December, 1975 and my 9-year old spirit was as low as the Missouri thermometer. But the simplest of gifts

 warmed the heart of not only myself, but my family for decades. Following divorce, my mother had recently

moved to Texas so this was to be our first Christmas apart since my birth.  One of my favorite holiday

activites was shopping with mom to find just the perfect Christmas present for my maternal grandparents,

but of course this year that was not to be.  My dad and I had a difficult relationship, even at that early age,

so though he had legal custody I spent as many weekends, school breaks, and other days with my

grandparents as possible.  It was the thought of not having a gift for my beloved grandma that hurt most of

all.  One weekend shortly before Christmas my grandpa finally coaxed out of me the reason for my somber

mood during this season of joy.  "You know son" he said " we can go buy something for your grandma, but I

have a better idea. Lets go out to the garage."  Out into the cold we went, behind the garage where some scrap

lumber included a pine stump about  a foot long -- the leftover trimmed from this years Christmas tree.  "I think

your grandma sure could use a good candleholder, don't you son" he said "bring that little log into the garage."

Out of the tool chest came a family heirloom in its own right, my great-grandfathers antique hand-cranked

drill.  So, while grandpa gently guided my hands and applied the needed pressure, I cranked away until two

fine-looking holes were made.  "Grandpa, thats great" I exclaimed "but I wanna make it even better!"  In a flash

I was off like St. Nick, sneaking past grandma to the toybox for some red and green crayons. "Just what are you

two up to out there son?" she asked. "Oh, uhhm, nothing grandma" I answered with a mirthful glint in my eye.

Back to the garage, where another thirty minutes of careful work on each end of the pine produced satisfactoy

hues of evergreen and crimson.  The three wisemen from the Orient couldn't have felt more pride, as I marched

my gift into the house and presented it to grandma.  "Oh my!" she softly exclaimed as her tears flowed and

my face beamed like the star of Bethlehem.  Years later I came to realize the tears of joy were not only for the

treasured gift, but for the rekindled Christmas spirit in her grandson.  For the next 38 years that old pine log

covered in crayon and with two discount-store candles stuck in it, was always the centerpiece of my

grandparents holiday decorations.  Invariably any guests who paid the least notice to it were told the story

of its creation in reverent tones.  We lost grandpa in January 2004, but still the gift lived on.  In the summer

of 2008 it was time for grandma to enter a nursing home for good. One of the pesonal posessions she absoutly

insisted on taking was, you guessed it, that old stump.  Now a whole new audience of nursing staff and

residents were treated to the story of its creation.  Grandma passed away this past June, so this

is my first Christmas without either of them in my life. However as I write this on my kitchen table, the

centerpiece of my home decorations, sits an aged candleholder made for next-to-nothing yet more valuable

than all the worlds gold.  So this Christmas as you go from store to store, then home to wrap the gifts,

remember that sometimes the old cliche' is true --that with some gifts it really is the thought that counts.

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The countdown to Christmas was on but Mother was slightly troubled. Some of her children just didn't seem to

be in the holiday spirit. Perhaps they were worried about buying presents and how they could possibly afford

 them. Maybe, just maybe, one or two was feeling blue because of the way mother had been treated over the last

 few years.  Oh sure the children still sang their Yuletide songs. The decorations adorned as usual. The tv

 was still full of commercials and programs meant to tug at both the heartstrings and the pursestrings. But

somehow things just didn't seem like Christmas yet.  It seemed to mother that things were so much more festive

in earlier times -- before the scars and the pain of betrayal by those she held so dear.  Oh well, maybe someday

they would appreciate all her gifts. But as for now what could she possibly do to rekindle the low smoldering

ember of holiday spirit?  "Ah, I've got it!" mother said to no one in particular. And with that exclamation she

blew gently into the breeze and waved her hand as if saluting a long-forgotten friend.  As she did, a cleansing

 white snow began to fall across the land.  "Merry Christmas my children. I love you" Mother Nature said as

she bowed her head, turned, and disappeared into the swirling opaque whiteness.

Tags: Christmas Story

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     Many of us learned in our US History class about "the shot heard round the world" -- the Battle Of Lexington which started the American Revolution.  And one could say that the shot fired by John Wilkes Booth into President Lincoln's skull caused a major alteration to our nations path. But for those of us in modern times perhaps no shots altered history more than those fired in Dallas 46 years ago, the ones that ended the life of President John F. Kennedy.  November 22, 1963 is said to be the day that Baby Boomers lost their innocence, that America's post-World War 2 feeling of invincibility came crashing down.  As an amature historian I feel that it also sent us down paths Kennedy would likely have not followed.  I'll not speak to the controversy over who fired the shots from what location, how many shooters, etc. only to the aftereffects. 

     Let us consider the biggest event of the 1960s for America, the Viet Nam War.  Even in 1962 and early 1963 President Kennedy and his advisors could see the writing on the wall, so to speak, that the South Vietnamese government was totally corrupt and undeserving of America's support.  It was Kennedys plan to gradually reduce US military advisors and supplied equipment, particularly after the 1964 election and let South Vietnam stand or fall on its own merits.  Sadly his successor, Lyndon Johnson,  so feared being labled soft on communism that he would commit billions of US dollars and millions of US warfighters to a cause that was lost from the very beginning. Some 58 thousand names are chisled in black granite on the Washington D.C. mall that otherwise might have lived had not those shots rang out in Dallas.   I theorize that our entire dealings with communism for the remainder of the 20th century also changed on that November day.  Prior to the Cuban Missle Crisis, the USSR considered Kennedy a weak and naive leader. However his resolve during the crisis earned him grudging admiration from Nikita Kruschev.  A small thawing of the Cold War occurred in 1963, leading me to believe that a second presidential term for Kennedy would have seen the US and USSR become, if never friends, then at least nations willing to peacefully co-exist without the threat of instant nuclear annihilation.  Again, LBJ followed a different path.  While Johnson was a man full of bluster and bombast when dealing with underlings and political rivals, in essence he was noting more than a schoolyard bully. He so feared making the wrong decision and leading to nuclear war that he allowed the USSR and China to foster non-nuclear conflicts worldwide, from Viet Nam to the middle east to the Congo. 

       But let us also consider positive changes made by President Johnson that might have been delayed, or indeed never implemented under a Kennedy administration.  While Attorney General Robert Kennedy had done what he felt he could to protect black protestors in the south, the Kennedy administration as a whole felt a slow gradual change in race relations was the safer course to take.  To his great credit President Johnson saw the time for action was long past due and strong-armed the Civil Right Acts and Voting Rights Acts through Congress.  If it had not been for that, then the likelyhood of a young african-American from Chicago becoming our current president would have been greatly diminished.   The war on poverty is another area where one could say a major shift occured due to that terrible day in Dallas.  The poor and the uninsured were America's dirty little secret during post-World War 2 boom. While most lived in luxury in the suburbs with new cars and full cupboards, a shameful percentage of our population, in rural Appalachia and the inner cities particularly, lived a hand-to-mouth existence.  The elderly were also constantly on the precipice of financial ruin from hospitalization and doctors bills.  President Johnson saw this and felt a country as blessed as America could do much more for its citizens, pushing legislation for his Great Society program which brought about among other things medicare, medicaide, food stamps, and Head Start education programs for disadvantaged children.  Oh yes, and it was Johnson's Great Society that provided initial funding that brought us beloved characters like Big Bird, Burt & Ernie, and Oscar through Sesame Street. 

     All of this change, both good and bad, would not have happened in the way we know it had JFK not been gunned down in Dallas.  For like a stone tossed into calm waters the ripple of those shots wash ashore in Americans daily lives still to this day.

Tags: History Blogs

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Tags: Religion Chat Spirituality

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Do you believe in ghosts? I'm not sure I do, but there was a time in my life I witnessed supernatural occurences that are not easily explained.  The radio station where I began my career was a small family-owned and run operation. A gentleman named Sam Burk and his wife literally built the facilites with their own hands.  When Sam Burk died in 1983, his wife, children, and grandchildren were left to carry on.  But not alone, it would seem.  Shortly after his death odd things began to happen -- piles of paper would fall mysteriously to the floor, the sound of a telephone would be heard, yet the indicator light showed no incoming call and no one would be there when the line was answered, Sam's former office would always be much colder than the rest of the building  -- that sort of thing.  By the time I started working there in early 1984 the legend of Sam's ghost was already well-established. At first I was quite the skeptic, until my first few overnight dj shifts when I was alone in the building and I too bore witness to certain oddities.  Several nights I swore I heard a voice, or voices, in the stations front office/lobby yet by the time I made it there from the dj studio there was no one around, nor had been as the front door was still firmly locked. And I too experienced the 'mystery phone' events others had.  A good friend and fellow dj had an even more bizarre experience. One early Sunday morning around 3 a.m.  he used the photocopier in a small closet off the main office. Finishing his task, he turned the copier off, light in the closet off, and closed the door too the closet.  About 90 minutes later he happened to pass thru the office area for a coffee refill to find the closet door open, light on, and copier on -- and yet again the building was locked up tight as Fort Knox, so no one else had been there to change things -- at least not anyone human.  When I arrived at 6 a.m. to relieve him my friend Dave was still freaked out by the occurence and white as a sheet.  A few months later I was by myself, working overnight babysitting a satellite broadcast. Seizing the opportunity to catch up on my college studies, I sat at one of the office desks with my textbooks, a typewriter,  and a bottle of soda.  Periodically I'd have to stop and go into the nearby dj studio to play local commercials during the satellite show.  Upon coming back just two minutes later, I found the textbook I was using closed, the electric typewriter now turned off, and my soda bottle had moved from one corner of the desk to the other.  Again, no one else was in the building at the time.  These supernatural events continued to happen to me and others until the summer of 1985. It was at that time that Sam's wife sold the radio station to different owners -- and you guessed it, the strange occurances ceased.  Sam's grandson, another good friend and fellow dj, swore it was his grandpa's spirit still wandering around the building making sure things were as they should be. Once his wife sold the business, his work done, Sam's ghost was free to move on to a different plane of existence.  Like I said, I'm not sure I really believe in ghosts, but there are just some things in this world you can't explain.  If nothing else, it gave new meaning to the broadcasting term of having "dead air".  

Tags: Ghosts Holidays

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     June 6, 1944 -- a date many of us had drilled into our minds in history class -- D-Day. However, there is another date two years and two days prior, June 4, 1942, that was just as instrumental in preserving world freedom as was the Allied invasion to liberate occupied France. Sadly the Battle Of Midway is oft overlooked.  Perhaps its because of the remoteness of the battle location -- vast areas of Pacific ocean interrupted only by the small island atoll of Midway.  There was no bloody Omaha beach, Point Du Hoc, or heroic paratroopers to commemorate with plaques and monuments -- but heroes were in no short supply at the Battle Of Midway.

     Since the devastating sneak attack at Pearl Harbor by the Japanese Navy on December 7, 1941,  America and her allies had met with one heartbreaking defeat after another in the Pacific theater.  Guam, Wake Island, Singapore, Hong Kong, the Phillipines -- all had fallen under the assault of the Rising Sun empire.  But now, barely six months after the 'day of infamy', it was time for payback.  Thanks to the help of Commander Rochefort (forgotten hero #1)  and his team of codebreakers, US Admiral Chester Nimitz (forgotten hero #2) had a fair idea beforehand of the Japanese intentions to invade Midway Island.  Japans plan served two purposes 1) provide a base for long-range bombers to further attack the Hawaiian Islands 2) draw the hard-pressed survivors of the US Navy into a final climactic battle -- specifically the still-dangerous US aircraft carriers.   With the US Navy defeated, the Japanese could occupy Hawaii, and conceivably invade the American west coast itself.  

    If it were a poker game, it could be said that the US Navy went 'all in' with just three of a kind.  The three being the USS Enterprise, USS Hornet, and USS Yorktown, our only surviving aircraft carriers in the Pacific.  However, since we were reading the Japanese Navys secret messages, Admiral Nimitz was much like a riverboat gambler playing with a marked deck.   That the USS Yorktown was available for the epic clash is something of a miracle in itself.  Yorktown had been badly damaged three weeks before at the Battle Of Coral Sea. However repair crews at Pearl Harbor (forgotten heroes #3)  were able to complete a job that would normally take up to three months in just 72 hours.  

      June 4, 1942 saw more heroes than one can easily count -- from the Marine fighter pilots who rose from Midway in obsolete planes to face the fearsome Japanese Zero, to young Navy torpedo bomber pilots like Ensign George Gay who also flew their obsolete planes, without protective fighter plane cover, and flung them at the Japanese Navy in the bravest action since the fabled Charge Of The Light Brigade.  But perhaps no men made a bigger difference than Commanders Wade McClusky and Max Leslie (forgotten heroes #4 and #5). Sensing that the Japanese fleet had moved from their reported position, they altered course with the squadrons of dive bombers under their command, going on gut instinct. To Americas, and the free worlds, great fortune they found the Japanese aircraft carriers in an extremely vulnerable position with their decks full of airplanes, fuel hoses, and bombs.  Within a brief five minutes the Japanese ships had been turned into flaming sinking hulks, and the course of the Pacific war changed forever.  There would be more hard-fought days ahead in places with strange names like Guadalcanal, Tarawa, and Iwo Jima, but America was never again seriously threatend with ultimate defeat.  As Winston Churchill once said 'this is not the end, nor the beginning of the end, but the end of the beginning' -- all because of a few forgotten heroes.

Tags: History Military Midway

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I experienced a moment of time travel this morning, June 4th. Suddenly I was no longer age 43 and in my own home -- I was a six-year old lying on my grandparents living room floor staring in rapt fascination at a wonderful tv show called Kung Fu.  Actor David Carradine was found dead in a Bangkok,Thailand hotel room today, age 72 , presumed to be a victim of suicide by hanging.  How could that be, my saddend mind asked? A man of such rich talent, someone who as the lead charachter Kwai Chan Caine in Kung Fu had defeated evil time and again, now felled by his own hand and mind?

     From the openning credits of the first episode of Kung Fu, David trudging through the scorching desert sands, I was hooked -- as were millions of other viewers.  Kung Fu, along with the movies of another idol, Bruce Lee, led me into a brief flirtation with the martial arts -- much to the chagrin and detriment of an older cousin.  Danny was two years older than me, much larger,  and had always been something of a bully.  Well on a family reunion-camping trip in the spring of '73 I'd finally had enough.  Danny as usual was pestering me unmercifully. Having no formal training, I somehow summoned knowledge from Kung Fu episodes and laid a perfect flying kick to his chest followed by a chop that bloodied his nose -- complete with warcry...Hiiiiii-yaaah!  I don't think it was the actual physical pain that stunned my tormentor so much as it was the psychological blow.  He never again bothered me, for like Kwai Chang Cain, I had stood up for what was right.

     But David Carradine was much more than a one-role star. Following Kung Fu he had critically acclaimed roles in Death Race 2000, and a remarkable 1976 performance as folk singer Woody Guthrie in the biopic Bound For Glory.  I was thrilled to see him along with younger brother Keith Carradine in one of my all-time favorite westerns, The Long Riders.  In the 1980's Carradine protrayed a deliciously evil abusive husband and slave-owner in the epic tv mini-series North & South.   And of course his title roll in Kill Bill part 1 and 2 are not to be forgotten. 

     I guess that what it boils down to is that beyond the words on a script, underneath the makup and movie props, our idols are only mortal, no matter how much we wished otherwise.  So THANK YOU, David Carradine for inspiring this shy six-year old.  Farewell, Grasshopper, and God bless.

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"Its just a bump on the head"...."Wow, you really got your bell rung". How many times have we heard that in our lives, or perhaps said it to someone else?  But the death of actress Natasia Richadson on March 18th proves once again that even the most seemingly-minor accidents can have tragic outcomes.  She had been skiing over the weekend, took a spill and hit her head. At first she seemed unharmed, but within a few hours began exhibiting classic early signs of concussion.  However at that time no one knew just how severe.   Now her husband, actor Liam Neeson, is left a widower and two young sons motherless.   And this is far from an extraordinary circumstance. It could have been any of us on that ski slope. Or playing in the church softball league. Or simply driving to work.  There is no such thing as a 'minor' brain injury.  I learned this first-hand in 1992.  I was involved in a relatively minor multi-car accident while waiting at a traffic light.  At first I appeared unharmed, but within the hour I was slurring my speech and wandering aimlessly while dealing with an excruciating headache.  Diagnosis: severe closed-head injury -- a major concussion.  Thankfully prompt medical attention limited the swelling and much permanent damage, but still it was five weeks of hospitalization and in-patient rehabilitation, followed by years of lingering after-effects.  I share this not for my own 'pity party', but to serve as testimony that what appears to be a small incident can prove life-altering.  I urge you to take the moment to learn the warning signs of concussion. Please, if its your child, spouse, friend, or other loved one -- or yourself -- who suffers a blow to the head , watch for these signs and get prompt medical attention. No one likes an extra ER bill.  But I'm sure Ms. Richardsons family would give every penny they own to turn back times hands and perhaps save her life.   'Toughing out' a whack on the noggin' isn't being tough....its being stupid.

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Dear friends,

I've found myself in dire trouble recently, both legally & spiritually, and in desperate need of your prayer.  Its all because I was looking for Jesus.  Now Jesus is the name of our family cat, as you might recall.  Well last month I came home from work to find my daughter crying on the front steps.  "Aww honey, whats wrong" I asked. "It's Jesus" she sobbed "I can't find him anywhere."  "Well pumpkin it can't be that bad. I'm sure Jesus is around here somewhere. We just can't see him is all" I said in reassurance.  "NO, Daddy! I've been hollerin for him all afternoon -- 'here Jesus, Jesus come home. I even put ut a dish of his favorite food.  Daddy do something" my 8-year old begged. 

      So...grabbing a photo of me, my daughter and Jesus taken earlier I set out on foot through the neighborhood looking for Jesus.  The first person I asked "have you seen Jesus" just laughed and walked away. The next looked at me as if I were deranged.  Finally the paperboy said he thought he'd seen Jesus up in a tree two blocks over. I hurried over to the big Douglas fir, and although I did hear a noise, Jesus was nowhere to be seen.   Knocking on the homeowners door, I asked if e had a ladder I could borrow.  "What seems to be the problem friend" he inquired. "I think Jesus is stuck in a tree in your front yard" I told him.  "Uhh, I don't think so pal, we're Jewish" Mister Goldstein replied. "But please! If I can't use your ladder won't you at least call the fire department -- don't they take care of this sort of thing?" I asked.  "Shouldn't it be the Pope or someone instead?" Goldsein chuckled.  "Look" I said, growing angry "if you don't help me get Jesus out of that tree I'll cut it down!" Slam went the door in my face. Returning to the tree, a minute later I heard approaching sirens. At last! Help was on the way. I'd have Jesus back home in time to watch the evening news.  However, instead of a shiny red firetruck coming to my rescue, it was two of our cities finest in a squad car. "All right buddy, whats all this about cutting a guys tree down" they asked. "Officers, I'm so glad you're here. I've got to get Jesus down from this tree so my litte girl will stop crying" I explained.  "So...you think Jesus is up there in the tree?" one asked while winking at his partner.  "Uhh just how many times have you seen Jesus" the second cop inquired.  "Hundreds of times" I replied "every day, in fact, since we brought him home from the pet store.  Just this morning as I was leaving for work he curled around my leg then scampered over to the corner and started licking his coat."  The next thing I knew I was in the back of a patrol car, being taken in for something called a 96-hour psych evaluation as well as disturbing the peace and threatening assault on an elderly pine.

      Having my day in court, at last I caught a break from a sympatheric judge.  "Your honor, I was just trying to help my little girl find Jesus. I never meant to offend anyone" I explained.  "Son" the old judge replied "I wish there were more parents like you in the world today. We need Jesus in every household. Case dismissed."  Unfortunately a court observer that day was a card-carrying member of the ACLU. Next thing I know all the cable news services have satellite trucks parked in my yard and I can't open the door without a blitzkreig of cameras and microphones thrust in my face. Three famus televangelist even showed up, asking to have special prayer with the man who tried to save Jesus from a tree. I guess I'm luckier than the poor judge, however, who now faces remoal from th bench and disbarment for daring to mention Jesus in the courtroom.  Well, my friend I must close for now.....oh, and what about Jesus? Well it turns out he was never lost and never in the tree.  He was hiding under the porch after being chased by our neighbors dog....Moses. But thats another story.  I guess the moral of this adventure is whenever you feel you've lost Jesus, its best not to go looking for him. He's always closer than you think. 

Tags: Humor

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