The Mission

The man rose early. Today was the mission. John Baxter wore his tailored black suit and un-clipped the name badge with his picture from his belt, he wouldn’t need it today. He took the paper grocery bag full of the contents needed for the mission, rolled down the top and tucked it under his arm. He looked at the photo once more, a young man in  uniform staring back. He committed it to memory and slipped it into his breast pocket. John put on dark shades and headed for the door.

The bus was on time; he checked his watch to be sure. John searched for an open seat as the driver eased the machine into traffic. He had taken this ride many times before, always the same mission.  He opened the paper bag slowly and looked inside making sure the items were accounted for. John the fastidious planner never left anything to chance.  

The bus made its first scheduled stopped as a few slow moving patrons grabbed their backpacks and loudly descended. This was Washington D.C and the buses were full of tourists eager to get pictures at the memorials and museums. Most of the crowd appeared to John to be first timers in the city. A father in a Pittsburgh Pirates cap flipped through a brochure while rattling off the day’s itinerary to his kids. A mother in the seat across from John scolded a young boy who wouldn’t sit, preferring to run down the aisle. Nearly everyone had a canvas bag or a camera held close and chatted loudly while pointing out landmarks.

John sat expressionless. He thought about the families, most on vacation, enjoying time with each other. He remembered the last time he felt carefree and hopeful about the future. He quickly put it out of his mind and focused. The mission demanded preparedness and sobriety, determination and toughness. Others wouldn’t understand so he never talked about it. He looked out of place with his black suit and dark glasses amid a sea of shorts and sandals. The bag sat on his lap, the contents wrapped tightly inside with the top rolled shut.

   

His stop would be the third and the driver had just opened the doors at the second. Another round of sight seers disembarked and made their way toward the capitol. A pang of nervousness shot through John’s legs as he knew the next stop was where the mission would begin. He thought about his first one. The nervous tremors nearly ended the whole affair. It had gotten easier since but was never easy. Today was Memorial Day which explained all the extra people around. John preferred the anonymity of a midweek mission but today was special.  

John let out a long breath as the bus slowed and finally stopped. He grabbed his bag securely and stepped off, looking skyward as the bright sun warmed his face. The walk toward the rendezvous was the worst part. It took nearly 10 minutes to walk from the bus stop to the site, all the time walking past reminders of the country’s legacy etched into stone carvings.

He could feel the soft grass under his feet, the weakness in his knees becoming more apparent, his heart beat quickened. John stopped and turned; his hand shaking as he reached into the bag and removed the bouquet as he gingerly approached the head stone with unfortunate wording.

John Baxter Jr.

PFC

U.S. Army

1990-2010

Afghanistan

Iraq

He took a Kleenex from his pocket, the tears coming down in streams as he removed his glasses. He carefully laid the flowers in front the stone while digging for the small flag he would sink in the earth. He removed the photo from his jacket and leaned it gently against the cold granite. He thought about how insignificant the tokens were for such a special life. These moments were tough. What to say? After a few minutes John gained his composer and knelt down for an intimate talk with the one person he would give anything to see again. He felt less alone here than at home but the sadness of Arlington National Cemetery made it impossible to stay long. Others were there too visiting loved ones and paying respect, their own personal mission.

He stayed 30 minutes today, the guard change signaling the time. John picked up his empty bag ready to go and looked around the enormous cemetery, another successful mission. He thought it wonderfully ironic that both vacationers and families of the war dead came to Arlington for the same reasons. The monuments represent freedom and sacrifice in equal measure. Families of the fallen got the sacrifice while the rest got the freedom. He was encouraged by the ceremonies and parades, folded flags and speeches celebrating his son’s bravery. They couldn’t fill the emptiness or satisfy the need, but it helped when other’s asked about his son. John loved to share stories with anyone who cared, anyone interested. It helped to pass the time--until his next mission.

Memorial Day 2016.  

Starting and Finishing

A wise man once told me “It isn’t how you start, it’s how you finish.” This was stated matter-of-factly in a thick Cajun accent. He had a smile on his face and a wad of chew in his jaw as he walked briskly past me. He wasn’t all that wise actually, but his quip was timely. I was in the push up position at the time with my platoon sergeant glowering over me, hands on hips counting. I can’t remember the infraction specifically. I’d been busted for drinking underage, sleeping in and missing morning formation and treating basic Army life like a ‘joke.’ I wasn’t a screw up but it took me a while to adjust to the disciplined life and follow orders.

 The Cajun laid out a brilliant philosophy on life and probably didn’t realize it at the time. If ‘it isn’t how you start’ than I still had a chance to turn my Army career into something worthwhile. To make a late push like an underdog basketball team in the NCAA tournament after getting 3 fouls in the first 5 minutes. To seize the chance and do the thing I’d always dreamed of doing, going to college on the GI bill. My non-start in the Army wasn’t the end of the line. I could still get there.

I quit dreaming too early. I don’t mean the kind of dreaming that doesn’t come with purposeful steps. That’s Bernie Sanders fluff. Achievers start with goals, written down physically accessible goals that stare them in the face before they go to bed at night. This is why mirrors make great message holders for those markers most of us have in a drawer somewhere. I’ve only recently come upon this phenomenon; by writing down my goals I am reminded of interests and expertise within the soul. Writing makes it more glaring.

‘It isn’t how you start’ is the positive part of the phrase telling me, others have walked this road before and had the same doubts. It gets difficult to squeeze in the hopes and dreams amid financial hardships and relationship breakdowns. But somehow they did it. They managed. One of the country’s most brilliant physicists, Ben Carson, grew up poor in Detroit to a single mother who relied on food stamps and government assistance. He is the quintessential late starter.   

Anytime in life I’ve needed a course correction, that saying is always out there in the ether. It’s a gulp of fresh air when success seems out of reach. I quit my job a few years ago with the possibility of a better paying more rewarding position with another employer. It didn’t pan out. I went back to the job I left and (basically) got my old position, it was humiliating. When I thought about far I’d come with education, travel and real world experience the process of coming back to the job I left depressed me. It felt like failure. It wasn’t of course because events in life aren’t linear and spaced out neatly along an X axis. Sometimes it moves in slow motion until the job, the degree or the relationship ends—or rather finishes.

The thing that saved me, what turned it around in my Army career was recalling why I joined in the first place. I reminded myself of why I wanted to be a soldier in the first place. Where did my start go wrong? The reasons were varied but all involved maturing. After that I just needed discipline. I started taking the Army and my role in it seriously. I became a student of the manuals and a leader in physical fitness. I developed good habits for time management and clean appearance. We all need reminders of why we do even the most mundane of tasks. Excellent people finish well.

The ‘finish’ in each part of life will reward us for the diligence we give to the task. It’s refreshing to know that life is so meritocratic; it wants effort and excellence before you can move on. The lesson about starting slow and correcting stays with me in work and life. The best advice for me came in the form of a spectator who was amused by my predicament. He shot a line toward me that he probably heard himself a thousand times and never really considered. On another day I might have rolled my eyes and kept pushing. He got me on that day though.

Another lesson from the day is this. Don’t ignore people in life who have your best interest in mind. There is a good chance they were in your position once. Especially if the position involves push-ups. 

South China Sea mashup

I think this area of the world is set for a collision course soon. China continues to build fortifications on disputed territory in an effort to claim it for resources and defense. The US navy runs  patrols through the South China Sea continually to keep the area free for commerce and keep China on its heels. Taiwan just elected a new president who doesn't seem as cozy with the mainland as the Beijing friendly Ma Ying-jeou. The Philippines also elected a right wing strongman (probably) with an interest in fishing rights and commerce in the area. President Obama just lifted embargoes placed on Vietnam since the 1960's. The reason? So they can by weapons from the US.
Stay tuned.  

Give the Rancher a break!

A pet peeve of mine (one of many) is that of elevating wildlife and animal safety to that of fetish. I came across a snippet from USA Today about a rancher defending his cattle in Montana from a furry cute-as-a-teddy-bear wolverine. My description not theirs.

 The rancher shot and killed the beast. Turns out wolverines are vicious and...oh yeah...a protected species. Everything is protected nowadays except private property.

Too many 'conservationists' think wildlife exists to photograph and rope off on federal land.  Private property is suspicious to them, especially in the American West. Ranchers and farmers understand wild living better than city folks.

The rancher posted a picture of the dead wolverine (he shot) on his Facebook page. Wildlife photographer  Ray Rafiti who has taken pics of the creature in the past, re-posts images of this poor rancher holding up his prize.
Comments from followers of Rafiti's page prove the unrealistic understanding people have about the 'wild' and those who live in it.

"wasteful shameful act"
"Anger, that is all I have to say before I say something I'll regret."  
"So, so sad"
"Horrible!"
"Would someone please shoot this moron"
"Such a great loss"
link 

A good deal of the comments are nasty barbs about the rancher's lack of intelligence, lack of manliness and lack of culture. I realize this is a Facebook comment section and therefore a cesspool, but ignorance about how fellow Americans live is disconcerting. Is this rancher supposed to care that wolverines are endangered while it terrorizes his cattle?

There were a few supportive comments of the rancher buried under an avalanche of nastiness. One women described the damage that wolverines will do to a herd of cattle. This is like explaining compounding interest to toddlers. They won't understand or care. They see nature as a well-regulated federal park with hiking paths and restrictions on hunting, fishing and alcohol use. Oh, and that summer internship at Yellowstone where they got to feed the baby grizzly bear, that made them a 'nature' expert.

I enjoy the outdoors. The Grand Canyon is an incredible sight that anyone would enjoy; the sheer majesty of God's creation is on display in countless landscapes around the world, it demands respect. Let's also respect the rugged individuals who depend on farming and ranching to sustain their life. They make tough choices everyday and understand what real conservation is all about.

To those who imagine that every private concern needs a public response, MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS.

'Ted Cruz for President' a eulogy

Ted Cruz is ‘dad humor’ in a raunchy stand-up comedy age, vegetables instead of ice cream, homework instead of recess. The easy thing to say would be “Well this just wasn’t Ted’s year, maybe next time!” The country may never again resemble the ‘shining city upon the hill’ Reagan believed it to be. Conservatism isn’t dead just outnumbered. ‘Ted Cruz for President’ felt like a last gasp at salvaging first principles for a nation that didn’t ask for it. He was the wrong man for the time, but the right man to carry the flag.  

He suspended his campaign after getting buried in Indiana by the vulgarian from New York. He was a man out of his time as he struggled to connect with a Republican party increasingly comfortable with loose philosophical ideals. Ted was traditional in his approach to politics; he attended Harvard and Princeton, worked as a Solicitor General in Texas and won election to the Senate. He had a brilliant intellect for legal matters and a scholarly approach to Constitutional history and legacy.

His command of the issues was impressive and he never ran from an argument no matter how ignorant or shrill the opponent. He was decent and respectful of protesters at his rally when he didn’t need to be. I watched him let Code Pink radicals infiltrate his stump speech and scream nonsense about the war in Iraq, which hasn’t been a ‘hot’ topic in years. He tolerated them, took their arguments and crushed them with logic and facts.

Ted was born to debate.

He built up a base of support from his Senate seat by staging dramatic events that gathered the attention of the nation. He was a showman by nature and understood the importance of proving his commitment to conservative values. The filibuster he gave in 2013 to the Senate brought attention to a budget stuffed like a turkey with funding for Obamacare. It wasn’t technically a filibuster but the marathon 20 hour ‘talk-a-thon’ grabbed the attention of Americans fed up with the hated subsidy.

 Ted was born to talk.  

He was evangelical to his core, his dad a Baptist minister. Christianity reinforced the conservatism of Mr. Cruz, the two principles being inseparable to how he ran his campaign, his family and his office. He spoke passionately of faith and family values which made him a relic to much of the country, like a fur trader on a New York subway. His speeches (especially in Iowa) calling Christians to "Awaken the Body of Christ..." seemed kooky to those un-familiar with evangelical language.

Ted was born to preach.  

Large numbers of voters distrusted him. His slick demeanor and demonstrative speaking style reminded many of a televangelist in the Southern Baptist tradition. He worked hard to round off the jagged edges of his personality by appearing with his wife and kids whenever possible. After the loss on Tuesday, Indiana went for Trump; it became obvious to the Cruz camp that it wasn’t their year.

Morality and past success aren’t selling anymore as Cruz discovered, Romney found out last year. Responsibility and command of issues has never been ‘cool’ but usually carried the day. Americans could be counted on to vote for the right guy eventually, not this cycle however. Senator Cruz will carry the flag for conservatism and America’s role in the world from Washington in other ways than the oval office. He is too intelligent and ambitious to move home and start a law practice.

Ted was born to lead.   

   

Interview Ignorance is Biss

link

Yogi Berra supposedly said “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” I like to think he was describing difficult choices in life that leave one nothing but bad options. If both decisions result in poor outcomes, flip a coin. One could always play dumb and take the easy way out. I opted for this one recently.

I had an interview for a teaching job a few years ago. It was an ESL (English as a Second Language) job teaching Spanish speaking immigrants through the YWCA. Actually the YWCA just ran the program through a Hispanic affiliate. I didn’t really expect to get the job based on the way the interview went. The ladies asked me about socially conscience issues like “How does racism hold people back?” and “What are institutional causes of oppression among minorities?” I’m piecing together the questions from memory. From my best recollection they were some version of that--heavy on institutional blame light on personal responsibility.

The YWCA has a women’s empowerment agenda and depending on one’s definition, this can be problematic. Like most agendas the Left drives, empowerment usually includes abortion rights, some form of employment quotas and an obligatory campaign to ‘stop hate’ or ‘end racism’. The looser the definitions the easier it is to cram public spending proposals through federal budgets. Who wants to vote for 'hate' anyway? I won’t give an exhaustive list of my beliefs here but I prefer a Christian based approach to charity and education. The YWCA (Young Women’s Christian Association) despite the religious name operates more like a progressive institution. I was a poor choice and recognized it right away.

 I played dumb. To the racism question I answered “Racism is bad and I will not tolerate it in the classroom”. To the institutional oppression question I answered that I would treat everyone the same regardless of their ability to learn. Both answers were so far off the mark they were borderline insulting. They wanted to hear ‘dog-whistles’ proving my devotion to the cause of ‘social justice’ and a blame America posture that ignores individual worth. In short they wanted me to prove that I had attended college.

 I couldn’t fault them for insisting on an ideologically pure teacher with a particular social bent. I wouldn’t expect a church interviewing a pastor not to ask relevant questions about his/her understanding of Christianity. For instance, does he/she believe in the death and resurrection of Christ and does it guide their choices in life? Teaching English to Mexican immigrants shouldn’t require the same litmus test as religious doctrine, sadly it does.

Had I used phrases like ‘social inequality’ or talked about the ‘marginalized classes’ the outcome would have been different. At some point during the interview and I had decided this job wasn’t for me and sabotaged the process by being evasive. I wasn’t disrespectful or nasty and they permitted my rambling with smiles. They were very sweet and even treated me like a toddler describing his first day at school, lots of “Really…then what?”

Was I wrong to be so misleading? I struggled with that question the minute I left the interview, still do. I never lied but I did deceive.  I took serious liberties with the questions despite their open ended nature. I couldn’t agree with the soft Marxist view on class and privilege. The other option was to stand on the table and recite opposing literature with the fervor of a street preacher. I can imagine holding up a copy of Atlas Shrugged in dramatic fashion, quoting something from John Galt’s exhaustive speech, pointing a finger at the horrified interviewer.

I took the fork in the road and like Yogi Berra played ignorant. I am a little wiser now about inner city non-profits and the views they hold on economics, class and race. Understanding ‘First Principles’ requires knowing which jobs to interview for and which ones to pass on. I’ll take my chances working with churches on inner city outreach; I understand their philosophy much better.