Sunday, December 28, 2014

Unexpected lessons...

“And Moses was content to dwell with the man:
and he gave Moses Zipporah his daughter.”
- Exodus 2:21, Bible


He was big and smart. 

When he knocked her to the ground, he just walked away 10 feet or so and waited.   She got up a little unsteady on her feet; he walked over and knocked her down again. 

The setting…
Nearly 30 years of my life centered around a small acre of land on highway 24 West in the rural community of Moberly, Missouri.  I came to a small Bible teaching community in 1975, in the second year of my doctoral program at the University of Missouri.  The school program would take two or three years, and I had found a place where I could do a little scripture studying at the same time.  After the war and a few years of school, I was restless and it seemed like a good fit.  While I didn’t know it at the time, those two or three years turned into three decades!

In the early years, while in school, I lived in a trailer on the church property with a couple of other fellows.  I am not sure I have either the time, or the hard drive space to recount the many adventures and stories that occured in those thirty years, but on this Christmas day I am reminded of Moses and Zipporah...not Moses and Zipporah of the Old Testament scriptures, but Moses and Zipporah the dogs!

Oh the weather out side is frightful...
It was winter in Missouri…a winter that had brought a lot of snow.  Not that powdery kind that comes from freezing temperatures high in the atmosphere…the kind that dusts the ski slopes of the Colorado Rockies.  Rather the wet heavy kind that happens when temperatures in the clouds are at or just above freezing. 

This kind of snow creates a ‘…deafening silence…’ found in soundproof rooms – you know the kind.  It falls fast and in big flakes…the kind that comes on the heels of a few mild winter days…the that kind snarls traffic in cities and towns…the kind that packs down and makes the county and state roads deadly…the kind that overcomes the best battle plans of the salt and gravel trucks…the kind that replaces the snow as fast as a plow can clear it, AND the kind that lends itself to wonderful snowmen, angels in the snow, and enthusiastic snowball fights.  Yes sir, the kind that brings out the child in all but the grumpiest of folk who always see the glass half empty!

My friend Moses…
It was winter and a time of year that Moses seemed to love.  While he officially belonged to David, he was for all practical purposes the ‘church dog.’  He was a large German shepherd weighing in somewhere north of 85 pounds (38k).  He looked big under normal circumstances, but in moments of alarm, when his body hair stood on end – he looked enormous and it was breath taking!

The church property sat right on the highway.  It was the kind of road farmers and others used to get to town and back…the kind of road that claimed the lives of countless cats and dogs finding themselves unwisely crossing in search of a mouse or other small animal living in the surrounding woods.  For some reason Moses had learned to look both ways…he understood death lurked on that ribbon of asphalt running beside the trailer where he lived, and he had a healthy respect for it.

In those early years Moses was a fixture.  While his real home was a pen beside the trailer, he was allowed inside, and there were many nights when he stayed with me in that trailer.

Stray animals were not unusual…
Over the years a lot of stray dogs and cats made their way on to the church property – many stayed until the highway or greener pastures either ended their lives or caused them to move on.  Moses pretty much put up with them.  Putting up meant…if they didn’t bother him, he wouldn’t bother them.  He had seen a lot in his years and seemed to understand détente was the best policy.

During the fall of this year, Zipporah arrived at church.  In the scriptures Zipporah was a Midianitish woman that Moses married.  In Moberly, Missouri she was simply a dog!

By the time she arrived, Moses was a little old to consider her, well in the politest of terms, mating material.  She was skittish and very timid.  In spite of this, Moses tried to engage her.  Yet, almost every time he came near, she would assume a submissive posture and cower.

Old dogs teaching new tricks…
The trailer in which I lived was on the Eastern edge of, and parallel to, the parking lot.  This morning because of the snow, there were no cars other than those parked the night before.  I had wakened and was in the process of trying to determine whether I would head over to the church for coffee.  I glanced out the window to see how much snow had fallen and saw Moses and Zipporah standing in the center of the car park.

Moses walked over to her, and as she assumed the position, he knocked her down.  He then walked away and stood still.  When she got up a little unsteadily to her feet; he walked over and knocked her down again.  This happened three of four times.

For some reason, Zipporah seemed to want to make peace.  With head down, she cautiously made her way to Moses and sniffed at him.  As her nose touched his side, he collapsed to the ground.  This startled her and she jumped back.  

Moses got to his feet and trotted away another 10 feet or so and stood still…Zipporah made her way uneasily toward him again.  As before, when she sniffed at him and as her nose touched his coat, he fell to the ground.

This cycle repeated itself several times until Zipporah seemed to ‘get it.’  She realized this was a game, and within the 15 minutes or so as I watched this amazing event, she was running at Moses, trying to knock him down!  The next few minutes, the dogs played in the snow – the youngster and the old man – as though they were both pups.  Moses quit first…she flat wore him out!

I don’t know how animals think, or how they process information, but it is my sense Moses wished he had never taught that dog to play.  For in the few remaining months/years of his life Zipporah was unrelenting in her attention for him.  She would tug at him trying to get him to play with her.  From her perspective, I suppose it was simply unbridled affection…

Moses? Had he known Greek mythology, he might have felt he opened Pandora’s box!  He had produced a creature that gave him no peace.  From time to time he would have an expression in his eyes that said, “What have I created!”  And yet, I am certain, given the opportunity, he would have done it all again.  For me, watching that old dog teaching a life lesson to Zipporah was one of the more unexpected pleasures of my life.

The Christmas season, in spite of all the stresses that come along with it, is a time to be grateful for the health that we have and the life we have been given…a time to be gentle with one another and remember those we love…a time to appreciate the circumstances in our lives that have touched us in meaningful ways…big and small. 

I am grateful for my family, and the people from all over this world God has brought into and enriched my life…there is little doubt, however, in the tapestry of my experiences and corner of my heart, where the brush strokes are subtle and barely noticeable to the casual observer…Moses gently resides.

- ted

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Who is the Lucky One?

 But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular, 
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified, 
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular, 
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?  
- TS Eliot ‘The naming of Cats’


We call her Leah because she was lucky!


You see in the Old Testament, there were a couple of sisters…Leah and Rachel.  Jacob was a fellow who loved Rachel, so he made a deal with Laban, her father, for her hand.  

The deal? He would work seven years for Laban and in return get Rachel for his wife  - now that is love! 

The day finally came and the marriage occurred, unfortunately for Jacob, when he awoke in the morning he found it was Leah by his side, NOT Rachel who he loved.  When confronting Laban, he was told that Leah was the older sister and needed a husband.  

Jacob ended up working another seven years for Rachel, but the point here is that Leah was lucky.  She was lucky to get a husband, lucky to have children, and by her luck, she became part of the matriarchy of the house of Israel.

I mentioned "We call her Leah, because she was lucky!"  This is because we have a Leah in our household too - that would be Leah the cat.  She is lucky because she found us, or rather we found her.  

Her mother was a female of questionable character and had a somewhat loose living arrangement with our next-door neighbors.  The mother was an outdoorser, a mouser with a generalized independent flair both in character and apparently her occasional choice in male cats, meaning in the words of Crosby, Nash, Stills and Young, “If you can’t be with the one you love…” well, you know the rest – okay, if you are under the age of 50 the line ends, “…love the one you’re with.” 
Leah was so tiny, when we got her; she fit in the palm of my hand – so tiny that she could hide either in or behind my shoes.  A calico, and as is often the case in kittens, her eyes were disproportionately large for her face and body.  This is almost 15 years ago by now, and she has grown to her full nine pounds.  
Three cats reside in our home, but there is only one who attends much to me.  That would be Leah.  Early in the mornings, she wakes me slipping into bed and climbing on board.  

There she sits until I roll over on to my back, dancing like one of those loggers who stay atop a spinning log in the water.  Once I have gotten to my back, she settles in with a gentle purr.

This, of course in her world, is simply foreplay for breakfast, you know – the tease.  She has a clock in her head that says, “Okay that’s enough.  Now that I have your loving attention – let’s eat!”  

Some people say a person has only so many heartbeats in their lifetime.  Leah seems to have a certain allotment of purring breaths before it’s time to woo me to get her breakfast. 

If I feed her and then head back to bed for a few moments – an infrequent event – she will return to my chest, lie down and purr some more, with a satisfied and relaxed posture that says, 
“Now isn’t this better on a full stomach?”

There is something primal and exceedingly satisfying about lying tummy-to-tummy, chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart and breath-to-breath in the darkened and early morning hours.  There is something comforting about lying there with a creature in whom there is no malice.  There is something energizing about sharing a moment without words that satisfies both creatures in ways they find individual comfort.

This morning was one of those times.  As we quietly lay tummy to tummy – me reading, she digesting and purring – we found a moment of contentment that these words fail to adequately express, and I was taken by the warmest and gentlest of thoughts that I was the ‘lucky one.’

- ted

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Subways in Berlin

“The robbed that smiles, steals
something from the thief."
Shakespeare - Othello

Sometimes you get a win when you didn’t even know you were in the game.

She was about five years old holding her mother’s hand when they got on board.

The setup…
The subway car had been full when I climbed on ten stops earlier…full of commuters heading home for the day. I was in Europe for a conference and had a little time to see the city. It was Berlin and I had just finished 10 hours of visiting museums and getting around the city to find them…I was really tired – the kind where you have reached the edge of your brain’s capacity to absorb another piece of information and your 64 year old body is asking, “What were you thinking!?” You know what I mean.

I hopped on the subway at Mehringdamm station - well, not exactly ‘hopped’ – for the 18-station trip to my hotel near the Rohrdamn station. I had taken a seat facing backward across from a young man listening to his iPod, completely oblivious to me or anyone else – his head moved to a beat only he could hear. You have no doubt heard the saying attributed to Friedrich Nietzsche: “…those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” This would describe him exactly…it was nice to see this young man in doing his own thing and in his own world.

As the people thinned out, a bench facing forward opened up across the Isle; I slipped over and settled in with a little more legroom. All four seats (two forward and two backward) were open except for the place I had taken by the window.

The event…
The little girl got on at Wilmersdorfer with her mother who was pushing her to sit facing backward, directly across from me. It was a seat by the door and would be an easy ‘on’ and ‘off.’ I’m a pretty big fellow, and the girl looked a little unsure about sitting across from me, but was obedient in the rush and sat down. She was tiny, as most five year olds are, cute with a knee length jumper and full length, brightly colored stockings.

I looked over and noticed she was staring at me. I caught her eye, and she did what most children do when caught glancing at a stranger, she looked quickly down. We rode together for 3 stops to Mierendorflpl with four stops left for me, when I noticed she was carrying a small plastic bag in her right hand. Through the plastic, I saw a 5”x7” (15x18cm) portrait ‘head shot’ of the little girl. As she nervously turned the plastic back and forth, I could see another picture of several children posing for the camera – a class picture from her school.

The train was just pulling into the station when I pointed to the picture and then to her, raising my eyebrows and smiling. This is, by the way, my international sign language for short messages with children. It was all I had…I don’t speak German! She nodded, grinned brightly...a warmth that could have lit the afternoon sun with a full ‘tooth showing’ smile – we connected!

The payoff…
As she and her mother got off the train, I wondered with a little anticipation…had the magic between us worked? She trotted off toward the exit holding her mother’s hand, and then it happened…she turned to see if I was watching – we connected again – her smile widened and she waved the little hand that was holding
the pictures of she and her classmates – A WIN!!

In that moment, all the tiredness of the day slipped away. The unspoken and knowing connection between two human beings had occurred in one of the great languages of the soul…the open smile. It did not require a hard earned vocabulary, hours of repetitive practice, nor finding a place for subtle expression in written or spoken thought – No! The only elements necessary for this to happen were proximity (being near one another) and a willing heart. The scriptures says, “…if first there be a willing mind…” All things are possible and in that moment the universe was working well.

On that day, in that city, sitting exhausted on that subway car, I was once again reminded of how much we all are alike…young-old, tall-short, black-white-yellow-red…we are connected by the fabric of humanity, and when that connection happens, WE KNOW this is the way God intended for life to be for all of us, if we just take the
time to listen and be refreshed.


The smile from that little girl, was more rewarding in the moment, than all the reading, listening and watching I have done in my life, to try and understand what any of this life means. That little girl, in that moment, reminded me that we can share with each other the most profound of things, in the lightening briefness when two souls touch through the magic of a shared smile.

- ted

Sunday, December 7, 2014

No one thinks...

“For what [is] your life? It is even a
vapour, that appeareth for a little
time, and then vanisheth away”
James 4:14 – the Bible

“Jesus Christ, this kid is dying!’  Not the words a person is interested in hearing, particularly if they happen to be ‘the kid.’

It was two AM in Vung Tau, the Republic of Vietnam – 1969.  I was working the night shift alone as a radar air traffic controller and napping in our small portable radar unit.  The radios were on, in case an aircraft called in. 

Unbeknownst to me a small centipede had crawled up under my tee shirt.  Unfortunately, it was poisonous and bit the inside of my arm while I slept.  I didn’t realize it was there, but the bite woke me up.  My left arm was numb as often happens when you lie on your side, so I shook it out.  The numbness did not go away and I began to feel sick.   

A call into base operations sent a couple of my co-workers to pick me up and take me to the medical facility – a large sectioned off tent.  By time I arrived, the little creature still under my shirt had bitten me twice more.  Over the next twenty minutes or so, lying on an observation cot, my breathing became a little shallower and pupils began to constrict.  The medics decided to wake the on call doc, who felt I should be given an injection of epinephrine (adrenaline) used for situations of developing shock. 

The problem? He gave me more than he should have.  Within a breath, I was in full body convulsions.  The doctor dropped the syringe and exclaimed those disconcerting words, “Jesus Christ, this kid is dying!”  Everything seemed paradoxically to go into slow motion.  He ordered the two guys who had brought me in to hold down my legs, one of the medics to lie across my chest, and the second medic to get a spring syringe of atropine.  He injected the medication into my stomach, and I slowly began to calm down. 

All of this took place in seconds, but I clearly remember thinking as if it were yesterday, “Well, what a non-heroic way to die…I wonder what mom and dad will think…Damn, I didn’t get to say good-bye or tell them how much I really loved them.”  A centipede just didn’t seem to be very meaningful way to exit planet earth – and so far from home.  As it turns out, I was in the hospital for several days with a splitting headache, and survived.
The point of this story is not the preceding event, as attention getting as it was, but rather the impact that it had on the rest of my life.  I realized two things from this unexpected pebble dropped into the liquid chemistry of my mind:

    One – you can put things in your body over which you have no control – 
               so be very careful about that, and
    Two – life is extremely fragile and can be snatched away in no 
                time...completely unpredictably.

It is the second thing I learned that had the biggest effect.  When you are young, and particularly when you are a young man in this culture, there is a sense of invulnerability – an almost inherent underlying belief you are indestructible.  This event changed that perception in an instant, forever altering my view of life, and as it has played out, the way I interact with others.

Nobody getting up in the morning, with the exception of the condemned or terminally ill, thinks this will be their last day; no child going to school in the morning thinks someone will come into their classroom and take their life before the morning ends; no one getting into their car to head home thinks their life will end within the hour; no person heading to a grocery store to do a little shopping and maybe visit their representative thinks their life will end in the next few minutes or seconds; no one thinks they will never see their mother or father or sister or brother or son or daughter again as the day begins – because, well “…no one thinks the unthinkable….”

Yet this is the uncontrollable nature and randomness of life.  There are NO GUARANTEES. 

This brush with mortality led to a sea change in the way I looked at life and the lives of those around me.  It led to a life-long habit of taking small moments to thank people for their service – colleagues, secretaries, the janitor, the waitress, friends, and my family. 

The experienced has led to a life-long habit of looking for ways to compliment people on their work, no matter what their job.  It led to a life-long habit of encouraging people in moments of personal struggle.  It led to a life-long habit of thanking people for having made a difference in my life, and led to a life long habit of telling people I love that I love and admire them.

The last item is not always easily said nor is it easily understood.  This is where words so often do not work well.  Once you have told someone you love them, the meaning is often left to the understanding of the ‘hearer,’ rather than that of the ‘sayer.’  If it is not clear, it can lead to misunderstanding….and surely there are times when I have not had the words to express ‘the understanding.’  The rewards, however, usually, outweigh the risks. 


Some people say this falls under the heading of doing, “…random acts of kindness…” I reject the former and embrace the latter...these acts should never be random, but deliberate ‘kindnesses’ with gratitude, because “…no one thinks the unthinkable…”

- ted

Sunday, November 30, 2014

Love, roller coasters and little girls...

“No one is smart enough to figure out
anything worthwhile from scratch.”
- Pinker, S.  The Better Angels of our Nature

Susie Shamkunas (Sham-Koo-nis)…now there is a name, and there was a girl.  Little doubt, I was smitten!

Memory is that illusive narrator of history with a kind of plasticity.  You know, elastic things return to their original shape (rubber bands for example), plastic changes DO NOT return to their original shape (pie crust from a ball of dough).  Once changed, they appear to have always been that way.  Yeah, memory may or may not have anything to do with the truth. 

Truth – what the heck is the truth?

But then there was Susie Shamkunas, at the age of six, the love of my life.  In my less mature years (prior to six), I thought girls were…hmmm…in the nicely honed vocabulary of my youth  - YUCKIE!  In fact, I even resented them in the free floating anxiety best expressed by having been isolated to my own bedroom, while my sisters got to share.  I didn’t understand and thought it to be completely unfair! 

Girls, as far as I could tell, they were a real nuisance.

The page turned…
But then something changed, something brand new, something I had even less understanding about – I ‘saw’ Susie.  It wasn’t that I had not seen her before, after all, we were in Sunday school together.

I don’t even know when this actually happened, but one day I looked at her and all kinds of things began to happen: unsettled tummy, short breath, heart beat faster, no words to speak, damp hands and furtive glances to see if there were some place to hide! 

Yep, I think I was in love!  She had blond curly hair, wore frilly dresses, had brown eyes, and I don’t know…it was like I had been lightening struck.

One day, when my mother was looking after her at our house – right at the beginning of the Mickey Mouse Club on TV – I kissed her!  Okay, I had been emboldened by Annette Funicello, whose face had just popped up on the screen announcing herself: “Annette!” 

I had practiced kissing Annette on a couple of occasions when she announced herself, so I did have experience.

I mumbled something like, “I love you and now you are my girlfriend.”

She smiled and giggled like we had just shared a secret, and I can’t remember one other thing about the girl from that day forward!  The event with Susie is memorable to me, simply because…well, simply because of the feelings and the terror of the first kiss!! 

I loved my mother and dad, but would characterize that as a feeling of consistency and safety.  I know I learned to love my sisters, I suppose because they were daily constants in the routine of my life, but I can say this with certain authority – I NEVER felt anything with my family like I felt with that cutie pie who first stole my heart – Susie Shamkunas!

Yeah, but what does it mean?
Love!  That set of feelings that have yet to be defined despite the untold volumes of poetry, stories, music and film on the subject – all of which reflect the most common and primal sensations every single one of us has had.  Importantly, when read, heard or seen, some ageless resonance is touched within us and we know of a surety we have at least basked in the echoed shadow of the ‘vérité obscure’ (obscure truth).

So what is this thing called love.  One is tempted to express, “I don’t exactly know what it is, but I know it when I see [feel] it!”

Okay, to be fair, there are dictionary definitions categorizing the attraction we, as humans have for one another: affection, friendship, romance, eros and unconditional love.  I suppose I can identify with these words in terms of the way we interact with one another, and I further suppose, for this discussion, I’m talking about eros…I guess.

Giving it a whirl…
I have given this a fair amount of thought in trying to understand the context of my life experience.  I mean, when does the ‘I like you’ slip over the cliff to ‘I love you’? 

“Cliff” is a good metaphor, best reflected in the expression “…falling in love…” Yeah, that’s the feeling isn’t it – falling!  Like the first drop on one of those huge rollercoasters. 

If you are a kindred spirit that likes coasters, close your eyes and imagine the excitement of heading up the first hill, the fearful anticipation of the approaching uncontrolled feelings, the exhilaration as the car passes the crest and the total cognitive ‘short circuitry’ of the drop! 

No thought…no deliberation…no sense of anything but the astonishing stomach turning of the drop!  Yeah, that’s what I think love is…or at least how it seems to start.

The thing is, everything we know comes into our minds single file, and every way we communicate with others, comes out of us single file…but man, when all that stuff is ‘in the mixer,’ Katy bar the door!  When the accumulated paraphernalia floating around in our brains is sparked by feelings of love – all bets are off!  Call the it Kismet, pheromones, serendipity, fate, the weather, the stars…call it whatever you want, but when it is lit ‘things’ happen!

Empires built, novels written, songs sung, flights to the moon and the stars, an explosion of creativity – a ‘no holds barred’ sensation overcomes us and we feel there is NOTHING we cannot do!

The ‘language of love,’ usually in the context of the delicate – sometimes not so delicate – dance that leads to a carnally conclusive act, is often discussed as though sexual gratification were the driving force toward the end game whispered by our genetic code for the survival of the species.  Yeah, maybe…

All I know is that when it gets going – Mazel Tov!!  (Congratulations and Good luck!!)

As the management of those initial feelings, Plato calls the ‘charioteer’ of our nature, emerge…the wilder horse is reined in by the driver (human soul), and once happening, our widely swinging feelings calm (the more noble horse taking control) and our lives proceed forward.

There is more…
The thing is, we are not machines.  The passion of love that we feel in the beginning doesn’t (or shouldn’t) go away and can emerge at any time in our lives.  In maturity, it may become more guarded and ‘other focused’ through the accomplishment of tasks/goals/challenges life brings us, but the appetite of the wild horse lying just under the surface continues to inform the things we do and decisions we make.

This may be a revelation to those of you who are young, but while planetary ‘time in service’ may diminish many things, it does NOT lessen feelings of passion.

Take away…
So what is my take away from this?  I have come to believe the passion of love is like beautiful music the lyrics for which we have not yet, as a species, come to truly understand…or at least in a succinct, clear, articulated way.

I think love is a primal communication that God, the universal creative intelligence, has placed in us as a homing mechanism to draw us toward one another yes, but more importantly, closer toward Him. 

Love has no time…no distance…no culture…no circumstance…no geography defining its existence.  It may begin with proximity, but from the ‘lighting of the fuse,’ it has a life of its own.

You don’t believe this?  Take a moment to think about someone you love(-ed) with whom you no longer have contact, or who may have passed on from this life…take a moment and think of them…what do you feel? 

Yeah, I thought so.


I can tell you this…when Susie Shamkunas came to mind, it wasn’t some distant thought of ‘Paradise Lost,’ it was all the richness, sincerity and feelings a little boy of six could muster…

- ted