Thank You For Your Service

File under: Learning How to Live

Due to the fact I live in the middle of nowhere, no internet service providers offer a reliable broadband service where I live. Therefore, you will often find me sitting in my car in a random parking lot, catching up on social media, whenever I travel into the city. Yesterday evening, I was sitting in the CVS Pharmacy parking lot, as I am wont to do. It was after dark, approaching closing time for most stores in the plaza. I was sitting some distance away from the store away from all the other cars. Having just finished an emotionally difficult telephone call, I began to draft an even more emotionally difficult text message. Peripherally, I notice a car pass in front of me turn and travel on around the lot. Being distracted, as I was, I did not notice this vehicle had circled back and pulled up on my rear.  Startled, I get a knock on the window and look up to find a county sheriff standing outside my door.

My immediate reaction was anger. All I could wonder is what yokel called the cops on me for sitting here, minding my business--not bothering anyone. I go on the defensive and a flood of legal knowledge and situational drills rush to the forefront of my brain. What seems to be the problem officer? Was there a complaint? Is there a reason you approached my vehicle? Do you have some reason to believe some sort of crime is occurring? Has the owner asked that I leave the premises?

Much to my consternation, the officer was not being confrontational, aggressive, authoritarian, demeaning or disrespectful in any way. This threw a wet blanket on my fiery libertarian zeal. It is much less vindicating to rage against the machine when the machine is not being a tool. I realized…this guy is just doing his job…we both just want to get through this and go home. I reminded myself that I do not have the right NOT to identify myself when operating a motor vehicle.  Being a jerk can only make things worse, so just shut up and go along with it.

With my hands on the steering wheel of the car, I informed the officer that I have no weapons in the cabin of the vehicle, but there is ammunition in the glove compartment and an unloaded firearm in the trunk. I ask if it is all right to turn the dome light on so that he can see into the vehicle. When he says it is ok, I do so…slowly. Now that he can see into the vehicle, I ask if it is ok that I retrieve my wallet from my left side front pocket. When he says it is ok, I do so…slowly.  While he is communicating with dispatch, I keep my hands on the steering wheel. He encourages me to “relax,” and states that it will not take long. My record is spotless, so I am not worried I will not be driving home soon. However, as I am sitting there, something I did not expect occurred: he struck up a conversation.

He remarks that I am very familiar with the regulations for carrying firearms and asks why I do not apply for a permit so that I can carry mine in the car with me. I remark that this situation would be much tenser if there was a firearm in here with me (the real reason is I am a notorious procrastinator). He quips, if I need it in an emergency I cannot ask the attacker to “hold on” while I retrieve it from the trunk and load it. We both laugh at that. We talk about our common interest, firearms, for a while: favorite carry options, EDC, favorite caliber, ranges to go to… Turns out we both favor the same round, for the same reason (although he is a Glock fanatic, sigh). He talked about the time while on vacation an officer stopped him after he fell asleep in his civilian vehicle in a hotel parking lot. We talked…lightly…about the subject of our tension: bad cops and bad interactions between them and the public. He professed that bad cops make his job harder and those like him want them gone. He admitted in a number of high profile cases that many of the shooters “got away with murder.” He states that is a pleasure to be able to talk with a member of the public about common interests and concerns, without animosity or distrust. I agreed and explained to him that my grandfather, a retired deputy sheriff, and father were both involved in law enforcement at one time, so I understood “both sides” of the issue.

He concluded the stop by shaking my hand and thanking me for the service of my father and grandfather. This heart-felt gesture touched me in a very profound way. For the first time in a long time, I felt a feeling of deep pride and connectedness to my father and grandfather. I let go of what was dogging me, and a sense of the peace and calm came over me. I finished writing the missive I was having difficulty writing and went home feeling unexpectedly inspired.

What I said about my father and grandfather was only mostly true and only in an esoteric sense. It was an olive branch—a peace offering—to build trust and extend empathy. The truth is I never knew my grandfather, as him and the family had estranged since before I was born. Further, I did not know much about his or my father’s experiences in law enforcement.  My father was not fond of talking talk about his former life, or overmuch about his father in more than a general way. Many of the stories from that time in his life seemed to take my father to a bad place; so, as I became wiser, I stopped asking about them.  I gathered that, ultimately, it was that life—law enforcement—that wedged into the cracks of my father and grandfather’s relationship.

I have only ever seen my grandfather in pictures. He was an imposing man with a genial smile, the spitting image of my father, save my grandfather’s rusty hair had not darkened with age the way my father’s hair had. I knew he did dote on his grandchildren. Much of what I knew about him when I was a child I learned from my eldest siblings and cousins; at one time, he was a constant fixture in their lives. I never heard my grandmother so much as speak his name in all the years she lived.

I did speak to him once, over the telephone. I was maybe eight or nine years old at the time. All these years later, I do not remember the sound of his voice, but I remember every word he spoke and how I felt, finally, to talk to my grandfather.  He introduced himself, “Grandpa Bane,” and asked me who I was. We spoke very briefly. He told me that he wanted to see me, gave me his number and told me to call him. Few times can I remember being as happy as I was that day. As I often did, I waited impatiently and excitedly for my father to get home from work; I liked to be the first person to greet him when he came through the door.  I wanted to tell him my grandfather wanted to see ME. Over the turbulent years, my father and I have had some tense, heated and emotional conversations. None, however, was as heart-rending and agonizing, for both of us, as when he had to tell me I would not be seeing my grandfather after all. I never did.  He passed away a short while later.

I thought about my grandfather for the first time in a long time on the drive home—whimsical things, not sad things.  Like, did he have a disarming demeanor and a strong handshake like the deputy? What would be his choice in firearm or caliber today? What would an old-timer like him think of mine? What would he have to say about the state of law enforcement today? Would he have wanted me to continue in my pursuit of a career in criminal justice? I thought about all the conversations we never had and, for the first time, thinking of them did not make me angry or bitter—it made me smile.

Now that I have forced upon you a boring story, a sad story and a sob story, what is your reward for all that? What is the lesson in all of this? One thing about law enforcement that my father did share with me was the importance of the beat cop. Officers in the community patrolling the streets, interacting with business owners and homeowners, being a visible deterrent to criminals are vital to strong, safe communities. A couple years ago in my hometown, my cousin—a bailiff himself—was waiting in the parent line to pick up his daughter from elementary school when a criminal shot him in the back during an attempted robbery. In the world we live, a criminal will shoot a father in front of his wife at his daughter’s elementary school over a cellular phone.  If not for the efforts of dedicated law enforcement officers—officers like the deputy, my father and my grandfather—I would not have felt comfortable sitting in my car, in that neighborhood without my firearm within reach. Police are not the enemy; evil people and the hatred in all of us is. Catharsis is hard to come by in the world in which we live, where not much ever makes sense and true closure is rare. I narrowly almost prevented myself from making peace with a demon that has plagued me all my life. Closed minds and closed hearts stubbornly clinging to principle and jaded perceptions prevent us as a society from embracing one another, healing our wounds and moving beyond the hurts of the past. If humankind is ever to reach its moment of catharsis, it has to click in each of us that we are all just people, people doing our jobs—if imperfectly—and we all want to get through this life to find our way home.

Diagnosing America's Cancer

File Under:  It Is In Our Hands

V22.2, how many of you know what that is?  Can you guess?

To many of my compatriots in the health industry, you will recognize what that is immediately.  That is the ICD-9 diagnostic code for "Pregnant state, incidental."  In laymen's terms that is: a normal pregnancy, without complications.  This is what a doctor would put in your medical chart or on an insurance claim to denote that the patient is pregnant.  Why is this important? It is important because:

You only diagnose diseases.

If you look at pregnancy as a disease, it makes an ironic sort of sense: everyone who has ever been diagnosed with pregnancy has died.  Making children the most lethal disease to ever afflict humankind.  That might bring a chuckle to some of you with children, but therein is the problem with abortion, women's health rights, and the debate surrounding the two.  In the modern world children are considered, and thus treated like, a disease.  Children are suffered not cherished; they are something to be avoided, medicated, or destroyed.  We have already, however grudgingly, conceded that everyone has a right to suitable healthcare.  How dare someone dictate to someone else what is appropriate healthcare, or more precisely what they should do about a disease that is infecting their own body?

Conservatives have latched onto the very valid point that unborn children are not diseases without human rights, and they are using it as a cudgel to bludgeon Liberals.  Liberals, with their ideology threatened, have hidden behind the shield of women's health rights and freedom of choice and are firing back.  What has essentially happened is that the issue of sanctioned murder has metastasized itself onto women's health like a cancer, rendering it inoperable because Liberals will not sacrifice the cancer to save the host.  In this stalemate millions of unborn children continue to die, healthcare reform suffers, women suffer, and the country suffers from divisive politics and a lack of leadership.

If you have a defective heart valve, a chemical imbalance, a stroke, underdeveloped lungs, a calcium deficiency, a traumatic head injury, amenorrhea, or any number of other illnesses, these are all valid illnesses with definable root causes inside the body and mind.  Everyone deserves access to technologies which alleviate the suffering from these diseases.  However, to address unborn children, ovarian cysts, amenorrhea, and erectile dysfunction with one policy, so as to say that they are one-in-the-same is morally, ethically, scientifically, and spiritually bankrupt.

Some 40% of pregnancies are unplanned, and of those perhaps 50% are unwanted.  According to scientists, humanity was unplanned, and judging form all the species that once existed but now do not or all the species, in all the galaxies that never existed at all -- one could say the Universe probably doesn't want us.  And yet, here we remain -- unaborted.  Without question both men and women deserve access to comprehensive healthcare for all their bodily systems.  That care does not have to be sacrificed in order for us to redress this Nation's position on medically unnecessary abortions.  To do so, all we must do is put down our cudgels and shields, and divorce the issue of women's health from the cancer of abortion.

"Waiting Between Worlds" by Zack Hemsey from The Way released 2011 on Zack Hemsey Publishing

Why Do Bad Things Happen To Good People?

File Under: It is Unknowable

Humankind has always sought explanations for the seemingly inexplicable.  Why do we grow old and die?  Why does the sun rise and set?  Why did the wolf or the bear decimate the flock? Why do we have good crop years and bad crop years? Why do ships get lost at sea? Why did the village get swallowed up by the ground?  And the quintessential, why do bad things happen to good people?  To answer those whys historic humankind came up with: faith, God and gods, spirits, karma, luck, and fate or destiny.  In time science answered a few whys, but perhaps the best answer rests somewhere in between, for imperfect creatures stuck within a system they can only observe from the inside out.  When seeking an explanation or where to rest blame, maybe it is not the prudent course to settle upon that which provides the most comfort and or the fewest unanswered questions, rather that which illuminates the most truth.  And here it is:

We live in a random, chaotic world controlled by imperfect people in which evil exists and misfortune can befall anyone at any time by mere happenstance exacerbated by the ignorance  incompetence, neglect, or malice of others.

Evil, the willful and sometimes joyful predilection to do what is detrimental to the  well-being of others, tips the odds heavily against everyone.  Why?  For two reasons.  First, Evil is virulent.  It spreads quickly, silently and its effects are both cumulative and exponential.  Secondly, Evil is insidious and has an intelligence of its own.  Evil, is a chameleon  a master of disguise.  It masterfully hides its agenda and true intentions, and you never see it coming.  Long after it has left, you might never have realized it was ever there.  Evil makes us focus on poltergeists and boogeymen -- things we will chase forever but never catch.  All the while its favored, true agents of destruction go undetected, unharmed free to repeat the cycle at a future time of its choosing because once the ghost disappears, we think we have exorcised it, we congratulate ourselves, and we stop searching for the cause of why bad things happen.

Evil has a root cause, and it is the only thing in the Universe that can be created and destroyed.  Evil is not a product of the existence of a Good force in the Universe, which must have an antithesis.  Evil is not a gift from a malevolent being outside of the physical realm of existence.  Evil was not loosed from a magical box thousands of years ago.  No, Evil is created in the minds of people and grown in their hearts.  It all begins with a thought, a tiny electro-chemical signal in your brain representing emotion, recognition, memory, or association.  Your mind gives birth to an idea and it comes alive, and like and living entity it seeks its own survival.  Therefore, it finds the one place in your being where it will be nurtured, protected, fed, and allowed to thrive and grow -- your heart.  The heart is the seat of human motivation, more powerful to human survival than the mere autonomic center of the brain where a stray thought can get filed away and forgotten.  In the heart, the most fleeting thought can become the strongest obsession nursed like an age-old un-healing wound.  That is where Evil finds the soil to plant its seed in powerful motivating forces like: fear, anger, hate, lust, and even love.

Evil cannot be sanctioned.  It cannot be bombed.  It cannot be arrested.  It cannot be imprisoned.  It cannot be executed.  It cannot be medicated.  It cannot be legislated against.  It cannot be banned.  It cannot be preached a sermon.  Destroy the host and Evil will be reborn in the mind of another.  Destroy a martyr and Evil will reincarnate in the souls of millions.  Evil can only be battled, and destroyed, where it is born and lives -- in the minds and hearts of humankind.  It is not enough to safeguard our own minds and hearts against the insidious machinations of Evil, we have to inculcate the same diligence into our children -- the most fertile soil of them all.  After our children, Evil seeks out the minds and hearts of the weak, elderly, infirm, and feeble; those whose minds are fractious and hearts ache.  We must be our brother's keeper, but not our brother's lord or jailer.  No, this is a solemn duty born of love, empathy, vigilance, and self-sacrifice knowing that at any moment the aforementioned happenstance could put the proverbial shoe on the other foot.  We cannot relegate them to hoosegows under the fog of psychotropics while society moves on without them, for just like a fungus Evil still grows in the darkness hidden away from the light.

It is time to stop chasing boogeymen.  We will never exorcise the true demon if we keep falling for its tricks.  Bad things happen because some person with an Evil idea made it happen.  Evil is not an inanimate thing, it is a living breathing, growing, and evolving entity.  That's why it has stayed ahead of humanity all these centuries.  Alcohol is not evil, drugs are not evil, capitalism is not evil, faith is not evil, firearms are not evil, anger is not evil, hate is not evil, sex is not evil -- what people think and do is Evil.  The only thing that will stop bad things from happening, is correcting the thinking of every man, woman, and child on this Earth and remaining vigilant against ever letting Evil take root in our hearts again.

"Dreamer" by Ozzy Osbourne from Down to Earth released 2001 on Sony

How Many Moments Do You Have Left?

File Under: Don't Waste Time

Sometimes when surfing the inter-webs in search of the next monumentally hilarious or shocking viral video, one can find his or herself suddenly lost down a very dark, precariously twisted path into the murkiest and most depraved reaches of the human mind and soul. There is always that one related video that crosses the line and reaffirms the existence of something horrific, of which you would have preferred to remain oblivious. Web page after page, video after video, blog after blog, your morbid curiosity or perhaps a mind blinded by dismay presses you onward - until finally you can stomach no more. You tell yourself, 'I'm done."  As you prepare to shutdown your web browser and shutout the world, you notice a title which catches your eye.  One more video, you click it and ...your soul is laid out before you. You want to weep, and perhaps you do.

Such was the case today when I stumbled across this simple, yet remarkable story. The story is not new, nevertheless it is still a poignant, powerful message about life and what matters the most. A dying, 24-year-old Brandy Jewett realized as her time was dwindling away that time is is the only commodity we have of any true value. While theories, hopes, and beliefs abound, none of us know with any sufficient degree of certainty whether or not we will receive more time elsewhere when we give up our physical bodies in this plane of existence. Thusly, a truly wise person is one who does not squander his or her time. However, rarely does one possess such wisdom at the young age of 24. For Brandy, the difference likely was the 14 precious, extra years living paralyzed from below the eyes down on borrowed time with her loved ones, after the accident that crippled her as a child, that bestowed upon her such humbling wisdom and appreciation. In the end, facing the finality of her short life when asked what she wanted, she responded that she wanted to meet and thank the dedicated individuals who gave her more time.

Perhaps it was the tragedy of Brandy's short life, the short lives of so many in the news today, or maybe my own current struggle with serious illness, but I had a hard time writing today's blog.  I want to dedicate this blog to those battling or who have already lost the fight with terminal illness, especially those whose illness is not one of the body. I dedicate this also to those taken away from this life far too early whether by illness, service to their country, or other tragic circumstances.  Finally, I would like to thank the firefighters, paramedics, and police who do their best to serve and protect, being there for us in our darkest hours and sometimes giving a lucky individual or family more time - even when doing so at their own peril.  Thank all these groups of people for your courage and for providing an example of the kind of humans we should all hope to be when our time runs out and we each must face our final hour.

Our own mortality and how we deal with that has been a struggle for humanity from the very beginning. Reasonably, such an important topic would be covered many times in our universal language - music. There were a few runners-up for the lead out video; you can see them and comment on today's blog at my Facebook Group Page.

Interview with The Bane

File Under: Useless Information

"Information is a commodity. It can be traded, sold, and purchased. And in the end, credits are only as useful as the secrets they can buy." - Darth Bane

This is just an "interview" for one of my friends college essays. Sadly, this will not star Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, or a young Kirsten Dunst. In fact, you might even find this unforgivably boring. I however, do not care; I did entirely too much introspection and typing not to share this so you will have to suffer through it. Besides, are you not the least bit curious about the author behind all these twisting tales of wonder and woe? No snickering. You will read it and like it, or may you be cursed with a virulent rash in a tender location. Therefore, without much further ado, I offer you a rare vista into the mind of Bane (that is I for anyone who has not been paying attention).

How old are you?

How old am I? Well a true gentlemen never tells his age. However, I will say I am precariously close to middle-aged and in grave danger of tipping over the edge, but which way I will topple I will not say. I will say that you are only as old as you feel, and I feel like I should be on Medicare and collecting retirement already.

Where are you from?

I am from the great city of Cleveland, Ohio. I do not have much to say about Cleveland. It is one of the reasons I am the paragon of human perfection I am today. As far as cities go, Cleveland is not the pinnacle of human creation and society. It could definitely be better however, it could be worse, it could be Detroit, or God forbid – Pittsburgh. Just kidding, I love all the other cities on the Great Lakes (or at least anyone from there who reads this).

How would you describe yourself?

I would not describe myself. That would be pretentious; instead, I let other people sing my praises. “Me” is one of my least favorite subjects. I prefer you, them, him, her, it, us, or we. I would not describe myself as one of those inane people overly obsessed with themselves and their small me-centric universes. Other people interest me a lot more than I interest myself. Nevertheless, I suppose that does not help this exercise so I will say that I am an incredibly curious individual. I like to question and analyze things. I consider myself very patient, logical, and well grounded, which allows me to get wonderful glimpses into some very amazing places.

How would you say your personality developed?

My personality is the product of much trial-and-error, a considerable amount of mentoring, and extensive analysis of more burned bridges than I can count. I think my environment was definitely crucial. Cleveland will make you hard, brittle, or firm. If you have good family, friends, and other icons, you will be the latter. Without positive influences to temper your development you will be so hard to be unusable as a human being or so easily broken that the smallest trials crush you without effort. The other important thing about Cleveland is that you have to leave it; you have to seek out new people and experiences to achieve meaningful growth and development.

Who are your role models? Why?

My most prolific role model is myself. At the end of the day I amaze myself so much at all the things I am able to accomplish, and the degree of excellence to which I accomplish them. Such magnificence makes me want to get up each day to see if I can outdo the previous day’s performance. Some days I do, most days I fail miserably, but even my failings have such brilliance, style, and savoir-faire that it is a beautiful, poetic thing to behold. I endeavor to be like my father and brother: honest, hardworking, loyal, and dignified. However, if I had to pick a historic figure that I admire deeply, it would be Abraham Lincoln. He was self-taught (and quite intelligent), successful, inspirational, and remained true to his principles while trying simultaneously to do what was right and beneficial. If when I die people would say, “Bane was a loyal, self-made, well-principled, and inspirational person,” then I would consider my life a success (so long as I inspired people to do good things).

What are some of your goals (short and long-term)?

My long-term goals are to live forever, find life on other planets, and find a second home for humanity. To me these are more important than our energy crisis, the war on terror, or our fragile socioeconomic condition. If I had to guess, I would imagine these questions have frustrated humanity since early in humanity's existence: Why do we die? Are we alone in the Universe? What else is out there? Moreover, without finding a second home the human race is doomed to eventually one day die out (or be wiped out), and it would be awesome to be involved in saving humanity. In the short-term, I would like to finish my JD in Criminal Justice and pursue a doctorate in Psychology. I would like to become a published editorial writer or some other journalistic commentator. I also want a vineyard and horse ranch in northern California, three German Shepherds, and a boat, which I will sail around the world.

Are there any political or economic issues that you feel have or may hinder your goals? Explain.

I think international temperature and an increase of piracy in certain regions might hamper my plans on world travel. In addition, financing a boat, a ranch, or a vineyard would also be a problem without a serious upgrade in financial status. Scientific research and progress does not seem to have the same prominence it once enjoyed, and political obstacles to things such as embryonic stem cell research and human cloning further frustrate quantitative and qualitative advancement. Corporations have placed a stranglehold on key technologies that should be maturing but remain theoretical. Moreover, vital human resources remain untapped and undeveloped because of political oppression (communist Asia) or societal neglect (sub-Saharan Africa).

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

The ultimate question. Ten years ago, I did not see myself here, and twenty years ago, I was again wrong about where I was going to be in ten years. So hopefully the third time is the charm, and the Universe is listening. Ten years from now, I will be a lawyer fighting against corruption, bureaucracy, and sociopolitical lethargy. I will be instrumental in substantively reforming our judicial and corrections system, and successfully combating cyber, corporate, and environmental crime. I will be preparing to publish my first book, while shopping for a good pair of Andalusian horses for my farm.

All right, for sitting through that you deserve a good lead-out video so…Have some.

Summary Execution: The Penalty for the Alleged Theft of Five Bags of Rice in Haiti.

File Under: Epic Failure of Humanity

If this were not Haiti, one could comment that now human rights violations begin, however, this is Haiti. Therefore, it would be more appropriate to say human rights violations resume, and of course, Westerners are on hand to record this young man’s last moments on Earth and the aftermath of human wreckage. Somehow, I get the distinct feeling that the investigation into this kid’s murder will receive the same diligence as the investigation into his alleged looting and the same attention as his dead corpse.

This news story makes one sad to be human on three accounts. First, for the fact this man had to die. Due process and police discretion would have been sufficient to save his life even had he decided to place it at risk by violating the law. However, it is unclear if he broke the law at all and if he did to what degree. Secondly, independent Haiti has been sitting in our shadow, a stone’s throw from our shores for near 100 years. That it takes a gross loss of life and tremendous suffering for Haiti to make the news is madness. Finally, that this young man did not receive the courtesy to die in quiet dignity but rather had to have his final moments recorded, broadcast to the world, and sensationalized. If journalists truly want to “help,” get witness statements, apply pressure to wounds, and rescue some people. When it is over, apply unrelenting pressure to the authorities. Do not video record a man bleeding to death and tell the world he is bleeding to death.

WARNING: For anyone following this link, the attendant video clip is graphic compared to anything you have ever likely seen on the 6 O’clock news.