Wilma’s “Independence Day”

Posted on July 4, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Good Morning,Wilma and Me

This morning brings news that my long time adopted Grandmother Wilma Keeney passed from this, to a world without tears and into the hands of God at about 1:00AM this morning. 

When I refer to adopted, it was “her” family that “adopted” me some 40+ years ago, but it has only been the last ten years that I have been able to spend some time with Wilma and most of this when she moved in with her grand daughter Colleen.  It is odd how things work out, but I saw more of her after we moved to Arizona, albeit limited to the quick visits up to Oregon.

Wilma wanted to spend the last days of her nine plus decades of life, at home in the company of family and not in a “rest home”.  Through what must have been a seemingly unending effort of family, her wish was granted.  She had her own “suite” in the house and continual activity of family and friends. 

There were lessons learned about life, wisdom shared and memories created.  Many good and others… well just the hard facts and realities of what come at the end of life.  There is a process, the stages defined and the outcome known. 

Some of us never see it coming.  We do not have the opportunity to prepare.  While there may be some that would say, “I don’t want to know when my last days have arrived”, it is without a doubt a “once in a lifetime” opportunity to set things in order.  A chance to dispel the “if only”.  Wilma had that unique and wonderful opportunity and used it.  There was time enough to say goodbye to everyone.  Time enough to say what she felt needed to be said.  She was blessed with a clear mind during these days, even though her body was infirm.  She was packed and ready to leave this world and told me so when I had my opportunity to say goodbye to her in April of this year.

As I held her hand, I thanked her for accepting me into the family, she told me that she loved me and I her.  That was one of the most beautiful things I could have heard.  That was her final gift to me.  With a final hug, a smile, some tears and a look back as I left her room, I knew it would be the last time I would see her.  Such is life and such are goodbyes.

Opportunities come and go, but never stick around very long.  Grab them when you can and tell the ones you love how you feel. 

Love, Dad

Photo: Wilma’s hand in mine taken: 4-20-10  (I used this photo on an earlier post, but felt it appropriate again today.)

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Life Without an Eraser

Posted on June 20, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Fathers Day

Good Morning,

Jeanie shared a quote with me that apparently came from an unknown author.

“Life is drawn without an eraser.”

In looking it up, I came across this quote:

“Life is the art of drawing without an eraser.” By John W. Gardner

I’m pretty sure that the first one is a paraphrase of the second.  So, I took the liberty of modifying it again into one that fits how I tend to look at life.

“We write the story of our life without an eraser.”

Today is “Fathers Day” and the 100th anniversary of the same.  While any day could be, we tend to set aside certain days for these kind of observances, so we can be organized when we celebrate things.  Such as it is in structured societies.  It is a time to think about our fathers and their fathers and if we are fortunate enough to be fathers ourselves, an opportunity to reflect on how we are doing and compare one to the next.

I was lucky in that I knew my father from the time I could first remember until the time he left us and his body behind to become once again part of the earth.  As a child all the way through adulthood, he was there to tap me on the right and left and sometimes on the butt to help keep me on an otherwise righteous path.  Of course after I left home it was a bit harder to do that, so his guidance came more in the form of suggestions and many times tactfully wrapped in his own experiences.  I have discovered with that approach, the “suggestions” go down better that way as we can then evaluate a situation, make our choices and own them.  Did I always take my father’s advice?  Nope.  Was his evaluation of any given situation always 100%?  Nope, but I would give him a 99% and that was only because there were things of which he was not aware.

Our life is a unique story and to be sure everybody has one.  We write it with every breath we take and every second is like a word and every minute becomes a sentence.  Then the days turn into paragraphs and the years into chapters.  There is no time to go back and erase a thing, even if we could.  There is no “undo” or “do over” button for this is hardcore, old school, pen and indelible ink and by the way, the teacher says there will be an exam at the end.  We didn’t get a textbook or manual, so we are pretty much left to learn from our “life lessons” as they come along and we experience them.  If we are wise, we learn from others mistakes, (many like the ones our fathers made) before we make them ourselves.

But make no mistake; there is just so much ink and paper allotted to each of us.  What we write, how we write and where we chose to expend our valuable time, is up to us.  Ask yourself what value are you putting on this moment, this irreplaceable commodity and is the story you write, one that others would like to read.  Is it?  Are you wasting time trying to change the past?  Are you focusing too much on tomorrow and missing today?  I can tell you that age has a way of putting things in perspective and if you are fortunate to live long enough to see it, you will be able to survey all of the choices you have made, whether you like them or not and the outcomes.  I think that is what some refer to as wisdom.  I’m not saying I am wise just because I am your dad and older than you, but I do have a head start.

Choose wisely, then own it.

Love, Dad

PS: While looking into this subject, I came across a blog that I feel had a relevant message.  If you have the time, take a moment and read the post Big Fat Pink Eraser by Kim Arnold.

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Thinking About Integrity

Posted on June 6, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Good Morning,

I have been thinking about Integrity. 

What does it really mean when we say someone has it or lacks it?  Let’s start with some definitions I found:

Definitions Of Integrity

From the on-line free dictionary: In·teg·ri·ty ( n-t g r -t ) n.

  1. Steadfast adherence to a strict moral or ethical code.
  2. The state of being unimpaired; soundness.
  3. The quality or condition of being whole or undivided; completeness.

 From Wikipedia: Integrity is a concept of consistency of actions, values, methods, measures, principles, expectations and outcomes. In Christian ethics, integrity is regarded as the quality of having an intuitive sense of honesty and truthfulness in regard to the motivations for one’s actions. Integrity can be regarded as the opposite of hypocrisy, in that it regards internal consistency as a virtue, and suggests that parties holding apparently conflicting values should account for the discrepancy or alter their beliefs.

 The word “integrity” stems from the Latin adjective integer (whole, complete). In this context, integrity is the inner sense of “wholeness” deriving from qualities such as honesty and consistency of character. As such, one may judge that others “have integrity” to the extent that one judges whether they behave according to the values, beliefs and principles they claim to hold.

 Wholeness In Message

 For the past seven months, my son Michael has been going through, what I can only describe as, a logic defying divorce process.  Having spoken with him along the entire way, it’s been frustrating, as a Father, to observe what happens when pride starts to overshadow progress.  He has certainly been more patient than I would have been.

 Having voluntarily stifled his voice for the past seven months, so as to not “interfere” with the process, his time and patience finally ran out.  Last week, Michael announced on his blog that he and Kelly are expecting a little girl (Sophie) in September. 

 Hallelujah!  Finally, the whole family can openly celebrate in this wonderful gift of life. 

 For many years prior, and certainly during the time he has been blogging, Michael has believed in being open about his “life lessons” in what he has termed as a certain “transparency”.  People who come to know Michael and his blog have learned that “what you see is what you get”.  Honesty, insightfulness and his integrity of purpose, have been the primary goals.

 By the many, many comments received from the “Good Times, Hard Times and Red Baby Shoes” post, the community of friends, family and perfect strangers were greatly supportive of the announcement.  However, there was one that was not. 

 That particular comment started out by stating that Michael needed to show more “integrity”.  Reading this left me questioning the true definition of the term.  While it wasn’t the purpose of the post, the presumption here was that he lacked integrity for including (or was it excluding) his “soon to be ex-wife” and making her a “mute character”.   

 Now if I understand the definition of integrity correctly (see above), it has almost everything to do with being complete and adhering to a set of values you personally embrace. 

 Even though my values vary from yours, the act of me embracing them is the true test of my integrity.  This remains true, even when you disagree with my values.

 As an extreme example, suicide bombers who fulfill their missions “completely” and based on their own sets of beliefs are displaying integrity.  By the same logic, the Kamikaze pilots of WWII would have had integrity.  I’m not saying these were good acts, from my point of view, but they absolutely required a commitment to integrity beyond the norm.

 So “integrity” by pure definition, may not be something we would always want to use when referring to someone’s actions that haven’t met our own moral expectations. 

 Perceiving or claiming that a person has integrity, or lacks it, really becomes a subjective judgment.  Just because we disagree does not mean that the other person lacked the personal purpose necessary to achieve integrity.  If, on the other hand, the person has not followed through with their true beliefs, then they would not have shown integrity and that would be based on fact.

 I tend to question the motives behind those who criticize others when they themselves are flawed.  Jack Johnson put it well in one of his song, Brushfire Fairytales, “We are only what we hate.”  When we question someone’s integrity for an ideal that we hold, should we also question our own?

 Have some integrity = Be true to yourself.

 Love, Dad

Street Sign: Robert Finkelstein’s Blog

Integrity Pyramid: Steve Bosserman’s Blog 

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Hardest Part of Being a Parent

Posted on May 29, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Good Morning,

Last weeks letter was based on one of the thirteen questions Michael had sent me in January last year.  This week I have decided to take on the next one on the list.  As I also stated, none of them were what I would consider easy questions and this one did not disappoint.

“What is the hardest part about being a parent?”

Where to start?  There are so many things to consider about this one and while the question is directed to me, I know that other parents would probably have a plethora of answers just as poignant as the ones I could/would give.  So these answers are the ones that come to mind first, while knowing full well that tomorrow others will come to mind maybe just as valid.

While God has graced me with not having to face this one, I have to believe that losing a child would have to be the most difficult.  I don’t believe we are ever supposed to outlive our children.  Yet I know there are so many parents that face that situation each day.  A baby that doesn’t quite come to full term and the immense pain to the heart of having life lost while inside of you.  Maybe your child that drowns in a swimming pool or possibly from some disorder unknown or untreatable.  It could be your teen that makes a bad choice and ends up in a situation having fatal consequences.  The child that’s barely an adult and dies in the service of our country, while there is honor there is also pain that lasts a lifetime.  No matter if it were early in life or later, losing a child to me would be the hardest part.

Having grown up in a family with a disabled child (my sister) and only sibling, there had to be heartbreak when this kind of thing is first revealed. My Mom once mentioned that my dad cried when the doctor told him about their daughter in that she would be mentally retarded.  Dad or Mom didn’t love her any less, of that I am sure, but their dream of what her life could have been was dashed that day.  Your child, the very part of you, now in a life you never intended or would have imagined and then of course there is the moral impositions and obligation to your own.  It is an impossible situation and one that can try your very soul and in some cases even your belief in God.  So many questions unanswered.

As a parent, there have been times when it has been difficult (hard).  Having three children, let me say, there have been opportunities, plenty of them.  And then along come the Grandchildren and a whole new set of opportunities.  That is part and parcel of allowing your children to find themselves, but it is not without risk.  Talking with friends and sharing experiences along the way, I have come up with this list.  Trying to imagine the angst some of them went through was sobering.  So here is a list that I think would be difficult as a parent, any parent:

  • Seeing your child in jail or visiting them there.
  • Having them run away as a teen and not knowing where they are or even if they are still alive.
  • Consoling them when they have marital difficulties or abused in a relationship.
  • Remaining “neutral” through their marital difficulties and not choosing sides.
  • Helping them with and through an abortion.
  • Supporting them through a divorce and the aftermath.
  • Dealing with a relative or acquaintance that has sexually stepped “over the line” with your child.
  • Giving “Hard Love” when you just want to hug them.
  • Seeing them waste a beautiful, potential and wonderful mind with drugs.
  • Having your child drop out of school and realizing the future difficulties for them it will bring.
  • Their first, second and third car accident, especially if it was your car.
  • Seeing your child injured in just about any way because when they hurt, you hurt as well.
  • Realizing your child is going to college or university when you haven’t planned for it.

These are all big things and unfortunately negative for the most part, but that is what difficult is sometimes.

There are other times that are difficult emotionally and just part of parenting.  Here are a few that come to mind:

  • Helping mend a broken heart from that “first love”.
  • Seeing your daughter dressed for the prom and realizing she has grown into a young woman almost overnight.
  • Your child leaving for a year on an foreign exchange or off to college for the first time.
  • Giving your daughter/s away in marriage.
  • Seeing them move away to other parts of the country while knowing that this is also a sign of good parenting when children can “leave the nest”.
  • Saying “goodbye” after the holidays visit knowing another visit will be months away.
  • Realizing that they have their own lives and it is important not to interfere.  Avoiding “MILSY” (Mother-In-Law Syndrome).
  • And possibly the most difficult… To NOT give advice when it ISN’T asked.

Being a parent is never easy and every child is different.  Other than marriage, I cannot imagine an institution that can bring so much joy and sorrow to your life.  To be a parent means stepping out there and exposing your heart.  Not everyone is equipped for the challenge and by society’s standards many fail, but while the risk may be great, the rewards can be so much greater.

I have no regrets being a parent and believe all of you have turned out to be good right-minded citizens.  And while each of you has chosen a different path to get to where you are today, I am proud of each of you and who you have become.

Love, Dad

Image: Canyon Child Care

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How Technology has Evolved in My Lifetime

Posted on May 23, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Good Morning,

It was January 31, 2009 when Michael, after not receiving a letter for a while and concerned that I was putting a hold on them or running out of things to write about, sent me a list of questions.  The purpose was to stimulate some ideas and in the process provide fodder for more letters, hopefully leaving something of my perspective for his grandkids.

I have mentioned it before in past letters that there are always questions left unanswered, when our parents have passed.  Some come minutes, even seconds after they are gone, while others can take years to surface.  Having personally experienced this in my own life, I am now convinced that it is impossible to think of everything, for as we mature our perspectives change and along with them the understanding of things around us.  We just don’t know, what we don’t know and therefore the questions don’t exist until that golden moment of enlightenment.  That “Ah Ha” moment and things become lucid.

Anyway, the list consisted of thirteen questions, none of them easy I might add, so with this letter, I will attempt to answer the first one on the list.  “How has technology changed in your lifetime?”  Are you kidding… in 65 years… there have been changes.

  • Well, I was born in September of 1945 and World War II was rapidly coming to an end.  Germany had surrendered and was being carved up like a Black Forest Ham.  In August, Enola Gay had delivered “Little Boy” and Bockscar “Fat Man” respectivly with devastating affects on Hiroshima and Nagasaki Japan.  Now the term “Mushroom Cloud” would no longer just refer to smoking Psilocybin (Magic Mushrooms) and the world as we knew it would never be the same, since the atom also split our innocence.  I guess you could say I was born into the “Atomic Age”.  I then had to learn to “Duck and Cover” when in grade school, because Russia now had the “Bomb”.  The drill/instructions were such that as soon as we saw the “blinding” flash, we were to find cover (while blind I guess) and assume the fetal position.  I had bad dreams about that flash, as only a kid’s imagination can conjure.  Well that and giant ants, but that is for another story.  In later years and being a bit less naive, I learned that the whole exercise would have been just as effective as just puting my head between my legs and kissing my ass goodbye.  Of course butter, red meat and smoking were good for you too.
  • My birth was before television’s “second birth” (being stalled by WWII) and radio was still “King of the Airwaves”.  We got our first black and white television in about 1953 when I was seven.  It was a 15” Philco (Philadelphia Storage Battery Company) and the cabinet was about the size of a small washing machine today.  Actually it looked kind of like a “front loader” with a wood cabinet and a very small door.  Yes and my mom kept telling me not to sit too close.  It was 15” of magical technology and Bridgett Bardot was on the Ed Sullivan Show, I didn’t want to miss a thing as my hormones demanded it.  French women were sooo sexy.  I was not then or now interested in her political or social views, as my interests were much more purient at the time.  I’m sure the radiation from that set didn’t affect me a bit bit bit.
  • As a kid in the 50s, I went to Saturday Matinees with my friends for a quarter.  That was about the only way you would see a movie in color.  Color TV didn’t really come out much until the late 50s early 60s and then I would go to the neighbors to watch Bonanza on NBC.
  • When I was born, medical x-rays were still in their infancy and a contributing reason why my sister had problems at birth.  Pelvic x-rays were not common at the time.  Mom was not capable of having a normal birth easily, which the x-ray would have shown.  My mom and I were 10 days in hospital after she had a C-section required for my extraction.  At my chunky 10 pounds, what woman wouldn’t want a C-section?  Unless of course you needed that extra garage.  The doctor bill…$150 and the hospital bill…$150 for the whole thing.  That’s $300 out the door.  (BTW the original bill is still in my baby book)  That’s a far cry from the $60,000 for my 4 days in hospital last year.
  • I remember you could go into a local Shoe Store and with a heavily promoted device called a Shoe Fitting Fluoroscpe, see your foot inside of a shoe to see how it fit.  Your foot skeleton and shoe all right there in an eerie green glow.  Amazing stuff back then.  I guess we are lucky we still have feet since they were quietly taken off of the market and out of the stores when it was realized just how dangerous they really were.  Rad!  Or should I say LOTS of RADS! Hey, who needs a nightlight when your feet glow?
  • The first “computer”, the Electronic Numerical Integrator Analyzer and Computer (ENIAC) was fired up in November 1945.  A name I’m sure that helped pave the way for many more acronyms.  The whole thing took up 1,800 square feet.  That is bigger than our whole house!  Not quite what you would call a portable.  It was 1955 before it was finally shut down.  The same year Bill Gates was born and Albert Einstein died.  Curious…
  • I had personal music in the 50s and I carried them around in an 8” X 8” box to my friend’s house so we could play them on the phonograph.  The records were called 45s because they turned at 45 RPM.  They cost a buck and for that you got two songs.  The one you bought the record for and the other was a “B” side that usually stayed pristine.  Of course with “Elvis” there were no “B” sides.  We actually danced to the music, while our parents thought we were loosing it.  I suppose to them, we were… not much different from today.  It was the birth of “Rock n Roll” and we were at the beginning of it all.  Looking back, those times seem more special now than when we were living them.  I suppose that is true of a lot of things in life. 
  • When I was 12, I got up at 2AM to watch “Sputnik” go over.  Russia (USSR) had beaten us into space with the first orbiting satellite.  I remember the early days of our Space Program were difficult with failure after failure.  I also remember the elation of our first successful launch for the USA, but Sputnik had gotten the cigar.  Second place sucked.  Now there are hundreds of satellites that are operational and thousands of others that have died out and become space debris orbiting the earth.  I suppose the space program has been and contributed to the most impactive technological changes in my life.
  • As a kid, the robots were from outer space and they were generally malevolent.  There have been a lot of changes to the technology since then, like replacing autoworkers, doing jobs that could get us killed and/or a company sued.  It has been fascinating to watch the evolution.  I guess I can say robots evolve.

I suppose to sum it up and keep this from going on too long, just take the things I started with here, think of the evolution behind each and you will start to see what I have seen, albiet only in your mind’s eye at least.  It has been nothing short of amazing and with each passing day, I hear of new things that many couldn’t have imagined around the time I was born.

I love new technology and embrace it.

Love, Dad

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Pinewood Derby “1988”

Posted on May 16, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Good Morning,

Yesterday while rummaging through some stuff in the garage I came across a box that contained the Pinewood Derby cars from when Michael was in Cub Scouts.  I don’t get rid of much as you know, so there exist pieces of the past just about everywhere you choose to dig and these were no exception.

As a parent you can get swept up in the activities.  Actually, that is the way it is supposed to work with scouting.  The year was about 1988, Michael then 9 had to build his car for the race and it was just too good of an opportunity/excuse not to jump in and make my own.  The “Pinewood Derby Kit” consisted of a block of wood, axels (nails) and wheels.  The rest was up to the scout, which allowed for creativity and a sense of accomplishment.  As a parent it was difficult not to do too much of the project (a trap some fathers fall into) and let Michael keep possession.  My original Pinewood Derby car had long since disappeared in the wake of growing up and well, you just can’t keep everything no matter how hard you try.  At the time Jon Jr., then 18, was living with and also got wrapped up in the adventure.  We had a basement workshop at the time and we all got busy making our cars.  Michael’s turned out to be a somewhat typical racecar with the number 78 (his birth year) while Jon Jr. was into Ranchero’s and I took the more extreme route with a natural wood body.  Jon Jr. and I couldn’t race for the trophy anyway as only the scouts could do that, but it was a chance for us to “show our stuff” and support Michael in the process.

Michael took first place in the race the year before with #24, so enthusiasm was high for a repeat.

We did a few little extras like turning the wheels and axels on a jeweler’s lathe to true them up.  Using an electronic scale to get the weight just right and then making sure the paint jobs looked the part.  It was fun doing the project with the boys.  Good times and a little competition as well which kept it interesting.

We helped one of the other scouts, Tony with his car.  As I remember his dad was away and couldn’t participate in the build.  Tony’s car got the same treatment as ours, so not to show favoritism.  Knowing his background, it may have been the first time someone actually helped him with something like that.

Somehow in the enthusiasm of the moment of planning this whole thing I volunteered to make the racetrack.  That turned out to be a much bigger project than the car.  I wonder sometimes how I get myself into such things.  Here is a picture of a track, but not the one I built.  There must be a photo somewhere, yep somewhere in the “stuff”

Race day came and the cars ran well.  I don’t recall all of the results, but as luck would have it Tony’s car won and he went home with the trophy.  Not sure that went down so good with Michael at the time, but it was a good lesson in sharing and made it a great day for Tony.

If you are going to share your talents and methods with a competitor, when they win you do as well.  And while it may not have been the competition, it is most certainly the integrity.

Love, Dad

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Mother’s Day & Mementos

Posted on May 9, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Good Morning,

Hallmark commercials tend to pick up just before Mother’s Day and there is no wonder since it is the third largest card-selling holiday in the country.  While they all seem to audaciously pluck at the heartstrings in some little way…there becomes that little lump in the throat…or the weird little thing that spontaniously happens kind of like a hiccup, but not really, that jumps up when you are caught in the moment.  I suppose it isn’t very manly to admit it, but then hey, I’m happy to have a soft side.  Maybe I can start a movement and call it M.E.S.S. (Men Extressing Soft Side)

 Anyway, there was one of these Hallmark Commercials that reminded me of my own mother’s tendency to save greeting cards. My mom had a tendency to save all greeting cards almost as if the wish they conveyed would be lost or the sender surrupticiously offended, if she discarded them.  So somewhere buried deeply in the plethora of boxes and totes in our garage there must be a card I sent my mom on Mother’s Day.  Although whether or not she saved something that I made in school for the occasion is questionable.  I’m pretty sure I did, but it may take some digging to find. 

 Where am I going with this?  Well yesterday, quite by chance we came across a Mother’s Day placemat that Michael had made for his mom in school.  The timing just seemed perfect to find this just before the appointed day and to have Jeanie there when we did. 

 The year printed on the placemat was 1985, twenty-five years ago, which would have made Michael 6 and in the First Grade.  It was in a tote full of  other items from the past.  Spontaniously saved personal mementos from the formative years and milestones that go into making up a life.  They are the times never to be seen again as your children grow into an adult and give up “Childish Things”.  Maybe parents keep these kinds of things as a reminder of their own youth, or maybe as anchors to feelings cherished.  Whatever the reason they were saved, eventually they will have to be passed on and their future determined by the beneficiary at the time.

 I have so few things from my grandparents that have managed to survive this inevitable purging process.  I suppose it is pretty normal, as we have to shed the debris of the past to make room for the present.  For the things in the tote, we will leave that choice up to the generations to follow so that the tote continues to hold these treasures of our life. 

 Remember, your children may one day cherish these things as we do, so do not be too hasty to get rid of all of them. 

 Love, Dad

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Allah & the 40 Virgins (Revisited)

Posted on May 2, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Good Morning,

 Let’s call this one “Allah & the 40 Virgins Revisited”.  As you may recall, back on January the 18th I wrote a letter with the theme focused on Islam and Suicide Bombers.  Admittedly it was done with a “tongue-in-cheek” approach, while maybe trying to expose some misconceptions.  In doing so, I may have propagated a few others. 

 I received feedback on this letter when it was posted on my blog from an individual we will call Kat, which prompted me to dig a bit deeper into the subject.  Kat is Muslim, always has been Muslim and gave what I consider very constructive feedback to my letter.  In that feedback, Kat suggested that to know more about this subject, I should consider reading the book by Robert Pape titled “Dying to Win”. 

 Dying to Win: The Strategic Logic of Suicide Terrorism arrived shortly after from Amazon.com and I set Plato and the “Republic” aside once again (I sometimes wonder if I will ever finish it) and started into the book.  Now I’m a slow reader and for me reading a book becomes a commitment that can take months.  I rarely will just sit and read, so most of my reading occurs in bed most every night just before I drop off to sleep.  It makes for some pretty interesting dreams, I can assure you.  Anyway sometimes it is only a page or two, which explains why it has taken me three months to read this one.  I know, those of you who read a book a week or even two may not understand that.

 So…I finished the book and in the process believe that with Kat’s and Robert’s help, I am much more understanding of what is involved in suicide terrorism.  So I will start with a few of myths and go from there:

  • “Most Suicide Terrorist are poor and uneducated.”  This is not so as documentation shows most suicide terrorist are from a Working or Middle Cass Society and have at least what we would refer to as a moderate education.  The kind of people we would find in a “Grass Roots Movement” here at home. 
  • “All Suicide Terrorist are Muslim extremists.”  This is also a misnomer as only maybe about 3% are in this category (Al Qaeda) while the rest are motivated by political causes, the number one and most prevalent of which is the “occupation of home soil by a foreign democratic government”.  The U.S. and Great Brittan in the Middle East are a good example and the most valid reason why Al Qaeda was able to get the support it needed to put together the 9-11 attacks and others.
  • “The main motivation for suicide terrorist is martyrdom and going to paradise.”  Nothing could be farther from the truth, but martyrdom is used by Al Qaeda to justify suicide for “Jihad”, which otherwise is completely against the Muslim faith.
  • “We can win The War on Terrorism”.  Sure and I will win the lottery the first time I play.  This is pure political hyperbole, because as long as we are occupying someone else’s homeland and imposing our beliefs and religion on them, there will always be terrorism and suicides for the cause of dispelling the occupying force (us).  It becomes the tool of the minor actor in the conflict.  When you do not have aircraft, tanks and a large military to fight with, you are forced to use whatever means available to make the biggest impact.  This is nothing new.

 While I still have difficulty condoning suicide terrorism as most Muslims as well, I do now understand the motivation for such an act much better and how a society can support through altruism, the players in this drama.  I think that many of my misconceptions have come from my otherwise cloistered and admittedly fortunate circumstances of not having to be involved in this type of conflict.  Of course the media here has helped with the myths as well.  To be faced with having to eradicate or expunge a foreign government from my homeland that threatens to change my chosen way of life or beliefs, would be a difficult situation to be in.

 So, I am now compelled to look at the suicide terrorist more as soldiers who have given all they can to the cause they believed.  Suicide terrorism is effective (that is why it is still done) with very little resource required short of total commitment.  When the attacks occur on the citizens of a country, it becomes, I believe, important for that country to evaluate the motivation behind the attacks and answer the difficult questions as to why it has come to this.      

 Sure there will always be the “Wackos” out there no matter what we do.  That has been going on for millennium.  Maybe we should be a bit more concerned about our citizens in this country and less about imposing our beliefs on others outside our borders.  I think it is essential that we do all we can as a nation to be more self-sufficient and break the foreign oil noose we have selfishly and greedily imposed on ourselves.  Get our butts out of there and then we can let the people of the Middle East sort out their own differences the way they have done before oil became an issue.

 You may want to read this book as I have only scratched the surface.

 Love, Dad

Footnote:

Oh yea and while I’m on this soapbox, let me say that I do not need a Jerusalem to believe in my God.  My God is omni-present, so physical things do not matter.  People are killing each other every day over that piece of soil.  Is a Christian less of a Christian, if they do not live in Jerusalem or “The Holy Land”?  Is a Jew less of a Jew, or a Muslim less of a Muslim if they live in the United States?  I don’t think so.  As for me, cleaving to such things only demonstrates insecurity in ones belief, but that’s just me. 

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Final Gifts and Puzzle Pieces

Posted on April 25, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

Good Morning,Wilma and Me

 There are times and opportunities in your life that you should not miss.  I’m not talking about those obvious times like holidays or birthdays, weddings or baptisms and vacations or graduations.  Sure those are important and are certainly meaningful milestones in our lives.  No… these are opportunities much less obvious and can be easy to miss when mixed in with the fray of our busy lives.  I’m talking about those “Stop and Smell the Roses” times.  In this case when you have an opportunity to say goodbye to an old and dear friend and a final goodbye to someone who has been a part of your life for a large portion of it. 

 Why is it that we can have difficulty saying what we really feel to those we love?  Could it be some sort of fear of rejection buried in our subconscious that makes us hold back?  That moment when we could be left standing alone on the stage of life and have forgotten our lines?  Or is it too “sappy” and you know…real men don’t do that?  I suspect it happens more than we would like to think and well after all, “there is always tomorrow” or “they know I love them anyway, even if I don’t say it as often as I could/should.”  Right?

 Our wisdom, insight and much of our personality comes from our life experiences and few can be as provocative or poignant as the time spent at the bedside of a loved one near the end of their life’s journey.  Given the opportunity taken, it can become a time for sharing without holding back saying those things that so many times are left unsaid in our daily lives.

 Looking back now, and as I experienced with both my mother and my father soon after they had passed from this world, there were things I wished I had said and shared.  To this day, there still arise questions I wish I had asked.  I suppose it’s that old “hindsight is 20/20” thing that comes around, way too often for me anyway, reminding me when I could have used better judgment.  It seems sometimes that it is the “de facto” method I tend to use when learning about life.  I realize it is nearly impossible to think of everything to ask at the time when you have to opportunity, but it would have been good to have a list of sorts.  Like so many things in life, you don’t know, what you don’t know and therefore you also cannot form the questions until the situation presents.  That being said, a good open conversation can be fodder for questions that will come up as insight is gained.    

 As time grows short, these things then become the “final gifts” that one has to share.  Pieces of oneself left behind for others to remember them by.  Pieces of a life, not all of which we will or are ever meant to know, but maybe just enough to understand why they are the way they are.  Pieces of a beautiful and complex life puzzle of which there will always be some missing.  It is up to us to gather as many pieces as we can while the box is still open.

 Love, Dad

Hands Photo: Mine – Wilma Keeney (93) and Me holding hands by her bedside.  “Dear Wilma, when you are ready, may God welcome you with open arms.”

Puzzle Piece Missing Photo: Ken Craig

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Colored Pickled Easter Eggs

Posted on April 4, 2010 by Jon Long Sr

April 4, 2010

Good Morning,

Today is Easter Sunday.  A time for Easter Bunnies, Baby Chicks, Candy Baskets, Easter Bonnets and Lilies and of course, Pickled Easter Eggs.  Well, ok, they are a little different admittedly, but frankly I get a little tired of those plain old colored hard boiled eggs when you can have something the will put a little zip in your palette and color on your tongue.  These are the same recipe as the non-colored ones, except, well they are colored.  Sometimes you just have to step outside of the box… or the basket in this case.

Now picture the jar as our world and the eggs as different religions.  Now that being said…

Being raised Christian… to be precise, “Lutheran” it has always been a significant holiday for me.  I will be the first to admit that I am curious about other forms of religions and what makes them more acceptable to other people than the one I was raised with.  Even if they don’t celebrate Easter the way we do or for at least the same reasons.   I am left to ponder…with so many variations of the belief in a God (supreme entity) in this world, which one… is it that… is the one… true belief?  Ask anyone from the hundreds of other variations and they most likely will tell you “it is theirs” and even explain to you why theirs is “best”, sometimes without even asking.

As anyone coming from the seemingly unlimited variations of Christianity alone, I am given pause to wonder if I was born into the right one.  After all, if I was born in Utah I could have easily been Mormon (LDS), South Carolina possibly Southern Baptist, Mexico likely Catholic, Greece maybe Greek Orthodox. What if I was born in Israel, would I very likely be Jewish or New Delhi, would I now be Hindu or Northern India Sikh and China, possibly a Buddhist or even Pakistan and be a Muslim?  These are just a very few possibilities where my soul could have emerged.  So why Portland Oregon, born to Caucasian, German Lutheran parents… why?  Why there and not Kwekwe, Zimbabwe and sporting a dark pigment to my skin?  Is it just the luck of the draw?  Are there souls just waiting in line to catch a body in that esoteric world where we can only see and understand after we are free of the physical?  Do they have a choice or is it like the D.M.V. where you take a number and take your chances?

I don’t have to look very far to know that fortune or whom ever it was, smiled on me when my number came up and I was plopped down in Portland.  I know my life could be much different right now and for that I am grateful.  Hopefully my kids are too.  Maybe some would say I shouldn’t question things like this, but I do.  What about the others that did emerge in these other places?  Are they that much different than I am.  They also did not choose to be born where they were.  They were raised with the belief system of their parents as well.  Who is right and who is wrong and is there really such a thing when it comes to theology?  Like most humans, I tend to resist change and will probably die clinging to what beliefs were instilled in me at an early age.  Unless of course, I have some grand epiphany that changes all of that.

To my friends of the Christian faithful, I wish you a very Happy Easter in celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.  To my Pagan friends, I wish you a joyous festival for the return of the Springtime Goddess Eastre.  To my Jewish friends I wish a fulfilling Passover.  To my Muslim and Hindu friends, I wish peace.  I don’t think I know of any Buddhists, but peace to you as well.  May we all have chosen the right spiritual path for each of us and with a good degree of luck end up in a happy place.

I was going to have rabbit for Easter dinner, but the grandkids are coming over and they probably would never forgive me for that.  Especially if I told them after the fact, so we are having ham.  I guess it isn’t so bad being a Gentile; we do eat a broader range of food, good or bad it is all in the theology I suppose.

Happy Easter.

Love, Dad

Photo: My eggs

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