Rose Mary Reidhaar

My grandmother passed away this past Wednesday. Aggressive cancer. She stood up to it stalwartly, as was her way. Her daughters were with her, and the end was peaceful. I was lucky to be able to talk with her one last time, the weekend before she passed. We share a few, precious words. It was deeply moving, and a rare gift to share with her.

It's a sad thing, but we can take solace in knowing Gramma was able to reconnect with many, including her brother, over her final months. She was wrapped in love, and there's not much else we could ask for.

My father wrote a really nice piece about her, which I'd like to share here.

My mother-in-law could be tough and fierce in her way.  She had the ability freeze me in my tracks with just a look or pointed question.  She also had strong ideas about how things should be done, or not be done, and how a son-in-law might be savable. She seldom missed a chance to guide and advise me in her Rose Mary approved methods.  I learned to listen, really listen, to her during those teaching moments. 

The fierceness often masked her deep feelings for her children and others.  My wife Barbara related a story that touched me.  Barbara, as a young girl, had broken her glasses at the nose bridge.   Replacement glasses were well beyond the family budget at the time, but Barbara could not see without them.   Rose Mary worked all night fixing those cat-eyed specs.  She glued the break, carefully wrapping color-matched thread to reinforce the repair, and coated the thread with nail polish to further hide the fix.  That she would go to those lengths for her daughter is something that Barbara and I will always remember.  

Over the years, I came to recognize a hard won earnestness in her that we both shared.  An awareness of how things can go terribly wrong and that fierce commitment to protect those you love.  I was finally on to her game!

On a visit some time ago, I noticed that she and I also shared a love of books.  I was checking out her bookshelves and found many classics along with newer books that illustrate the human condition.  I told her I was impressed with her small library and she said she had read some of them over and over.   I later told Barbara about the Great Books-based programs that are offered at some colleges and universities around the country, and that her mom had likely earned the equivalent of a college degree through her readings.  I am glad that Barbara shared that with Rose Mary.  I will miss her.

Oh, and Rose Mary, I really am sorry I backed your car into that shrub.

--David

Ice Bucket Challenge

My friend nominated me for the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge last night, and I must admit, I’m not sure how to proceed. A not-so-small part of me had hoped the whole phenomenon would sail by on the newsfeed without demanding my engagement. It’s gotten politically contentious, and I generally try to avoid politics on facebook.

I tend to say facebook is not the appropriate place to hold these conversations. I also know, however, that I have friends on both sides of the spectrum, and I don’t fancy a fight with any of them. My cowardice withstanding, I do truly think social media is a space fraught with pitfalls for thoughtful debate. So much meaning is lost when we send a brief text-based message. Our meaning is then invented or assumed when it’s received, and so the space is rife with miscommunication. Too much miscommunication on hot-button topics flying around at lightning-fast speeds reinforces divisions, rallying people into their opposing camps, making it feel safer to lob vitriolic grenades at the other side.

Personally, I don’t want to take to the trenches. It makes me uncomfortable when issues get framed as either-or—turned into false dichotomies, as they’re called. Tell people it’s This Way or That Way and we tend to form warring tribes, each tribe fighting valiantly for their cause. Yet, it seems to me that in these conflicts, we don’t often fight for the cause by working constructively toward our goal. We just fight the other side. It’s as if we expect by tearing someone else down that we’ll magically achieve our aims. This is the case even when there’s overlap in the goals of each side, which seems to me is often the case. At least some central principle or core truth we all seek.

You see, I’ve been paying attention to the news and commentary on the Challenge. It’s pretty incredible—both the Challenge and the dialogue about it. It’s made national news and is starting to shake people out into two camps: Ice Bucket is the greatest thing ever versus Ice Bucket is everything that’s wrong with the USA. And, there are arguments on both sides.

On the Greatest Thing Ever side, you’ve got that in the eight and a half months of 2014, the ALS Association has raised about 25 times more money than in the same timeframe of 2013 (over $50 million as compared to $2.1 million). That’s incredible, especially in an economic climate that has been wildly unkind to charitable giving. Beyond the shear amount of money raised, awareness is skyrocketing. More people are talking about the disease, it’s effects, and the challenges faced by those living with it and those working against it than maybe at any other time in its history. Being a relatively rare disease (as compared to those such as cancers), it’s unprofitable for pharmaceutical companies, so they don’t develop treatments. This makes the enhanced funding particularly critical for an ‘orphan disease’ like ALS. It’s bringing hope to people who personally struggle with the disease, for those whose loved-ones are facing its terrible symptoms or have already passed on from them. And quite simply, the quirky nature of the Challenge has brought some joy, added laughter to a summer when many are wanting for the lack of it.

On the Everything Wrong with the USA side, you’ve got the waste of resources: money to buy the ice that could be going to the ALS Association, clean drinking water dumped over thousands of heads—without direct purpose—when half of disease worldwide can be traced to a lack of access to sanitary water. Worse yet, they say, this isn’t even a boost to charitable giving, but only shifting dollars that would go to other charities, negating the net benefits. Most insidiously, the drive behind people taking up the Challenge isn’t necessarily altruistic but more often a new expression of narcissism, the video-selfie claiming a cause while actually aggrandizing the individual. Where were your donations before it got popular? Why do you need ‘likes’ to work for or donate to the cause? There are folks posting Ice Bucket videos to facebook who can’t tell you what ALS is. Overall, it exposes the conceit of the nation—a country where we are so awash in privilege and material excess that we’ll discard the most basic necessities for sustaining life, even celebrate the act of doing so, heedless of the fact that we could literally save lives by merely giving to others what we throw away in service of our own egos. And, as my friend Andy Smolski has pointed out, by focusing in on a spectacle such as the Challenge, we ignore the debate that needs to take place, over the public responsibility to support the work of the ALS Association (and like organizations). In doing so, we unintentionally excuse the public disinvestment in issues of health and well-being.

At the same time as our newfeeds are filled with friends and family being doused with chilly water, profound conflicts are raging, at home and abroad: Ferguson, Missouri; Israel and Gaza; Ukraine and Russia; Syria and Iraq. That’s not to mention battles we’ve grown numb to in South Sudan, confrontations over disputed islands in Southeast Asia, a wave of Central American children coming to the US to escape violence and economic destitution in their home countries. Another affliction, Ebola virus is devastating communities and health systems in Western Africa. Upheaval in our weather: droughts choking farms, diseases ravaging crops in areas once protected by climactic barriers, shrinking ice caps and growing deserts. Our world is full of chaos, fighting, struggle.

I guess this boiling mountain of strife and suffering didn’t offer enough opportunities for us to spew the full weight of our Pugilist’s Thesaurus at each other, though. That’s amazing, considering these conflicts touch on so many raw wounds from inequality to religious and racial tensions, from grand scale geopolitical maneuvering to niche arguments over the ethics of developing and administering experimental medical treatments in the international context. We needed another fight, another chance to take up arms in verbal jousting as we battle for the moral high ground. Why couldn’t we avoid this fight? Why couldn’t we approach each other like people dealing with people?

In another version of the Ice Bucket Challenge, I see things playing out this way:

A young man, confronted with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis decides he wants to make a difference in the effort against this disease. He notices some folks raising money and awareness for the fight against another affliction, by dumping ice water on their heads and calling more to do the same, and he adopts it. Something is different: the timing, where he lives, his abnormally large number of digital friendships, something. It takes off, catches like wildfire. Friends, whole families, sports icons, film celebrities, thousands upon thousands from across the country taking up the Challenge, passing it on, and donating to the ALS Association. Money is pouring in, in unprecedented amounts.

Amidst all the laughter and joy and help for a good cause, while allowing a little personal embarrassment, some folks notice a small hitch. This thing has grown so widespread, it might actually be doing unintentional harm. These folks speak up, praise the support given and the generosity shared, and encourage others to join in. But, ask that when others do join in, they consider finding a way to save the water.

The Ice Bucket crew doesn’t get angry and defensive, because they haven’t been attacked. They acknowledge there are other ways to keep this great thing rolling.

Maybe we can collect the splash back from our daily showers, put some reusable ice packs in to cool it down and dump it over our head while standing in home gardens, watering the tomatoes at the same time.

Maybe we could animate a filmstrip of Stick-figure Selves dumping a truckload of ice water over their heads, then calling out others to do the same—as well as give a few bucks to a good cause.

Maybe we can also keep in mind the other struggles taking place right now, which also need our care and attention—our collective action.

My philosophical bent is generally towards integration. I think we’re better together than apart. I think when we bring concepts into context, we understand them better than when we pull them into abstract isolation. I think we accomplish more when we join forces than when we bicker and fight and hurl insults.

The folks taking the Ice Bucket Challenge, they want to chip away at some of the pain in the world, and they want to build stronger friendships while they do it. The folks that want everyone to stop doing the Challenge, they want to minimize waste and shift resources to people who desperately need them, to chip away at some of the pain in the world, and I bet they wouldn’t be sorry of stronger friendships while they do it, either. These are the concepts (ease suffering, build relationships, ensure the planet provides for all and keeps doing so), and the context of this situation is—broadly—a better world.

Now, I know this is idiotic over-simplification. A better world can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people. These things, these meanings don’t all line up; sometimes they even conflict. Sometimes one group specifically thinks the eradication of another IS the only possible better world.

That doesn’t mean my philosophy is bunk, because To Ice Bucket or Not To Ice Bucket doesn’t require any destruction to be resolved. And, I’ll bet you that deep down, folks can always uncover an option other than destruction that leads to a better life for themselves, a better world for us all.

So, I’m not going to Ice Bucket. I will donate to the ALS Association, in support of all whose lives are touched by the disease. In special recognition of the Westerfields in Puyallup—my thanks to you for all the kindness you’ve shown me over the years.

I am going to challenge myself—and anyone else with the patience to read my obnoxiously long essay—to forgo the trenches. Escape the misguided and phony battles. I'm challenging myself to engage more, even when it might upset somebody. I'm going to try and work through the rough patches, to build understanding and shift the focus towards gaining mutual benefit.

We can all work towards a better world through our compassion instead of our violence, through unity instead of division. We don’t have to choose This Way or That Way. We can choose a way that gets us all at least a little closer to where we all want to be. I think, but I could be wrong.

Robin Williams...

died earlier this week. It's a real blow. I think he was my favorite actor. Didn't connect as well to his comedy routines, but I loved his acting. Whether he was being super silly, like Mrs. Doubtfire and Aladdin and Jack, or deeply profound like Good Will Hunting and Dead Poets Society, or intensely emblematic of the human condition in Awakenings and Bicentennial Man and What Dreams May Come, or even super creepy like One Hour Photo, I was always able to connect with something he portrayed. Remember Hook? FernGully? His performances follow the landscape of my youth, and it's just hollowing to imagine the world without him. His daughter wrote:

Dad was, is and always will be one of the kindest, most generous, gentlest souls Ive ever known, and while there are few things I know for certain right now, one of them is that not just my world, but the entire world is forever a little darker, less colorful and less full of laughter in his absence.

That reminded me of an exchange from Jack, which seems suddenly, retroactively ominous. Bill Cosby plays Robin Williams' tutor in a story where Robin is a child aging physically at four times the normal rate (so he looks like a 40 year old at 10 years of age--perfect role for him, right?). In this scene, Robin is depressed and withdrawn, having been pulled from school because he had a heart attack. Bill is disheartened by the surrender. Mostly it's what Bill says:

Bill Cosby: You know why I like to teach children, Jack? So I don't get so wrapped up in being an adult. So I can remember there are other things that are important in life - like riding a bike, playing in a treehouse, splashing in water with your good shoes on. And you, my friend, were my most special student. And until recently, you were everything I ever wanted in a student. You were a shooting star amongst ordinary stars. Have you ever seen a shooting star, Jack?

Robin Williams: No.

Bill: It's wonderful. It passes quickly, but while it's here it just lights up the whole sky - it's the most beautiful thing you'd ever want to see. So beautiful that the other stars stop and watch. You almost never see one.

Robin: Why not?

Bill: Beacuse they're very rare. Quite rare. But I saw one. I did.

Robin: I just want to be a regular star.

Bill: Jack, you'll never be regular. You're spectacular.

He really was spectacular, and gone too soon for all of us who owe him a debt of joy.

Can Get Some Satisfaction

It’s outrageously gorgeous outside today. Low 70s, sunny, pleasant breeze, just enough clouds to give the sky some character, and unnaturally low humidity for Illinois in late July. Today, I received an overwhelmingly positive yearly review at work. Yesterday, I whipped up a number of delicious dishes from yogurt to pizza, loaves of bread to vegetable soup, and topped off by putting away yet another gallon of dill pickles for the winter. Saw a delightful play at the Shakespeare Festival, Saturday evening. Will be going to Much Ado About Nothing on Wednesday (with a date, no less!), and starting next week, I’ll spend two successive weekends celebrating the marriages of close friends from college.

Here I sit on my… patio? Well, out back of my apartment, anyhow. I’m sipping a beer on a Monday evening, watching the wind play through a hodge-podge of potted plants. A solid month passed the halfway point of my thirty-first year, enjoying such uncommon July weather following one hell of a good workday that came on the heels of a beautiful weekend, and I find myself thinking, does anyone deserve such contentment? No doubt many do, but I can’t shake the feeling the world has been too good to me.

A social science heavy undergraduate degree, combined with a graduate program in community development and Peace Corps service certainly drove home the whole unworthy-of-my-privilege lesson, which I still fully recognize and stand by. But HOLY SHIT am I grateful for it! The depth of contentment I feel these days, the peaceful community I live in, the prosperity I enjoy, clean bill of health, supportive family, generous friends, unrivaled educational opportunities, expansive global adventures, varied skillset building professional development, and full practical use of the world’s preeminent, theoretical and legally codified, set of human rights (straight, white male of upper-middle-class-educated suburbia, sup?). Fair few in the current times are afforded so much. I note this fully aware, too, that life can get better.

My lifestyle is probably on the modest end of the spectrum by U.S. standards, though undoubtedly on the lavish end worldwide. And, I reveled just as much in the bounty of my daily life when I was on the lavish end of Woleai’s spectrum, yet the modest end worldwide. Reflecting on any of the happiest, most fulfilled times in my life says pretty clearly to me that material concerns aren’t so terribly important.

It’s the purpose. Just listened to a news story today, in fact, talking about how stress doesn’t affect people living a purposeful life in the same way as those less mindful of what they’re working/living for. That definitely matches my experience to date. I feel so much purpose, deep and rich purpose in my day-to-day, and it’s combined with clarity of vision to really see both my goals and how I intend to reach them. Swirl it all together with the belief that the World can-AND-will get better; well, then you have the most honestly satisfied, stable and sensational days I’ve known.

Taken altogether, I even have an answer to the logical question: what else could a person ask for? That more people could enjoy the same. Living the Dream. Hope you are, too.

Sunrise

"What do you expect?" The words pulled from his lips as a bent nail from weather beaten oak. "How am I supposed…? You come, demand these, things, as if it's poss--." Powerful winds swept in the vortex of his eyes, tumbling her questions, one's end over the other. "Fine. Okay," he rumbled, "What do I…?" Heavy lids closed, momentarily quelling the storm. One slow, surprisingly gentle intake of air, and twin hurricanes burst open. "I want animals to husband, land to steward, plants to grow, and a house to build." She might've thought that was all, but a flush of emotion on his cheeks belied more torrent.

"I want a woman to come into that house, take up the work of plants, land and creatures along side me. A woman to love. A woman to pour her love forth, and imbue the space surrounds us with her being. I want to push, challenge, fight, come back, find our rest together, make those separate selves more completely and deeply human as we each reveal the other to ourselves." His words grew quieter, yet only shook with the more power, "I want that we fill our home till the convergence of two hearts makes one, splits again, springs forth a child. To cradle, to care for, to teach, to raise to fledging. I want to watch that embodied Love fly from our home towards Freedom in the single most unique, rendingly beautiful, and common picture of loss and fulfillment."

No longer could his gaze be met, which had set upon her unblinking. She heard him turn his head towards the horizon, and his voice softened to broke canvas, "Through that loss, again to cling, one to the other, tend our home and selves knowingly and fearlessly into those finals days… beyond them." Hardly a whisper now, "What do I want?" She could hear his eyes once more upon her downcast face. "I want Life. A life. What else is there?" One hand to her breast, she retreated a half-step, drew closer. His breath came shallow, quivering, as his jaw absently chewed the sudden silence.

A weak, spring sun crept towards the eastern ridge's crest as slowly and timidly as she raised her chin. Morning light burned in her gaze the instant their eyes met, and he couldn't say for certain, to the day she buried him, from which source came the Fire.

Travel On

Late January in the year two thousand fourteen. Once again, I find myself sitting in a coffee shop in Bloomington, IL, reflecting on transition. Just a little ways down the page you can see the last time I sat, in this shop, and contemplated moving states and changing jobs, ‘round abouts May 2012.

Up until the second week of this month, I have been living in eastern Pennsylvania and working on a small agricultural community. Up until the second week of this month, if someone asked what I did, I’d tell them, “I’m a farmer, and some other stuff on the side—working with folks with developmental disabilities”. Definitely made me sound kind of interesting, different. Now if posed that question, I’ll say, “I coordinate a graduate program in community development at Illinois State University”. It’s definitely fancier, and—for the first time in several years—neither ‘student’ nor ‘volunteer’ are applicable terms for describing my occupation. Soon my bank account will be better situated for tackling my debts, and already my hands are softening as callouses fade into memory.

I left Kimberton, PA and Camphill for Bloomington-Normal, IL and the Stevenson Center, making the switch from community oriented agriculture/care-giving to community development/education focused administration. Left the sorta rural countryside for these little twin cities. Packed up my little bedroom in a twelve-person home and unpacked in a one-bedroom apartment of my own. Traded in my patched up jeans and flannel work gear for business casual slacks and button-downs. A five-minute each way walking commute turned into an hour-long mix of hoofing and busing it (hopefully soon to converted into a twenty-minute bike ride). Left behind a solid group of friends and pseudo-family for an as-of-yet undefined social landscape. My new co-workers are great, and I certainly have some friends among the faculty/staff here at ISU, but not quite to the point of a regular hey-let’s-kick-it-Saturday-night kind of friend you know? That’ll come, no doubt, but currently still in the midst of that transition.

Heading into this move, I was in better shape than I’d been for quite some time. Went through a break up over the summer, which left a big void. The relationship had been a major driving force in my move to PA, and I think that fact made staying in Kimberton a challenge. I wouldn’t arbitrarily live far from family. Illinois isn’t, in practical terms, that much closer to Idaho, but I’m here with more personal drive, which helps. Anyhow, I left the Village feeling very supported and appreciated—very solid closure. Spent some really quality time with friends, said my good-byes, boarded the train, and twenty-seven hours later pulled into Normal.

Being back here has been surreal in some ways, gratifying in others, challenging in a few (getting a driver’s license has been obscenely difficult), and overall positive. I love being in control of my food. Though I was fed incredibly well in Kimberton, cooking for myself is probably the best thing, most joyful part of my world right now. Reconnecting with friends here is a close second, and if I could spend more time doing so, it would probably at least tie cooking. Having a place of my own is pretty stellar, too. It’s getting fairly settled, and the process is delightful. Thinking about the approaching growing season and how I’ll plug into the local agriculture scene is similarly a delight.

I need some friends to hang with, and a kitchen table. Separately. Not the two together, but each individually. Though, bringing the two together is certainly a well-worn recipe for fun. Need to get the bike rolling again, too. Commuting via bus has its benefits, for sure, but I want more freedom.

Freedom! That’s the emotion. Following the offer for this job and, even more so, an amazing New Year’s vacation with friends from Micronesia, I’ve felt freer than maybe any other time in my life. Not just relieved of obligation but capable, fiercely capable. I can do stuff. I can make my life what I want it to be. I can attract a woman! Ha, well… we’ll see about that last part. Point is, that void I’d felt in PA carried along with it a certain dragging quality. I was so damned tired. Hanging out with friends, for the first time in my life, I had trouble keeping my eyes open. Literally. Even after the end of peak growing season—June through August, abouts—I didn’t seem to have the energy I’m used to having. Knowing I had the next step prepared and then being holistically reinvigorated by the amazing spirit and inexpressibly deep friendships of Team Chuuk, led to a profound change coming over me. No more drooping eyelids, no more longing for bed when hanging out with friends at night. The fire is back!

It’s so damn cold in the Midwest today, the University closed down. So, I’m off work and figured this a good opportunity for an update. Not sure if they’ll ever get more frequent than the twice a year deal I seem to have going on now, but hey, it’s something. Certainly is keeping track of the travels.

A Traveling Porter continues into uncharted territory of financial stability, professionalism, and adulthood. Thanks for following along.