Paris hotel...Cluny Square...Latin Quarters

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Trellis south garden

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Who nose?

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Two roses

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In the corner by the shed

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Magnolias in Bloom

They look good this year.

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All Boy

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Princess Alexsandra

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Thompson Library - OSU

Pencil Drawing New Years Day 2009
"Grand Reading Room"

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Neglected Vices

(This was rejected by the corporate blog, therefore I decided to hide it here.)

I’ve always espoused the axiom of not neglecting your vices, which for me is more a tactic of pragmatism rather than a dictate of principle. To announce that embracing our vices is better than adherence to standard rules or beliefs may send some into wholesale defense of morality, religion, or politics, so let’s define terms that clarity can be preserved. In my world view a principle is an important underlying law or assumption required in a system of thought. We are Republicans, Democrats, Baptists, Episcopalians, liberals, or conservatives based on the opinions and attitudes we have discovered, processed, and adopted as central to the way we think. On the other hand a vice, for most of us, is a mild failing or flaw in behavior or character rather than the “immoral wicked depravity” of media fodder. For most, the journey of life is a process of identifying vices and if not changing than at least managing them.

My thinking here is that by neglecting vices the tendency will be to focus solely on your virtues. Exclusive focus on anything inevitably produces a tunneled myopic viewpoint that distorts reality and in itself becomes distorted to the point of becoming, in reality, a vice. The definition of principle; i.e. adherence to standard rules or beliefs, is not the primary issue it is the method of discovery, processing, and adoption that becomes the route to distortion. First, most discovery has become external rather than internal. Because of the basic lethargy of the species it seems easier to accept what we are told rather than to find out things by ourselves. Second, taking what we have discovered and comparing it against some normal cultural or personally adopted positions seems to be difficult for most of us and, though a basic element of our physiological makeup, is overtaken by apathy. This leads to further distortion of the first point which is that if we have been told rather than discovered our standard for processing is not ours but someone else’s. Third, lack of decrement in discovery and negligence in processing facilitates adoption of ideas and positions that are embraced rather than erased. If everybody in my groups thinks the same something is askew.

May I submit a couple of examples. Any group, club, synagogue, church, mosque, political party, or government that defines who they are, or we are, as one intractable set of ideals, ideas, or ascribable lists may be too focused on their virtues. An organization that is biased, exclusionary, or abusive to individuals that do not look, talk, or think like they do may be too focused on their virtues. If a group will not include or support points of view that are different than the ones they have come up with may be too focused on their virtues.

The New York Times had an article by Jim Rutenberg and Adam Nagourney, Conservatives Make a List to Measure Candidates’ Commitment, in which they reported on a proposed resolution dictating that Republican candidates’ adherence to a basic 10 item list of conservative principles. Not subscribing would result in the withholding of campaign money and endorsements. As a Republican I think these folks may be too focused on their virtues.

Radicalization” and the possible penetration of “violent extremist ideology” are potential threat to national security and have become of great concern to many in the country, including Muslim leaders and national Muslim organizations. Radicalization often results from the marginalization and a deepening sense of exclusion and unfair treatment by establish social groups and government agencies. And the extremist ideology responsible for violent outbursts is often rooted in the systematic demonization of marginalized groups. Rather than being seen as an asset and an important force to prevent radicalization, national Muslim organizations have, since 9/11, come under relentless attacks by far right individuals and groups whose aim have been to delegitimize the authentic voices of the American Muslim community.[1] As a Jew I think these folks may be too focused on their virtues.

Providence, Rhode Island bishop has forbidden a U.S. Congressman to receive the Roman Catholic sacrament of Holy Communion because of his advocacy of abortion rights. The penalty was explained by telling him he was “not a good practicing Catholic because of the positions that I’ve taken as a public official.”[2] As someone who not very good at practicing anything, I think these folks may be too focused on their virtues.

Exclusive focus on anything inevitably produces a tunneled myopic viewpoint that distorts reality and in itself becomes distorted to the point of becoming a vice. The only way we grow as individuals, a culture, a nation, a world is by recognizing how we can live together. Only by identifying and confronting our vices will we ever be virtuous. We’ve got to pay more attention to vices so our virtues don’t take over.

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[1] Safi, Louay, Engaging Muslim Americans in crucial to prevent radicalization and promote national security, Indianapolis Political Buzz Examiner, November 24, 2009

[2] Mulligan, John, Kennedy: Barred from Communion, The Providence Journal, November 23, 2009

Into Life's future...

Thank you to Henri Goulet for these sentiments;

I Take Thy Promise

Words by Elsie Deck

I take Thy promise, Lord, in all its length

And breadth and fullness, as my daily strength;

Into life's future fearless I may gaze,

For, Savior, Thou are with me all the days.

Days may be coming fraught with loss and change,

New scenes surround my life and fancies strange,

I thank Thee that no day can ever break,

Savior when Thou wilt leave me or forsake.

There may be days of darkness and distress,

When sin has power to tempt, and care to press,

Yet in the darkest day I will not fear,

For, 'mid the shadows, Thou wilt still be near.

Days there may be of joy and deep delight,

When earth seems fairest, and her skies most bright,

Then draw me closer to Thee lest I rest,

Elsewhere, my Savior, than upon Thy breast.

And all the other days that make my life,

Marked by no special joy or grief or strife,

Days filled with quiet duties, trivial care,

Burdens too small for other hearts to share.

Spend Thou these days with me, all shall be Thine,

So shall the darkest hour with glory shine,

Then when these earthly years have passed away,

Let me be with Thee in the perfect day.

Where is your head?

Ever have a day where you just couldn't seem to get your head out of your work? There's a statue that stands outside the Ernest & Young building in LA that pretty much sums it up. Some days are better than others.

The Proper Thing to Do

I like to dress up. It’s very seldom that I don’t wear a coat and tie, which I believe is a piece of my past that continually pokes it head through my frame of reference. My maternal grandfather was English and a proper bloke. He came to the States at seventeen years old and never returned to Britain. He did, however keep a lot of England with him over the next six decades. To my knowledge he never came to the dinner table without his dinner jacket and tie. I remember asking him why after a long, dirty, tiring day farming why he would still change into his jacket before dinner. His answer was simple; “It is the proper thing to do.” And there you have it, some things are just the way they should be and others need help.

Want to hear more? Follow the Title link.

Getting a haircut

I got a haircut last night. It has been some time since a haircut was a notable event for me. At one point in my maturing process it lost its qualification as an event and became a brief encounter resulting from a lack of content. My barber has lived with me for more than 40 years and in her spare time raised a family and kept me from wandering away. The brief encounter took place in my garage and was highlighted by only three brief words, “there you go.” Before I had a personal barber I would go to the “barber shop”, which has had some dramatic nomenclature revisions over the years, where I would listen to the pulse of the American republic. Conversation on local gossip, the day’s news stories, politics, always politics, were more the attraction of place than actually getting a haircut. Many a fervent, at times heated, discussions were held with one side under the sheet and the other with a pair of scissors in hand. And at the end of the “hairied” discussion the scissors were put away, the sheet was removed, you paid the bill, shook hands and parted friends. The process was an essential typology of the democratic process it was relevant and it was civil.

I’m not quite sure what has happen to either haircuts or civil discussion but I suspect we’ve moved from the barber shop to the garage. Referring to current character of political discussion Robert Bennett, former head of the Ohio Republican Party, in comments to the Ohio GOP Central and Executive Committee said, “We have to bring civility to the process; it's too important." That statement was intriguing enough for me to do some further investigation. I read the comments on the Bennett Columbus Dispatch article in the Sunday (Sept. 13) paper “Talking heads' lack of civility hurting GOP, ex-leader says”, by Mark Niquette. Frankly, I was surprised at the number of comments that spoke against the simple principal that civility has a value in politics as well as public life. Such phrases as “not a leader, muddying the message, conservatives (are) laying down…(in the face of) the evil Obama” I accept as examples of the exercise of free speech, the lack of content and the inherent lack of civility did nothing but strengthen Bennett’s position. But some cases free speech is used as an excuse to be abusive.

In Andrew Miller’s WOSU article “Sticker Shock Displays Lack of Civility” he recounts two episodes where passersby made abusive comments to him and his family concerning the Obama bumper sticker on his car. Miller says, “What I believe is lost on these people is that threatening someone's opportunity at life and liberty is not an act of free speech but an unprovoked attack. I'm not sure what happened to civility in our country but I beg our nation's leaders to help bring it back. Unfortunately, many of those leaders are the very people stoking these fires of division and disrespect.”

So what does all this mean to us? For twenty-two years Finance Fund has been an advocate for low-income people with an inherent disposition to have less access, less opportunity, and less tolerance from economies, politics, and moralists. It has not been benevolence or rampant altruism that has motivated us. It is the basic principal of civility. It has been basic respect for another human being and an attitude that respects ideas, situations, and dignity of another person. This is what is lost when civility exits. The lack of this basic social construct makes it much easier to categories people into “them” and “us” and it becomes much easier to demonize one and isolate the other. It becomes easy to deny access to housing because “they” are not responsible enough. Job opportunity for “them” should not be a priority because “they” will spend the money on drugs and drink. There are plenty of empty schools around why do we have to provide space to care for “their” children. “They” are too irresponsible to get a job anyway.

See, it’s easy. All that is necessary is to move from the barber shop into the garage. We can still get the haircut but without all that nasty responsibility to be civil.

Sukkot

Together we remember our wandering in our own wilderness and G-d's
ability to find us where we're at.


JR Klein

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The Day the World Changed (9.29.2001)

The morning had begun with an explosion of color. One of those sunrises that pierces the darkness and changes it to a stellar brilliance. I’d started early, before dawn’s transformation, and was well into my daybreak ritual of thought. The reviewing and previewing of agendas, goals, tasks and tactics filled the commute and accompanied me to my desk. It was Amanda who came to re-focus my attention. “Have you heard the news?” And with that, the world changed.

It’s interesting how in a second, a twinkling of the eye, everything can become different. It was the same feeling I had over twenty years ago in a hospital room in a small inconsequential town on the Great Plains. As my family stood saying goodbye to my father, the air was not charged with emotion nor was the day much different than any other day, but in a second the world changed. I was no longer just his son. I was now the father. All those decisions that were always deferred to him were now directed to me. That day, even though well established and independent for some time, a turning point had been approached, embraced and passed in a flicker of time. The world changed.

It is my wish that America never recovers from the events of September 11, 2001. The terror will subside, the fear will seem distant again, and the grief will dull, but hopefully the unity and resolve of the American people will forever change, how we look at the world and ourselves. It is my belief that how this generation views freedom, its benefits and its cost, will never be the same as they were when morning broke that Tuesday. May we never recover from remembering the importance of knowing our neighbors and taking time to enjoy the sunrise and those who share it with us.

Manditory Stop

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The Old Mill near Utica, OH; home of this historic water wheel and the
Velvet Ice Cream factory. Really, we stopped to see the histoy but the
ice cream was sure good.

Weekend with my baby.

Lola began a new decade this week and to honor the occasion we spent a
couple of days in Holmes County. It was a good time away together, no
phone, no computer, limited connectivity. I think she enjoyed it. I did.

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Celebrating 20 years

photo: Suzette Grant

My annual fashion statement. This is the attire worn at the Wing Spread banquet, Racine, Wisconsin sometimes in 1987 or 88. My plan was to make a statement about the strategy offered at the conference concerning rural economic development. It turns out my statement wasn't remembered but my outfit was. In 1989 while the Ohio Community Development Finance Fund was looking for its first Director two of the board members reported sitting next to an obviously demented individual that might be interested in moving east. I started work for what now is Finance Fund on September 1, 1989 and the rest is history. I wear the outfit each year to remember G-d's sense of humor.

Book stack

Almost a work of art.

Grand Entrance

The Grand Staircase is certainly impressive at the Niel Avenue enterance.

Thompson Library

The Horse Shoe from 11th floor that has been unaccessable for at least a decade. Now it is a showcase.

Opening of remodeled Thompson Library-OSU

OSU Oval from 11th floor.

Garden Tour & Garden Party

Saturday's Garden Tour turned out to be an event. The expected 30-35 guests ended up being over a 100 with conversation, lemonade, and flowers in abundance.

Following the end of the tour (4:30) we regrouped for the staff Garden Party at 6:00. It was a fun time filled with foliage, fairy stories for the kids, and food, food, food.

The redesign of the space worked well. The addition to the deck tying the "tree" deck to the "cantilever" deck was the key. Thanks to Amad and all his ideas, hard work, and workmanship.

We'll be doing more entertaining here.

Braden James Klein

Upon the flurried tide with cogent eyes transfixed in wonder I see him move, not with grace but with style. Not as shore grass graciously sweeps to the sea but more like a sea lion with the drive of intent toward the prey he moves from one place to the next. Then stopping to raise his hands as if to say “I am the Walrus”, he looks for approval and beams at its recognition. In that tide he strikes the match igniting my heart. He is my grandson, my hero, my love’s intent unrestrained.

She joined me here

Lola spent the weekend in DC with me. My meeting schedule did not
allow me to spend time with her at home. She is the "nursling of my
immortality" and my dearest love.

Working on the Garden

Notice that Garden is capitalized. It was a day full of gardening.
First, a morning at BMC planting and pruning, than home to finish
power washing the decks, and finally building the fountian in the
Homestead Garden. The old pump was in Lola's kitchen on the South
Dakota farm. It's about 150 years old and has again found an adaptive
reuse. Good hard work today relishing G-d's gift of life. Life is full
of the little nooks and crannys that contain it's essence.

Happy vs Good

“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” (Untited States Constitution) - I’ve always taken these words to be a noble and poignant sentiment espousing the lofty ideals of freedom until a recent talk by Tony Campolo (Emeritus of Sociology at Eastern University) at The Gathering in Columbus, OH. His hypothesis was that being happy and the pursuit of happiness was not a goal but a state achieved as a result of obtaining another goal. He contends that goal is goodness. It struck me, at its hearing, that achievement of a state of being good; i.e. personal virtue, kindness, honesty, integrity was possibly the primary direction lost in the pursuit of happiness.

Maybe it’s because being happy is much harder to define in a precise way. It is an elusive goal in that it constantly changes. I’m happy with my car until the new models come out. I’m happy with my wardrobe until the fashion changes. I’m happy with my church until I get offended by what someone says or doesn’t say and I feel uncomfortable because of conviction or lack of it. I’m happy in my marriage until I feel undervalued or over used or unappreciated than I leave. I’m not happy because I feel I’m not getting my fair share or my neighbor is getting more than his. I don’t want to be happy because I don’t get any attention and I’m only happy when I get attention. So to be happy what I must do is anything that will make me happy. Whether unkind, selfish, dishonest, illegal, or depraved it is okay because in order to be happy and to achieve my goal I must do whatever it takes.

So here we are, all of us with noble intention only trying to be the best little people we can while moving slowly, generation after generation, moving away from the real goal of goodness. The farther we move away from the mountain the more it looks like a hill. Even the definition of good has changed to something that fits our pursuit of happiness. We now readily accept the fact that lying is okay if the truth will make someone unhappy. It’s acceptable to over spend in a world of poverty because of the pleasure of immediate consumption. In recent history we have seen cheating, fraud, terrorism, and ruthless cruelty done by humankind in the name of goodness that has morphed into nothing more the hidden search for happiness. The reward of happiness without goodness is empty despair.

Make no mistake, I am not outside of the indictments I present nor are any of us. My hope is that we can move to a more introspective perspective and choose lifestyles that move us away from blind happiness to the real happiness of being good. It is my belief that G-d wants us to be good not happy and as we pursue goodness we learn the secret. You can be happy if you seek goodness no matter how miserable you think you are.

Politics

I believe politics is like inadvertent cleavage...
you know its there but you really try not to look directly at it...
because you know if you do you'll either be...
embarrassed or become a life long fan...
either way you never get it out of your head.

Home Again

It always happens but it not always as subtle. The return from Italy quite naturally provides an opportunity to reflect on where we've been and what the experience was like in relation to where we are and where we're going. It was an enjoyable time in another world that almost seems unreal. In a strange way it's like I'm still there and I was never there. The weeks since the return have been filled with Passover and Easter and re-insertion back into the stream of "everyday" life with little time for reflection. So the processing is coming slower. The pictures are up on Flickr so the remembering of names, descriptions, and places will almost be like getting out from behind the camera and taking the vacation again.

Last ice cream

This is the last gelato shop before heading home.

Government Building

The outside of the Florence municipal building is a little different than what we see in the states. Original sculpture (rape of the savens) on the right and the slaying of Medusas on the left. Michaelangelo's David used to stand in this piazza but is now in a museum.

Pisa

The obligitory tourist shot.

Traveling to Como

Headed to the Alps

Leaving Venice

We say goodbye to Venice and head to Como at the base of the Alps.

Ah Venice! This is arguably the most romantic place on earth or at least it is today. Piazza St. Marco takes the world away and replaces it with pensieri d'amore (thoughts of love).

On to Venice

Traveling through Emillio Romano on our way to Venice. Out of the mountians into the farm land.

Capri Coffee Shop

Sitting in a wonderful little shop overlooking Capri harbor and Sorrento in the distance.

Sorrento

We're waiting for a boat to Capri. Enjoying the benefits of the off season (small crowd, small group, small temperature)

Vatican - St. Peters

St. Peters this morning. The Renaissance/ Baroque art is breath taking.

First Walk

First walk, good first taste of the city.

Train station

Turns out the train station is close to the hotel and after check in
and a little nap we walked to Stazione Termini. Found a little place
to change some money bought some pringles than home again for a 5:00pm
meeting with everyone. 26 people on the tour from various parts of
world; I.e. South Africa, australia, Canada, Mexico, and the states.

Arrivederci

I can remember when my parents had their 40th wedding anniversary. We had a little family thing where all the relatives got together and talked and ate and did what families do. Mom and Dad sat in two chairs at the end of the room and relatives reminisced about times they'd been together. To think that they had been married for what seemed like an eternity was an amazement almost unparalleled. But now when I look up the same two chairs are filled by Lola and Jim. Such an experience in time travel just by saying "I do" life has shot forward like the old reel to reel tape recorder on fast forward with jumbled words flying by almost recognizable but not quite. And so here we are after 40 years together still celebrating the "I do" of commitment not perfectly but good enough.

We're off to Italy! Arrivederci We'll post pictures here.

Digital Dismay

I am witnessing the death of broadcast television. It's not that I'm an avid watcher but it is an available form of entertainment and diversion is welcoming from time to time. Long ago tv was a credible form of journalism simply reporting the news and not making it. We have moved far beyond the antiquated ideology in this century of enlightenment. But now the final insult. It has been decided in some upper floor executive suite that in order to make our access to advertisements briefly interrupted by programming more fulfilling we need to have digital high definition television. Just imagine picture clear interpretation as if you were really there. No more snowy fuzzy car commercials telling us that tens of thousands of dollars is a reasonable price for a vehicle designed to last seven years. But now the world will change and it will be like standing there almost touching the product. So as a dutiful consumer I made the switch, the box, the tv, the antenna the whole works I got 'em. Instead of moving forward to a glorious utopian high definition heaven I've shuffled backward to a per kaleidoscope universe like some arthritic thumb flipping through the pages of a picture book. If this is progress I think it's gone on long enough. I'm going to read a book.

Emergency

Time was short and we were never in this much of a hurry. There didn’t seem to be any explanation why the bustle had begun but as my father got me in the car the sense of urgency was unmistakable. Mother and he had been conversing in muted tones with a noted escalation of anxiety. I’d been watching from the yard at the plume of dust created by his car floated over the field as he sped down the tall hill that led to the driveway. It was a strange time to see him coming home in the middle of the day from farm work that never ended until twilight had waned. His weather worn face was steeled toward some unknown foe with a discomforting tension unfamiliar to him. And again, as the wind took the dust billowing behind us it was mother that turned in the car to announce that there’s an emergency. Explaining that after a long and tumultuous battle with life he had succumb. Turning back there were words like “shame”, “bound to happen”, “saw it coming”, “wouldn’t listen”, which made little sense to me. If he knew what was happening why was it an emergency?

It dawned on me that some emergencies are accidents. The result of some unseen and unexpected circumstance that results in a surprise for which there is no fore-thought solution. Some emergencies are, as the word infers, emergent in nature. This adolescent memory and cognizant perplexity still carry some truth through the waning decades. The world is in a state of emergency. Every day the economic plume of dust appears to surround us and, if allowed, choke us to the point of death. These are frightening times yet they are not the emergency of surprise. This plume of dust has been watched speeding down the tall hill that leads to the driveway. It has been identified for nearly a decade and the tools to keep it from turning up the drive available but, alas laid unused in the tool box. Economists, educators, advocates, and even some bankers and politicians have been pointing to the questionable use of privilege and the lack of accountable oversight allowing some to gain advantage from dubious and short sighted practices. The emergence of the current circumstance is a surprise to some but certainly not an unforeseen state. This dust has been floating over the field for years.

Now that the dust behind us is taken by the wind, we’ve all turned to each other in recognition of this most un-natural state. Tendency is always to examine the dust and quantify the “shame”, “bound to happen”, “saw it coming”, “wouldn’t listen” categories that, though they make good television, don’t help move beyond the extended first finger. Call it moral fiber or stiff upper lip or face to the wind this is the time to remember who we are. “Them/They” needs to disappear and “I/we” needs to re-appear. No matter what views are held this is a historic time in the history of a nation and the world. It is a tremendous opportunity to apply the diligence needed to emerge into a better, stronger, more unified world. As the world watches, America, that’s all of us, has to purpose to take the opportunity to sit up straight, eat our vegetables and do what needs to be done.

BMC leadership

Leadership meeting today. Here is a group of dedicated people with so
much to do. It is amazing how faith works its way through our lives.
Though not the primary focus of most around the table still the center
of their lives. Great example of chesed ( loving kindness).

Snowing Here

Heading to Zanesville and slowed down by 8 car pile up. Nice snow
crazy people.

Get a grip

Its stuck in my head and I can't get it out. The logical result of the existence of a frame of reference is the idea that whatever we see immediately is framed by what we've seen. This morning I listened to a podcast on design where the commentator was talking about the gestalt concept in design. He used the term "convenient cognitive handle". What an intriguing concept and one that relates so dramatically to the "we of me" concept. We all have inside our frame of reference, little handles that protrude from every angle and every thing we hear, see, or experience forces us back to grab one of those convenient cognitive handles. Those handles define everything; relationships, attitudes, spirituality, our very definition of life is based on how we approach it in our heads.

Sometimes I Lose my Faith

I am human and from time to time I lose my faith. It’s not that it is planned or even foreseen but rather as startling as coming to faith was in the first place. Having traveled on the road of faith for more then just a short time, the expectation might be that strength or conviction or some other self generated attributes would hold my foot steady against “wickeds” and wilds and not so wilds of the present age. It has always been my intent to stay strong in faith, to run the good race, to stay the course, but alas in the midst of my goodness there always seems to lie the seeds of discontent that moves me to another path.

Is it the lack of knowledge that causes the loss? Or maybe some shortfall in teaching or instruction that precipitates the sideways glance or turn of head? Is it some weakness in doctrine or indoctrination that becomes the origin of apostasy? Clearly, intent is not the fervent glue that I might think for it appears that the road to hell is paved with its derivatives. Possibly, it’s the fault of those with whom this dance of life is shared. Their imperfections and flaws surely have seduced me into passageways where darkness seems to overpower light. Reason dictates there is no place within my heart that would, with such recklessness, abandon that which intent and command have set as such a noble prize. Yet, when heart and hand and mind do fail to keep the frailty of humanity at bay, and with little regard for life or death, I plunge face first into the indulgence of self, the truthful sting of faith is felt. Without a thought of return or origin the embrace of faith is forsaken in willing welcome embrace of self.

The One in whom faith commences and eternally resides does convict with gentle means, though not so often thus perceived. A message not concealed but seldom heard and understood is proclaimed again my heart. There is nothing I can do but set myself toward the task of keeping faith with Him who is author and finisher. Aware of the frailties of this humanity by experience taught, His mercy makes compassion move beyond perception’s reasonable ends. Loss of faith is not loss of the faithful One. Condemnation is not the inevitable tide of actions wrought with selfishness, but the fact that simply and persistently He waits again to be found.

Looking back to Look Ahead

I've been doing some thinking about the cognitive concept of a frame of reference. The idea that we are all made up of the people we have known, the places we have been, and the experiences we have had. In the thinking process, it occurs to me that I've been thinking about this for a long time. In 1977 I wrote a poem, more of a poet slips then a poet's lips, about it, "The We of Me", which explores the interesting idea that who we are is where we've been. The sentiment was admittedly narrow in 1977 and I suspect was tainted by some infatuation or another.

Every Little Girl

Every little girl should see the Nutcracker ballet. The dreamy imagery combined with the grace of dance and the music....the music. Tonight Lola was a little girl fitting right in to the pinafores and party dresses poised at the Ohio Theater to see Columbus Ballet's version of the Nutcracker. It was a little girl's dream and my little wife in her first Nutcracker was as delighted as a school girl.

Weisberger's Aniversary.

BMC friends Paul & Ellen Weisberger, celebrating their 18th
anniversary at Longhorn. Good friends, good fellowship, acceptable
food. Love endures.

Sertoma

Yesterday's Sertoma meeting awarded $2,000 to the Childhood League.
Accepting the award is Barb Acton, Executive Director. Sertoma (Service to Mankind) is a service organization providing funding support to charitable groups.

Go West Young Man...

"One thing you can say about life is that it's constant". (Woody Allan) The constancy of life has the tendency to also be consuming. Please understand that being consumed by life is a strategy embraced by many, myself included. However, being consumed by it and having life consume you are two different concepts. I confess that while I subscribe to one I am the victim of the other. Life’s consumptive appetite is for time. It steals minute, than hours, than vast periods of time that seem to vanish without a trace. It was just yesterday that Lola & I shared the hospitality of Wayne and Merry Shervey in their Hopkins, MN home. We all had the connection of childhood which seems closer then history will admit and had a uniqueness of relationship being relatives and also friends. Great memories of fun and friendliness seem fresh but life, in its chariot of time, is hidden by memory which secretly compresses the distance between two points in time. What seems fresh is placed by history twenty years in the past.

The chariot can move pretty fast and provide little scenery unless you keep your eyes open for the scenic overlooks life has to offer. The moments, which almost seem to be outside of time, give a different perspective of where we’ve been and where we’re going. Imagine our delight to experience one of the scenic overlooks of life on a trip to visit the Shervey’s near Portland in their Canby Oregon home. Because memory folds time there was the perception of a mere skip in time like the bounce of a stylus and we were again connected. The hospitality and warm blending of soul and spirit enable us to be consumed by life and not worry so much about being consumed by it. When you lift your head above the blur of the journey you can see all the mountain tops.

Today I fell in love

Today I fell in love. It’s not something that is unusual for me. I tend to fall in love several times a day but this was different. As William Wadsworth said in his poem, “She was a phantom of delight when first she gleamed upon my sight,” this was a defining moment. Though I’d seen her many times before today this was the day I really saw her for the first time. What style, grace, what a personality, what a smile. She could make a train take a gravel road.

I’d known her all her life and had always liked her. I saw her first when she was only minutes old and even than she was unforgettable. The first grandchild is always special, so I’m told, and she is. Enthralled, delighted, ecstatic framed my relationship. I am the father of the father so I tend to stand at the back of the baby line but that’s ok. The time that I’m with her has always been special.

Alexsandra Elizabeth Klein is formidable nomenclature for such a tiny imp. Though formal in structure the name fits this little princess. It seems my cognitive process had gotten somewhat out of hand and our relationship, for me, had gotten somewhat analytical. But, today my head went round and my heart stopped. Today it was like I saw her for the first time and I fell head over heels in love. This young lady is my destiny, she is our destiny. In her, as in all grandchildren, are bundled the hopes and dream of a generation that has begun to entrust the world to our children and come face to face with the results of that disposition…grandchildren. Today I fell in love.

The 100% Solution

It will soon be 30 years since my father died. He was a small man, taking after his mother, but what he lacked in stature he made up for in an extraordinary amount of home spun wisdom that for the most part was wasted on me during the time it would have been most beneficial. Like many of his generation his formal education was short lived with most of what he knew resulting from paying attention to life. His “higher” education came from North Africa and Italy during the Second World War and years spent focusing on responsibility to his family and community. It is only now that I am at the age where remembering things my father told me seems to be easier then recalling the code for the garage door opener, that the effect of my father’s little “pearls” has become clear.

Dad’s solutions, which were not taught but non-the-less caught, were quite simple, first; Do what works. If it doesn’t work, do something else. Secondly, none of us are better then any of us. Always remember what you say is who you are so remember who you are. Finally, always do your best. Maybe it’s the age thing but is seems to me in a world that has become increasingly polarized by ideologies that this basic common sense has been misplaced.

What if we did what works rather then doing nothing because we can’t agree on what works? The willingness to be flexible has been compromised by the gods of idealism. It’s good to have a sense of who you are and where you’ve come from. A tradition of thinking that ties us to who we have been and defines who we have become is a good thing. However, blind faith is just that, blind. Tradition is faithfulness to the living ideas of the dead. Traditionalism is faithfulness to the dead ideas of the living. Traditions says, “How can we change and remain faithful to who we are?” Traditionalism says, “How can we stay the same at all costs?” The first is inclusive the second exclusive. It is many times characterized by subtleties, such as the ideology behind the statement; “You’re either for us or against us.” rather then, “If you’re not for us you’re against us.” The first statement sets up the 100% solution that if you don’t think and act like we do there is no other choice than to be “outside.” The second statement exposes the crack of flexibility and becomes the starting point of compromise rather then the ending point. The 100% solution is usually not the solution because it alienates rather then integrates.

It seems as though things have become more one dimensional. People are categorized by one issue definitions. You can be conservative or liberal, business or labor, pro security or privacy, tax or anti-tax, bigger government or smaller government but being a liberal businessperson that favors the idea of minimum living wages is outside of many professed ideologies. The result of the 100% solution is the fanaticism of polarization. Rather it is in government, religion, or personal affairs ideas have become more divergent, less tolerant, and more offensive in dealing with different opinions. The axiom that the purpose of the confrontation of compromise is to change relationships has fallen into disfavor.

The 100% solution has always had an effect on all levels of culture. Human history if full of the pendulum of tolerance and intolerance and I suppose this is no different. Dad would say, “Sit down and think about it for a minute, none of us are better then any of us. Remember who you are and just do your best.”

Brilliant prairie days

It was one of those brilliant prairie days that gleam in your memory like the first time you discovered that birthdays meant presents. The sun looked down from a cloudless sky as the wind moved relentlessly through the field of tombstones bowing the sparse trees in dutiful adulation. My thoughts of those who slept here were painted with faces and stories of a time when life was not as charitable. Even in death these resilient and enduring people steel their faces to the inhospitality of an unforgiving land. Their very presence on this prairie hill behind the small white church presents the inordinate concept of resilient restoration even in death.


This prairie cemetery brought to mind another grave scene in Bethany in which another resilient restoration occurred. The story opens with Yeshua telling His disciples that their friend was dead and they were going to be taught a lesson. This is frequently the way that Yeshua begins His restoration projects by stating “OK, this part of your life is dead, let’s deal with it.” The disciples, being very good disciples, are ready to begin interpreting what is about to happen and as usual they miss the mark. I can imagine the trip to the grave was full of theological intent, prophetic speculation, and a good bit of complaining. It didn’t stop when they arrived; even the well intentioned tried to move away from the point of the trouble. Lazarus sister Mary said, “Lord if you had been here…” and not off preaching somewhere you might have saved him. But just as Yeshua still does with us He says “Where have you laid him?” Where is the dead part of your life? Let’s not spend any more time on “should have, could have, and would have” let’s go to where the body is buried. Because the prospect of restoration is not palatable and therefore not initially chosen, we say, “Lord don’t open it! It stinks in there.” We’ve been devout believers but these things have been hidden so long we can’t imagine what will happen if they are let loose again. He says, “Do you believe me or don’t you?” Let’s roll back the stone.


What a dramatic example of G-d’s willingness to restore us to Himself. We each have our own hidden places that keep us from moving closer to G-d. He hasn’t changed His methods and still brings us back to the place that keeps us from complete restoration. Just as He called Lazarus out for the grave and death He calls us out of those things that keep us away from Him. He wants resilient restoration but it’s up to us to roll away the stone.

Sea of Galilee sunset

Sea of Galilee sunset
Originally uploaded by Klein Family

...vivid impressions of G-d’s touch and an unexplainable feeling of connection to another time and place...

Sunset at Ma'Agan kibbutz on the south shore of the Sea of Galilee.

Home again

It had been a while since I had visited. The trip back had been filled with a torrent of memories and as the crest of the hill disappeared before me the remembering became vivid, almost visible. My mother and father, those early times together in love and caring ignited feeling of life lessons learned, and an unexplainable feeling of connection to another time and place. It was a different place than I was seeing in memory. The buildings were gone and none of the physical signs that a farm had ever been there remained, except for a few abnormal mounds and depression that gave faint impressions of human touch. Yet through my mind’s eye something else appeared. The places that I had experienced and written on my heart years earlier sprang to life as a vision in the mist. I was home again.


Fortune and G-d’s favor allowed for a recent visit to Israel as part of the Union of Messianic Jewish Congregations’ conference and tour. Schedule did not permit a lot of thought or expectation building. I just didn’t have the luxury of spending much time thinking about it, therefore the journey to Eretz Israel came without much expectation. However, I did have my mental picture gleaned from reading scripture, hearing sermons, and seeing travel logs. In my mind it was a broad and vast land filled with palm trees, mountains, quiet pools, and people in bathrobes. It was a spiritual storybook land that had been the place of parables, history, and G-d’s presence. The flight there did little to change these pre-conceptions and was not much more than a succession of small seats, bad food, and waiting for something to happen. Though presenting an extraordinary blend of modern and historic imagery, the Tel Aviv airport did little to arouse anything other than “what’s next?”


Then to the bus and out into “the land.” It was on the bus, within the first half hour, that I began to feel the “crest of the hill” feeling of coming home that quite frankly surprised me. How could I feel like I’m coming home to a place that I had never been and have only thin ancestral connection? This just didn’t make sense. But in spite of what my mind continued to remind me of, my heart did not listen. The longer I was in the land the more feelings of being “home again” kept growing. As I finally yielded to G-d’s attempt to get my attention, the mental realization of this not only being the homeland of the Jewish people, but the homeland of every believer began to unveil itself in consciousness. I knew this place, though skewed in interpretation. It was the place where water had been turned to wine, where people had been raised from the dead, and where G-d’s presence had been revealed. The storybook land turned into the mounds and depressions that gave vivid impressions of G-d’s touch and an unexplainable feeling of connection to another time and place. The Negev, the Sea of Galilee, Capernaum, and on and on pealed scale after scale from my spiritual eyes to reveal the simple fact that this was G-d’s “home town.” This is a place where, as believers, we have in our hearts all visited. I was home again.

On presenting Faulkner's First Edition

To my dear friend:

Life’s character is undiscovered country and at times is relentless in the presentation of its common and ordinary nature. If we, by lack of perception or pure inattention, are persuaded to embrace this adaptation, life emerges painted in muted tones.

Yet life’s nature has a much broader and deeper richness of tone then accepted by inattentiveness. It is abounding with beauty and delight that is offered for the taking by passionate seekers of its heart.

If life can do no more then illustrate its nature, it has outdone itself with you. You are a First Edition, one of a kind, an uncommon individual that continues to reveal the deep colors of life to all who know you.

In the Mirror

As I sat at the bar and looked at myself in the mirror the answer became clear. The irony of the situation did not escape me. A bar is usually the place where things become less clear; however at that point there was unmistakable clarity. I had been here before, maybe not in this place but at this same juncture. The beginning.

Frank Herbert in his classic science fiction trilogy, Dune, begins with an oddly poignant statement, “A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct.” It is a time that only happens once no matter what the clichés say about beginning again or being reborn. The beginning is always different. America has just completed one of the most significant elections in its history. It’s not that the sacrifices required or the resources available are not quality but it is, at the end of the day, simply the unveiling of another opportunity, another beginning. The accolades, analysis, and well wishing aside it is an opportunity to begin.

It is my belief that we all need to become good at beginnings because life is full of them. Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic. (Herbert) Life continually reinvents itself, and we all wander in the same wilderness. Becoming too comfortable with the place you’re at, your accomplishments, or your capabilities, invites stagnation. Greatness is a transitory experience. It is never consistent. It depends in part upon the myth-making imagination of humankind (Herbert).

The secret is to recognize that the beginning itself is what is significant. The opportunity to attack a problem from another direction, and possibly pull out a noteworthy end, is a challenge without equal. We stand poised for the first step of another beginning. Things will go wrong. Every civilization must contend with an unconscious force which can block, betray or countermand almost any conscious intention of the collectivity. (Herbert) However, things will also go right and the delicate undertaking of the beginning will increase the rights and decrease the wrongs.

So in the mirror, “Truth suffers from too much analysis.” (Herbert) It is the challenge of beginning, the opportunity, and getting the balance right that makes life worth coming back. This is our chance. (Again.)

Rabbi Ari's Synogogue

Rabbi Ari's Synogogue
Originally uploaded by Klein Family

...G-d remains active and present in this noisy world. If we want to hear him we have to pay attention...

Rabbi Ari's Synogogue, Israel

I don't sleep well

I don’t sleep well. That’s not to say I’m not a good sleeper. I suppose more accurately I’m a short sleeper. Getting up two or three times every night to stroll around the house, talk to G-d, talk to the cat, or make notes to myself has become normal. At first I was somewhat distraught rehearsing how miserable tomorrow would be if sleep continued its perforated character. Then one night I had a “defining moment”, much like Esther’s ”such a time as this?" defining moment presented by Rabbi Silverman in the Purim message. It came to me in a blinding flash of the obvious, “this is a time to listen”. After that everything was different and I even somewhat enjoy this second sleep idea because in the quiet of the night G-d’s voice seems more singular. It is important to know G-d’s voice in this noisy world full of a virtual cacophony of sounds that continually bombard the ear and cloud the mind.
My defining moment leads me to think about Passover and how G-d’s protection and guidance redeemed the Jewish people from their harsh bondage and saved them from death itself. What if there had been no one to hear and recognizes the voice of G-d. What if Moses would have come down from the mountain and said to his wife, “I saw the darnedest thing, a bush that burned and was not destroyed. You don’t see that every day. What a coincidence.” He would have missed a defining moment and everything would have been different. What if the Hebrew slave that, rather than shaking his head and wagging his finger at Moses, said, “I think I’m going to put blood on my door post.” and changed the history of a nation and the world.
Passover teaches many lessons. The one I think about now is how G-d remains active and present in this noisy world. If we want to hear him we have to pay attention. We can’t sleep through His constant attempts to protect, guide, redeem, and save. He has not stopped speaking or become disinterested. He hears us as we rehearse the miseries of life and waits for us to wake up and recognize that He’s been here all the time waiting to help.

I was expecting to feel sixteen again.

I was expecting to feel sixteen again. After all, my chauffeur had been doing an exemplary job and there was really no need to be anxious to get behind the wheel except for the indefinable urge to take control of a 4,500 pound machine. The Doctor had explicitly prescribed no driving until we were done with the drugs. I don’t know what drugs he was on but I finished mine up and having passed that test, with a blatant disregard for my Doctor, decided to take up the challenge and drive again. Admittedly, there was a bit of excitement and more anticipation then I may want to confess but as I slid behind the wheel a strange feeling of transition shuttered through me very much like the feeling experience when clothing replaced pajamas. One more shift, not back to, but forward toward what some call normal but what I expect to be an abnormal life.

My friend Ralph sent me a letter. It was a delight on a number of levels, not the least of which was that it was hand written. There is something about putting pen to paper that reveals an almost lost intimacy. Ralph hasn’t been driving either. He’s been plodding along the valley path and, though separated by space not spirit, we’ve both enjoyed “spending time in the garden…where I’ve quieted myself enough to hear. G-d speaks, peace follows,” both anticipating getting behind the wheel again. And the “path”ology was as encouraging and worthy of thankfulness for Ralph as for me. Tied up neatly in the little phrase, “The Doctor…feels they were able to get all of it” is such an invitation to the abnormal life.

Life can no longer be normal when you have felt the touch of the healing hand. When you have been plunged beneath the black water of death seeing only the distorted forms of light above the surface and as the shadows of death close in on that light and fear threatens to overtake you there it is. The Healer’s hand. Not thrashing the water frantically searching for you but calmly, not pulling but pushing you from the water. He’s been there all the time holding us up. Maybe its circumstance, or lack of focus, or fear, or selfishness that keeps us from seeing but none-the-less He’s there anyway. So to expect that the One who would support and comfort in such times of need would disappear when situations improve, makes little sense. Therefore, a life lived with attentiveness to the presence and activity of the Comforter can in no way be considered normal. I think Ralph would agree that even though there is a rush about being behind the wheel it’s probably a lot better to just let the chauffeur do His job. I believe being abnormal should be quite normal.

JR

Pajamas

This idea of spending my life in my pajamas is grossly un-attended and should be given much more consideration. My characteristic slothfulness has been allowed to wallow around in a state of euphoria, in the shallow fog of waking or falling back to sleep, intent on one but always ready for the other. The very act of donning clothing signifies an unspoken undercurrent of intent to go and do…something. In my world it is much more difficult to definitively frame what “something” is, then to accept the charge of getting something done. So, logically, when this morning I was charged with the task to; “Get dressed,” until cognition captured consciousness, the very thought gave me pause. But as recollection triumphed over character, the realization of responsibility focused on what was happening today.

I don’t think that whoever named it “pathology” ever intended for it to have the connotation it obviously has. This “Surgical Pathology Report” does much more that crisply and distinctly delineates what has been found on this mysterious path, it also points to what’s ahead on the path. The surgeon asked if I’d seen the report to which I replied I had not been granted the required security clearance to know anything about what was happening inside my body. He then provided me with a verbal code book that allows me to provide some basic translation.

Final Pathologic Diagnosis (this is what was wrong); This was renal cell carcinoma (cancer on the kidney)

Procedure; right kidney, nephrectomy (they took out the kidney; though, in my opinion, generally “ectomys” are things to be avoided; this was a good one)

Prognosis; Tumor infiltrates through the renal capsule, with no extension into perirenal fat and no definitive lymphovascular, vascular, ureteral or soft tissue resection invasion. (They got it all.)

Prescription; Regular blood tests and/or x-ray initially on a 6 month schedule with no further treatment necessary. (go ahead, live the rest of your life)

The Doctor seemed much more concerned about my use of a cane to steady myself then the results of the pathology report. Upon using the cane to emphasize my point and assurance that his bruises would heal, he did concede to my position.

Though somewhat disappointed that I will have to abandon my pajama strategy in lieu of culturally accepted dress codes, the report was very well received and was appropriately celebrated with breakfast at Waffle House. Thanks again to all who have offered prayer and support. I couldn’t have done it without you.

JR

Today...

In looking over this site I'm not quite sure it is serving the purpose for which it was intended. It appears I've become somewhat verbose in description of my inter-health and somewhat lax in reporting on my outer health.

Today marks two weeks since surgery and in my opinion I’m doing quite well. With the aid of my cane and my cat I have become fairly mobile with frequent trips to the garden and my home office. Lola has returned to work and has trained the cat to take over in her absence. Though he is well intentioned, he has a ways to go to fill her shoes. I am blessed by her love and care.

My current challenge is to remember where I am and that is two weeks from surgery. My natural tendency is do more than I’m ready to do. As a result I have some good days and some bad days with most of the bad days being a result of the good days. Slow and steady wins the race. I look forward to attending synagogue this Saturday for the dedication of the Ner Tamid (eternal light) designed specifically by local artisans for Beth Messiah.

September 19th I return to visit the surgeon and received the results of the pathology. I am optimistic and look forward to moving beyond this next step.

JR

New Glasses

I’ve been talking about this Psalm 23 valley for awhile, and because of where I am and maybe who I am, have become focused on this one man’s journey. Today the L-rd convicted me of myopia.

I can remember getting my first pair of glasses. It was in Ms. Krueger’s second grade class in the basement of the main school building at Bristol, South Dakota. Now understand that my public school experience was totally and completely shaped by the reality of my perception and therefore it was not until somewhere in the 4th grade that it was revealed to my perceptive reality that the terms “lower” grades and high school had nothing to do with where they were located in the building. You see at the time that I attended Bristol Public Schools first through the fourth grades were housed in two rooms in the lower level that was the basement of the building. This at one time had been the gymnasium and had, as a result, high ceilings with small “basement” windows at the top of the walls. Grade five through eight were on the first floor with the “high” school grades nine to twelve being quite naturally on the top floor. It wasn’t until I heard the joke; “Why did the student bring a ladder to school?” that I ever puzzled together the concept that being in high school had nothing to do with where it was located. This did two things for me. One it made an immeasurable difference in my education career and two, while not making the joke any funnier it did make the attempt at humor understandable.

It was Ms. Krueger that suggested to my parents that they have my eyes checked. The result was my first pair of glasses and just like in the stories I experienced a miracle. Things that were for the most part conceptual or abstract in understanding became obvious, unmistakable, and clear. Back in the classroom marvels expanded with my first view of how tall those walls really were and how small the windows looked. I truly saw Ms. Krueger for the first time and fell in love immediately and also discovered that there were other kids in the class with me that were more then simply blurry shapes with distinct voices. I discovered I was not alone on this journey. Each one of these now cogent fellow travelers was doing the same thing I was. They were figuring out where they were and where they were going.

So here I am fifty some years later still living in the haze of myopia attempting to figure out where I am and where I’m going. Still looking at those tall fuzzy walls with what might be windows at the top. Still pretty much unaware of those blurry shapes with distinct voices journeying here with me. Then the Teacher suggests that instead of spending so much time figuring out where I am that I may want to test my spiritual lenses. And in His compassion a phone call, unexpected but totally miraculous just as the first day with new glasses.

Nancy and Ralph Thomas have been friends since our time together at a small church (Becida) in the north woods of Minnesota. Our families shared the beginnings of the road of righteousness at this small but fervent body of believers. Ralph and I are the same age and though each on different career paths have stayed loosely connected over the years. Nancy called to tell me that Ralph had surgery for prostate cancer on September 7 and instantly the spiritual lens focused. In this valley, Ralph and I now stand together arm in arm both leaning on the One who has promised to be there with us. In an instant we have become brothers on this path with an unexplainable connection through our travail. Both with G-d gifted help mates to counsel and support along with a myriad of friends that bathe in love, prayer, and encouragement. I here today can see, as if for the first time, that this valley is full of travelers like us. All on this journey and each one of these now cogent fellow travelers is doing the same thing I am. We’re all just trying to figure out where we are and where we’re going. Neither my brother Ralph nor I know in which house we will rest after this time but we will both continue our walk with the One that led us in.

We will pray for Ralph and Nancy as we urge you, too. Pray that they will be alright no matter what the outcome.

JR