#48 – Dick Bernard: the 4th of July

For several years now, we’ve gone to the annual 4th of July Parade in nearby Afton MN.  Afton is a tiny place on the St. Croix River, part of Minnesota’s eastern border, and mostly known for its big Marina and as  an artsy place.  Yesterday we were there.
On the 4th of July Aftons population increases dramatically for the noon-time Parade, which is the only one I know of which goes to the end of Main Street, then doubles back.  The spectators can thus see the parade twice; the participants in the Parade can actually “watch” it themselves as the units return on the other side of the street.
The latter fact would have been approved by my Grandpa Bernard who had a 1901 Oldsmobile (it’s still a working automobile in California), and was often asked to drive it in the local July 4th parade in his town of Grafton ND.  He rarely took the bait for this since, he would complain, “I can’t watch the parade, only the back-side of the unit in front of me“.  Those days – he died in 1957 – there weren’t means of recording the parades for replay back home on cable television or otherwise.  You saw it in real time, or you missed it. 

Grandpa Bernard (in the suit) in his 1901 Oldsmobile, Grafton ND July 4 parade, sometime in late 1940s or early 1950s

Grandpa Bernard (in the suit) in his 1901 Oldsmobile, Grafton ND July 4 parade, sometime in late 1940s or early 1950s


I have sometimes walked in parades, usually for political candidates, so I understand Grandpa’s complaint. 
I like parades.
Yesterday’s, though, for some reason seemed a bit flatter than usual.  There were fewer units and less enthusiasm. 
As is usual, the parade was headed by a couple of old (my age) military veterans carrying the U.S. flag.  People, including myself, stood, doffed their hats, and applauded either the veterans, or the flag, or both. 
Following behind was a gigantic Armored Personnel Carrier, and behind, and included with, it a troop of Boy Scouts.  It was a rather odd combination, I felt, but I’m used to odd combinations.
Back home, afterwards, the cacophony, and dissonance, of the internet brought endless competing views of what July 4 means, or should.  Some enterprising bunch was selling robo-faxes at a steal, to send fax’ed tea bags to every member of Congress (it’s worth a blog entry of its own, to follow tomorrow): an anti-tax protest on the 4th of July.  A patriotic piece came around that caused me to check on the urban legends website, and indeed, the piece was part fact, and part fancy, with no effort to separate myth from real.
On the other side, came an appeal to do more Peace vigils in the coming months.  Etc.
The President weighed in with a brief statement of the signicance of the day with the concluding sentences “It is a day to celebrate all that America is.  And today is a time to aspire toward all we can still become.” with an ending “P.S — Our nation’s birthday is also an ideal time to consider serving in your local community.  You can find many great ideas for service opportunities near you at http://www.serve.gov. “
Last night  there were the annual fireworks in a nearby park.  A particularly loud crescendo of the traditional “bombs bursting in air” woke me from a sound sleep.
I think, wouldn’t it be nice if some day in this country, the Parade would be headed by some kind of group carrying a World Peace flag, and people were applauding them.  
To hear John Denver sing “Last Night I had a Strangest Dream” go to http://www.amillioncopies.info.  Click on Denver’s image at the left of the home page.  And wander around in the website for a bit….
UPDATE 5:20 p.m. Sunday, July 5, 2009
Immediately after clicking ‘publish’ on the above, I went in to my Church, Basilica of St. Mary, Minneapolis, for the usual Sunday Mass.  Basilica is a very large and very diverse Parish, at the edge of downtown on downtowns historically premier street, Hennepin Avenue.  Typically Basilica has lots of visitors; it is conservative and it is liberal, rich and poor.  On a typical Sunday, a fair number of homeless show up for coffee and donuts.
Basilica is also a Peace Site, and a year ago made a formal commitment to Peace as a key part of its Centennial celebration.
Today I saw that commitment before and during the service.  A large “Peace” sign welcomes people to the church (see photos from Basilica calendars at the end of this article.)
In today’s service, the opening song was Sibelius’ “This is My Song” from Finlandia: (“But other hearts in other lands are beating, with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.”)  In the sermon, a key part of the message was recollection of a young man at a July 4 celebration who carried a sign “God Bless the whole world.  No exceptions“.  The intercessions included prayers for Peace and for those in service to this country of ours; the recessional was America the Beautiful, and the Postlude was Sousa’s Stars and Stripes Forever.
I had nothing to do with how today’s service was put together.  But I liked it, a lot.
In short, Basilica seems to cover all the bases towards a better world.  Basilica is a formal Peace Site, #419 at http://www.peacesites.org/sites/map

Art Work on 2007 Basilica of St. Mary annual calendar.  Note Peace sign in lower left.

Art Work on 2007 Basilica of St. Mary annual calendar. Note Peace sign in lower left.

 

Peace Pole featured on Basilica of St. Mary calendar for September, 2009

Peace Pole featured on Basilica of St. Mary calendar for September, 2009

#45 – Bob Barkley: Guns and America

Moderator:  A previous writing on this general topic is at #3, published April 3, 2009.

Guns: Guns are used for sport. I have absolutely no interest in such sports. But as long as my safety is not seriously threatened, I believe individuals should have the right to engage in such sports and use any reasonable sporting guns they choose to.

 

On the other hand, I do not support guns in homes—and certainly not other than under lock-and-key – and in no way do I support assault or other military weapons in the possession of civilians. To paraphrase Bierce, “guns are instruments used by supposedly civilized peoples in order to settle disputes that might become troublesome if left unadjusted.” This points out the absurdity of violence as a means of generating peace. The use of guns indicates a reliance on force when there is little competence or inclination to rely on the power of more civilized means. I have little tolerance here, and the international data—viewed over time—demonstrates without question the ridiculousness of the US fascination both with weapons and with force.

To give a little context to this issue, “Guns Take Pride of Place in US Family Values” by Paul Harris, and published in the UK Observer on October 14, 2007 stated, “Guns, and the violence their possessors inflict, have never been more prevalent in America. Gun crime has risen steadily over the last three years. Despite the fact that groups like the NRA consistently claim they are being victimized, there have probably never been so many guns or gun-owners in America – although no one can be sure, as no one keeps reliable account. One federal study estimated there were 215 million guns, with about half of all US households owning one. Such a staggering number makes America’s gun culture thoroughly mainstream. An average of almost eight people aged under19 are shot dead in America every day. In 2005 there were more than 14,000 gun murders in the US – with 400 of the victims children. There are 16,000 suicides by firearm and 650 fatal accidents in an average year. Since the killing of John F. Kennedy in 1963, more Americans have died by American gunfire than perished on foreign battlefields in the whole of the 20th century.”  
And later Harris adds, “But the key question is not about the number of guns in America; it is about why people are armed. For many gun-owners, and a few sociologists, the reason lies in America’s past. The frontier society, they say, was populated by gun-wielding settlers who used weapons to feed their families and ward off hostile bandits and Indians. America was thus born with a gun in its hand. Unfortunately much of this history is simply myth. The vast majority of settlers were farmers, not fighters. The task of killing Indians was left to the military and – most effectively – European diseases. Guns in colonial times were much rarer than often thought, not least because they were so expensive that few settlers could afford them. Indeed one study of early gun homicides showed that a musket was as likely to be used as club to beat someone to death as actually fired. But many Americans believe the myth.”
Recently it was reported that if you have a gun in your home there is 22 times as great a likelihood that it will be used against you or someone you know than against an intruder/criminal. And as the New York Times reported on April3, 2009: “Contrary to gun lobby claims, the evidence suggests that permitting concealed weapons drives up crime rather than decreasing it.”

The second amendment recognizes the need for a “well regulated militia” being the only basis for the possession of arms. With the abundance of formally organized and regulated police, safety, and military forces in the US—none of which existed at the time of the amendment—it is a huge stretch to use this amendment to suggest that it provides for random and indiscriminate individual possession of arms. It does not. And the Supreme Court, is dead (no pun intended) wrong! We must move into modern civilization and seriously regulate arms possession and use. However, the fundamental right to bear arms—as long as they cannot be used to threaten me and mine—remains a matter of individual choice and intelligence. We cannot legislate wisdom – or even common sense it appears.

 

And to expand on the Second Amendment arguments, it is only those who are ignorant of, or choose to ignore history, that fail to recognize that the founders were strongly set against a standing army.  They considered it a horrendous threat to the future of the democratic republic they envisioned.  And it was solely because they anticipated no standing army that they endorsed ordinary citizens owning and learning to use muskets so that they might be called upon to defend our country if needed.

 

Thus, we have ended up with two violations of our founder’s intentions: 1) the presence of a standing army of gigantic excess, and 2) the support of the people’s license to possess arms of unlimited dimension for reasons that no longer exist.

 

Jane Smiley, novelist and essayist, in April 2007, had this to say about the subject, “…guns have no other purpose than killing someone or something. All the other murder weapons Americans use, from automobiles to blunt objects, exist for another purpose and sometimes are used to kill. But guns are manufactured and bought to kill. They invite their owners to think about killing, to practice killing, and, eventually, to kill, if not other people, then animals. They are objects of temptation, and every so often, someone comes along who cannot resist the temptation–someone who would not have murdered, or murdered so many, if he did not have a gun, if he were reduced to a knife or a bludgeon or his own strength. I wish that the right wing would admit that, while people kill people and even an “automatic” weapon needs a shooter, people with guns kill more people than people without guns do.

 

But above all else, I am swayed to my negative thinking regarding guns by the following: “In the U.S., 12 children each day die from gun violence. Homicide was the second leading cause of death for people ages 10 to 24 in 2001, with rates 10 times that of other industrialized nations.” (Source: Marianne Williamson of The Peace Alliance.) No sporting interests can trump that revelation.

 

I also believe that everyone that purchases or owns a gun should be forced to buy special insurance to cover its misuse or accidental injury. Why not? Isn’t auto insurance the same thing?

 

Individual rights—particularly when it comes to minority interests—are what our nation was founded upon and those rights must take precedence over ideological preferences. Nevertheless, it is my considered belief that many people are pretty dumb and guns have a way of helping those people prove it.

#44 – Dick Bernard: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans"

The week just past was  a planned one.
Tuesday afternoon, I was to attend the dedication of a new building and a Peace Pole at St. Paul’s Monastery in suburban Maplewood MN.  The event promised to give inspiration. http://www.stpaulsmonastery.org/
Wednesday through Friday was to be a trip to North Dakota to visit my Uncle and Aunt in the small town of LaMoure.  My cousin, Mary, watching over her niece, Gwen, who was seriously ill in a Minneapolis hospital, planned to go along if Gwen’s medical condition seemed to be relatively stable. 
Saturday’s schedule included a three hour meeting in the morning; and an invitation to a combination wedding/birthday dinner celebration at the home of a friend in our city. 
That was how the week ahead looked one week ago today.
Monday my good friend, Lynn, an officer on LST 172 in the Pacific in WWII, called and asked if I would represent he and his wife at a funeral in a rural Minnesota town about three hours away.  A friend of his, Melvin, aged 85, an enlisted man on that same LST so many years ago, had died tragically in a farm accident the previous week, and Lynn and Donna could not make the long trip.  It appeared that I could make the funeral and not miss the dedication on Tuesday. I agreed to go.
Tuesday came and went, a sad, tiring, yet very inspiring day.  The funeral was held in a packed church; at the cemetery an American Legion Color Guard, Taps; then lunch, back on the road and on-time to the dedication, which was even more inspiring than I had anticipated.  In both events, one sad, one happy, one saw the best of what our society has to offer, people gathering together in community, in peace.
At the end of Tuesday I called my cousin to see if she was on for North Dakota, and she was.  Gwen, while very sick, had had a good day on Tuesday, and things appeared reasonably stable.
We made the 300 mile trip west on Wednesday, went out to the ancestral family farm with our Uncle and Aunt, did some maintenance chores there, came back to town for hamburgers, and I turned in early, exhausted. 
Thursday was more visiting and a little more work.  In the afternoon we came back to Vince and Edith’s apartment, and saw two notes taped to their door, both with my name on the outside.  The first was a message for me to call my wife; the second was more explicit, an e-mail with the stark announcement that Gwen, 36, mother of two youngsters, had died earlier in the day.  It is at such moments that it is important to have people around, and the four of us, at that moment, happened to have each other, outside an apartment door in LaMoure, North Dakota.
We rested for a bit, and came back to the apartment to have supper, and all of us were invited to join a birthday party there, put together by the family of an 89-year old lady who’s also a resident in the apartment community.  The festivities helped take minds off back home.  The three F’s: Food, Fun, Family are simple necessities of life: things we all deserve, but not all have.
Mary and I completed our visit and returned home on Friday.  Tentative plans she had to visit some other relatives enroute back were put on hold.
Today, I went to the meeting, which went well.  Later my wife and I attended the family celebration of a wedding and two birthdays.  It was a festive, happy event.
Tuesday we go to Gwen’s funeral in a nearby town, a week after the earlier funeral.  There will be differences and similarities between the two leave-takings from life, but basically they will be very similar: acknowledging and remembering the contributions Melvin, and now Gwen, each made to their families and their communities.
A few miles from Tuesday’s funeral, at St. Paul’s monastery, a new Peace Pole*, with the words “May Peace Prevail on Earth” in twelve languages, will bear silent witness to the best that resides in humanity.  St. Paul’s is a Benedictine institution; the Benedictines emphasize hospitality.  (My Uncle and Aunt in LaMoure are fortunate to reside in a Benedictine residence.)        
John Lennon sings his composition”Beautiful Boy” at  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mrfi8-9JVtE.  This song was composed about 1980 in honor of his son, and includes the oft-quoted words in the title of this essay.
At the Tuesday dedication at the Monastery, a musician closed the program with another John Lennon song, “Imagine”, written in 1971.  It, too, seems appropriate on this day. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okd3hLlvvLw

Peace Pole St Paul's Monastery Maplewood MN

Peace Pole St Paul's Monastery Maplewood MN


* For information about Peace Poles visit http://www.peacesites.org/sites/poles.  For information about becoming a Peace Site visit http://www.peacesites.org .

#43 – Dick Bernard: Fathers Day

Happy Father’s Day to all you biological Dads, and the legions of “Dads” whose role was defined by other than physically being the parent. 
Being “father” is a complicated business that defies simple definition.  Even defining my own assorted roles over the 45 years since I first became a father in 1964 would take a lot of words: and that would only be my own descriptions from my own perspective.  Suffice to say that I am with experience in the business of trying to be “father”; all of those who have experienced me as “father” at any point along the way would have their own interpretation of whether I was a good Dad, or a lousy one, or all shades in between at one time or another in each relationship. 
 That is how the role “father”  is.  It is pretty hard to make a “sound bite” of what it is to be “Dad”.
Over the years I’ve watched a lot of men, (and women), practice the imperfect art of fatherhood, juggling it with all the assorted roles that come along with the job.  Each of us have similar stories, having lived the life, or watching someone else live it.  Each story is unique and really never ends.  In many ways we are, good and not so good, a reflection of who we watched and experienced over our lives.   
 My “poster child” for this Father’s Day 2009 is my great-grandfather, Denys-Octave Collette.  I’ve picked him because his is the earliest real photograph I have of an ancestor.  It is an old tintype that I still have.  That photograph is at the end of this piece. 
Octave, as he was apparently called, was born in rural Quebec in 1846, and when he was about 21 the entire family, parents and siblings, moved west to St. Anthony, the original white settlement at St. Anthony Falls, which a few years later became part of Minneapolis MN.  He was not his father’s first child, but he carried his father’s name for some reason.  That Dad went by Denys for some reason.
In 1868 Octave married my great-grandmother Clotilde Blondeau at the Catholic Church of St. Anthony of Padua in St. Anthony MN, only a mile or so from historic St. Anthony Falls.  Her Dad was a French-Canadian voyageur, and (almost certainly) her Mother a native American from Ontario.  The Blondeaus, already with a young family,  had somehow or other come to what is now suburban Minneapolis (present Dayton) not long after 1850, long before there were railroads or roads to this area. 
In 1878, Octave, and several of his brothers, “walked”, it is said, to homestead some ground on the Park River at Oakwood ND, a village just to the east of later-founded Grafton, and a few miles west of the Red River of the North.  The description “dirt poor” probably well describes them.
From the union of Octave and Clotilde came ten children, including my grandmother Josephine.  Several of the children died young, as was not uncommon in those times.  Their entire married life they lived on the same farm, doing their best.   
Great-Grandma died in 1916.  Great-Grandpa remarried the next year to some mysterious woman in Minneapolis.  I say “mysterious” because she apparently did not pass whatever test was administered by the family for acceptability…I know her name and when they were married and where, but she doesn’t merit even a footnote in the family annals.  Had my Dad not “spilled the beans” about her, I probably wouldn’t know she existed.
She died in the early 1920s in Minneapolis.  They had a small store (which still exists as a corner store) on Lyndale Avenue at about 36th Street in North Minneapolis.  Their home exists now only in memory, somewhere above the cars which enter Minneapolis bound I-94 at the Dowling Avenue ramp. 
Octave died a year or two after his spouse at what was called the “poor farm” in Winnipeg (doubtless there’s a story there, too).  He came home to be buried next to his first wife and two of their children who had died in infancy in the churchyard of Sacred Heart Church in Oakwood ND.  He resides there to this day, roughly a half mile from where he farmed for the first 40 years of Oakwoods existence. 
I’ll be at that still-surviving church and churchyard about noon on July 17, along with a tour group who is revisiting French-Canadian, and intercultural relationships between the whites, native Americans and Michif (“half-breeds”) at Turtle Mountain in Belcourt.  We’ll be exploring relationships….
Thanks for the memories, Great Grandpa. 

Octave Collette and Clotilde Blondeau - 1868 - Minneapolis MN

Octave Collette and Clotilde Blondeau - 1868 - Minneapolis MN


Update: July 11, 2009
Monday we head north from the twin cities area for a short vacation.  On the 15th we will be in Winnipeg to visit relatives on Octave’s side of the family; on the 17th I will be in Oakwood, at a luncheon in the church which Great-Grandpa Octave helped to found in 1881, near which he lived and farmed and raised a family for nearly 40 years, and in whose churchyard he is buried.  The next few days will be an opportunity to revisit family history.
The original post, above,  began normally enough, about a Father on Father’s Day.  But Octave’s life ended unpleasantly, with family friction and dilemmas resulting in his dying on a “poor farm” (rest home) in Winnipeg; and his grave in Oakwood un-marked for well over 50 years.
As it goes in families generally, exposure of “dirty laundry” is not always appreciated as it appears to sully the family reputation.  Such is what happened in this post, though in a very innocuous manner.  On the day this post appeared, one descendant, a cousin of mine, wrote me with a story of why the Canadian kin did not harbor their kin in his last unfortunate years.  “he had been [at his sons house] for only a few days and fell down the stairs [and they couldn’t take care of him].  [Two of the sons] wanted to have him buried with their mother in Oakwood.  [One] had a large family and could not afford to bring his Father to Oakwood.  [The other] was able to scrape together enough money to bury his dad with his mother in Oakwood.”   
But there was more to the story, most of which will never be known, but some of which was filled in by my Dad in 1981. 
Octave was part of a large family, and all of his siblings moved to the Oakwood area about 1880, and by the time of his death, there were lots of descendants and relatives in the area between Oakwood and Winnipeg.   Nowhere was there “room in the inn”.
In 1981, my father wrote about the situation: his mother, Octave’s daughter, could not take in her Dad because their house was too small and she still had three kids living at home.  Octave’s son, who had received the farm from his Dad a few years earlier, perhaps could have, but his new spouse was not especially excited about the prospect of having an aged relative she hardly knew living with them.  Hers was likely a very reasonable concern.
Many other siblings and kinfolk between Minneapolis and Winnipeg existed, and all likely had similar and perfectly logical stories.   They had not planned for Octave coming home.
I leave the last word to my own father, Henry Bernard, who was Octave’s grandson, and was a teenager when the family drama took place.  After I noticed no headstone at Octave’s grave in 1981 I asked my Dad to tell me what he knew about the story, and he did, in two letters dated June 29 and July 13, 1981.  Parts of this essay reflect what he remembered.
Two short portions of his story, in his own words,  seem pertinent to end this essay: “No marker was ever put for him [on his grave] for some reason.  There were stories about that but I don’t think it is pertinent.”  (No one has subsequently “spilled the beans” on that tantalizing morsel!)
He neatly sums up the story, thusly: “The comments reveal the reality of all families – that not all is perfect, and in fact it is unreasonable to expect perfection….”
Here’s to families, with all their warts and imperfections!  We do the best that we can do.
Update July 23, 2009:
I visited the “scene of the crime” July 16, 17 and 19, and perhaps have what will be the last words on this topic.
July 16, in rural Manitoba, I visited with Agnes, recently turned 90, who is Octave’s granddaughter, lived in the house with Octave, and was 5 years old when he took the fateful tumble which led to his hospitalization at the “Poor Farm” in Winnipeg sometime before his death in January, 1925.  Agnes remembered Octave as a man with white hair who walked the farmyard with his hands clasped behind his back.  In the directness that accompanies being 90, and reflecting the innocence that accompanied being 5, Agnes said that when she saw her Grandpa fall down the stairs, she laughed – she thought it was funny (her Mom quickly straightened her out!)  As she was recalling the event I remembered that a number of years ago my Dad and I had stayed in the same house, and we had come down the same stairs as Octave had that fateful day many years earlier.
I also remembered an incident when I was less than 10 when I, and a bunch of other boys, witnessed my own father taking a wicked tumble down a stairs.  None of us paid much attention to his agony – we were playing basketball, and that was more important.  Thankfully, Dad got up and wasn’t hurt (he was perhaps 40 at the time).  Hopefully, if he had been hurt, one of us would have had the common sense to get some help for him.  Kids often don’t tune in to these kinds of things.
The day after the meeting with Agnes, I was in the churchyard where Octave remains buried, an appropriate footstone now marking his presence.
Octave Collette R.I.P March 23,1846-January 25, 1925

Octave Collette R.I.P March 23,1846-January 25, 1925


Two days later, Sunday, July 19, several of us went to the site where Octave had died, next to the St. Boniface Cathedral in Winnipeg.    By now, I was hearing the “Poor Farm” more accurately described as a Hospital or Hospice; a caring place staffed by the Grey Nuns.  The original hospital had been replaced by an impressive new hospital on the same site as the old.  In those old days, it was not uncommon for elders to spend their last years in a hospital room.  In fact, Octave’s daughter, my grandmother, lived her last several years in such a circumstance in her North Dakota town.  She died in 1963.
Octave has long rested in peace; now I can rest as well, knowing (I think) most of the rest of the story.  I still have curiosity about Octave’s second wife and her sons: I know the unusual surname, and actually saw it on a billboard while in Canada, but whether I will actually pursue that angle or not is an unanswered question.
It has been an interesting search.

#41 – Dick Bernard: Lobbying

I watch commercial television infrequently, usually local and national news programs in the early evening.  Some times I’m stuck with it, as when we draw baby-sitting duty and some kids channel is on.
For a lot of years I totally boycotted the medium (I didn’t lose anything; on the other hand, it was probably over-kill on my part.)  But what I noticed is that the main purpose of commercial television is to advertise, which is to say, manipulate public opinion.  I had to get away from the medium to see this.
Advertising (lobbying) is incessant.
In the last few days, I have noted from assorted sources something that has long been obvious: Big Business through individual entities like the energy companies, pharmaceuticals, the American Medical Association, the United States Chamber of Commerce, etc., is set to launch major and expensive lobbying campaigns to, essentially, assure that their own status quo (profit making machines) is minimally changed, if at all.
Their target is lawmakers, yes, but really the main target is every one of us.  Prepare for the 2009 version of “Harry and Louise” (the immensely successful 1993 advertising campaign to stop health care reform.)  
Those who we elected to serve us will be bombarded with finely tuned positions.  So will we.
The constant temptation for citizens is to say, in one way or another, “I can’t make a difference anyway”, and then proceed to prove our point by not getting on the court.  This is a dangerous attitude.
The process is easy enough: find out who your own elected representatives are, their local phone number and address, etc., and send them your own brief and polite messages frequently.  It is ideal if they actually know you as people (you’ve worked for them in campaigns, donated or etc.) but regardless, they all know you as the most important person of all: “potential voter”.      Recognize that they have an exceedingly complex job: many constituencies, many priorities. 
Too many of “we the people” still have the attitude I once saw at a polling place: a very grumpy guy went into the booth next to me, came out and said, “now I’ve voted and I have the right to complain.”  I don’t know what he meant by this declaration: was he voting for (or against) somebody; did he mean that all he had to do was vote, and that ended his role in making decisions: did he feel his vote reserved his right to gripe about how terrible things are, but not work to change them? 
He seemed to be leaving the most important part of his job as a citizen behind.
Everything I remember about his attitude that day indicated that he thought he had absolved himself of any responsibility for the outcome between the elections.
Not true.
There are endless sources of information about how to more effectively lobby for your issues.  Here’s one worth looking at: http://www.wellstone.org/organizing-tools/being-successful-citizen-lobbyist.
Get on the court.

#40 – Dick Bernard: Dr. George Tiller May 31, 2009; Stephen T. Johns June 10, 2009: Some thoughts about a conversation

I think I might have a somewhat unusual “spin” on the tragic deaths of Dr. Tiller and Mr. Johns.
What Dr. Tiller and Mr. Johns have in common is that they were gunned down in public settings by cold-blooded killers who doubtless felt they were righteous in their deadly actions.
After Dr. Tiller was gunned down while ushering at his Lutheran Church in Wichita KS,  I heard a tidbit of information that I hadn’t noticed before.  The same tidbit was in the news again on June 10 when Officer Johns was killed at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington D.C.  It jogged my mind back to an angry  conversation a few weeks earlier.
More on the tidbit in a moment; first, a personal “back story” about the angry conversation….
Wednesday, May 6, the local paper in my town published a letter I had written, challenging my local Congresswoman’s deliberate lying about a simple fact relating to the outbreak of the Swine Flu.  I wrote on “the false “coincidence” connecting two [Democrat] presidents [Carter and Obama] to the Swine Flu.”  It wasn’t even a clever lie.  It was exceedingly easy to disprove. 
I closed by saying “Lies are no little deal“.  (The entire letter is at the end of this post.)
I have noticed that the more “local” the “politics” is, the more “down and dirty” it can be.  
The afternoon the newspaper arrived in our mailboxes I received a phone call from a neighbor down the block.  The lady – let’s call her Jane – is a prim, retired, church-going lady.  We know her.  She’s a nice lady. We knew her politics.  But, while firm, she was anything but argumentative.
This particular afternoon, though, was different.  She had read my letter, and she was outraged.   It took me aback, it was so unlike her.  I think I might have inadvertently set her off by saying, in my letter, that my Congresswoman spread “viral messages” which she hoped would “stick in the minds of gullible consumers“.  Nobody likes to be called “gullible”. 
The neighbor went on a rant, including being  incensed that Obama’s Homeland Security had, she said, a list of Christians they were watching, and that she’d heard that on Fox News.  Things settled down, but I wouldn’t call what we had a “civil conversation”.
There have been no followup calls, nor rebuttal letters to the editor on my topic.  Next time I see “Jane” we’ll get along just fine.
I was puzzled by her Homeland Security assertion, until Dr. Tiller was gunned down, and then Mr. Johns.  In the wake of both killings the Homeland Security Assessment, released in early April, 2009, became a topic of news commentators.   It created such controversy at the time that the Secretary of Homeland Security felt a need to apologize.  The problem, it is now clear, is that it was and is a very prudent document, no apology needed.
We will never get rid of extremists in this country.  We have a large population, and there are plenty of very well-armed and very angry folks who exploit their freedom, targeting people with whom they disagree.  Our domestic al Qaeda has been known and in existence for ages through vigilante and terrorist groups and individuals like the Ku Klux Klan, neo-Nazis and their ilk which target certain “others”.  Most of the member of these groups seem a lot like me – almost all white men.  They would be outraged to be called “terrorists”, but that is what they are, and they depend on people like all of us to not take a stand.
I hope that the two assassinations, less than two weeks apart, are not harbingers of a trend.  At the same time, this is definitely a time to be vigilant and to be in dialogue about our own very real problems within our own society.
I take some lessons from the above recounted events:
1.  However “ragged” it was, my neighbor and I were in conversation, even dialogue, something not usual enough in our polarized society.  We were polar opposites, but we were talking.
2.  My letter to the local paper, and their willingness to publish it, helped facilitate the conversation that otherwise would never have happened.
3.  It is by small steps that big changes come about, but we need to take the small, sometimes frightening, steps.  My letter, and Jane’s phone call, were probably equally scary for us.  I appreciate her calling me.
We learn from those views we resonate with; we also learn by crossing boundaries, and listening to others with different points of view.  Make the opportunity to engage with others.   
*
The letter, published May 6, 2009.
“It would be nice to dismiss Rep. Bachmann’s assorted factual errors as amusing, but what she and her advisers are about is dead-serious: they wish to implant in the public mind sundry lies, such as the false “coincidence” connecting two Presidents to the Swine Flu.
Bachmann seems more than willing to carry these viral messages, which are then duly reported, hopefully to stick in the minds of gullible consumers.
I happen to be from a Christian tradition, where we were taught that one can lie either by omission (leaving something important out) or commission (telling a whopper).
It is my understanding that in the Jewish tradition, a lie was an even bigger deal: assassination of one’s character was a potential capital offense.
This is no laughing matter.
Three years or so ago my best friend in [this town] left town solely because his teenage daughter was being hounded by teenage “friends” who did everything in their power to malign her.
Lies are no little deal.”

#39 – Dick Bernard: A new Farmer's Market in New Hope MN

Yesterday’s e-mails included a post from a good friend, Leslie Hendricks, calling attention to a local newspaper article about the opening of a new Farmers Market in her suburban community.
Leslie had good reason to be excited about the article (http://tinyurl.com/mjhlh2) since the New Hope Community Farmers Market is her idea, tirelessly promoted beginning in the Fall of 2008.
(The market opens tomorrow, Saturday, June 13, and will be open every Saturday through October 17.  Hours are 8 a.m. to 1 p.m.  It is located at 4300 Xylon Avenue N in the parking lot by Kmart.  It has a very eye-catching website at www.newhopemarket.org .)
The news article in the local paper (link above) gives all the details of the birth of this venture.
As is always true with any enterprise, it begins with someones idea, but it takes more than an idea to bring success:  a great deal of work is involved, including negotiations, consensus building, selling…. 
Leslie has all those skills, and more.
We’ll take the trip across town Saturday morning to visit this new addition to the twin cities landscape.   Spread the word.
Oh, yes…we should mention that in the midst of all of this hard work to build the Farmer’s Market, Leslie was laid off from her job, and had to find another one (she succeeded), and she’s raising two teens as well.
As I said to her in response to her e-mail yesterday: “WAY TAH GO!!!!!!!!”
Leslie can be reached at leslie102896AThotmailDOTcom.  Ask her about her “Turn Up the Peace” (c) tee-shirt, which is how I met her in the first place.  She walks the talk.

#38 – Dick Bernard: Seeing Community (it's all around us)

Last night I was at a celebration dinner for an organization, World Citizen http://www.peacesites.org .  World Citizen is a good group to get to know.  It’s Mission Statement: “Empower the Education Community to Promote a Just and Peaceful World.”
At the celebration, one of my table mates was a new acquaintance, Abby, irrepressible, four years old, an aspiring ballerina with a tee-shirt to match: a ballerina dress and ballerina shoes on the front. 
Abby was the only small person at the meeting, a fact she doubtless noticed.  Her great-grandpa, Lynn Elling, who founded World Citizen in 1982, got up to speak.  Lynn, now 88, still strong in voice and vision and ideas, remembered again how he began his quest for world peace, for the children of the world.  He remembered being a young officer on an LST, arriving at Tarawa  beachhead some weeks after the carnage there in November, 1943.  He remembered walking on the beach, finding the horrific remains of some Japanese soldiers killed by napalm; he remembered GIs bringing back remnants of the battle: clothing, skulls, etc.   It was there his life changed, and his commitment to peace for coming generations was sealed.
Abby danced around a bit.  At one point she said a bit too loudly that great-grandpa’s speech was “boring”, though that certainly didn’t change her obvious love for great-grandpa.  Such is how it is for youngsters.  For Abby, dancing was much more fun than listening to a speech!
A little later in the program, Rebecca Janke, herself a grandmother, who’d been awarded the Outstanding World Citizen award, rose to speak.  Lynn’s memories brought back her own: her father, she said, was also in WWII, and one of his duties was to put dead bodies in body bags.  He never really recovered from the trauma of that duty.  His war-time experience haunted him his entire life.   He was one of those countless uncounted casualties of war.
The program over, I reflected on the last few days which were full of “community” kinds of experiences: people, often  unknown to each other, getting together for one reason or another.  The organizing mantra: “food, fun and family” usually identifies essential components of these successful events, small and large.
Last Thursday, for instance, in the afternoon I was at a gathering to recognize volunteers at an elementary school in a nearby suburb.  I met, there, a lady who likes to dress up in costumes, and read to first graders.  My grandkids go to that school.  Thursday, the kids had to wait while the elders had first pick at the assorted goodies…the storyteller knew this wait was excruciating for the tykes, and parcelled out some of the M&Ms in a dish at our table.
A couple of hours later, I was with about 30 parents of school age kids who have organized a growing organization to lobby for adequate support for public education – a difficult issue these days.  These were people who truly care about the future for the Abby’s of the world, their own and others. http://www.parentsunited.org .
There were other events as well, before and in between, which basically helped, once again, to define “community” for me. 
“Community” is all of us together, working for a common good.
A final note on World Citizen, whose celebration I attended last night:  I first attended its annual celebration just two years ago.  I went there on a whim, when I heard about it at another meeting I had just attended.
At that celebration, the same Lynn Elling got up to speak, and led us in a rendition of a song John Denver made memorable in the 1960s: “Last Night I had the Strangest Dream”, (ca 1950 Ed McCurdy).  I was hooked.
The song, sung by John Denver, and Lynn Ellings dream, live on at http://www.amillioncopies.info .  Take moment to visit.  And, again, visit http://www.peacesites.org.
And speaking of “food” and community, here’s a gift recipe received yesterday from a friend:
Carol’s Caramel Corn (use big kettle)
2 cups brown sugar
1/2 cup light syrup
2 sticks oleo (margarine)
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
Stir/boil for 5 minutes
1 teaspoon soda
Pour over 5 quarts popcorn.  Mix.
Put on cookie sheets and bake at 250 degrees for 45 minutes.
Dump out.  Break apart.
(The recipe doesn’t say what to do after it’s prepared.  I guess I can figure that out!)

#36 – Dick Bernard: President Obama builds a wall behind U.S. (and everyone else)

For previous posts mentioning President Obama, see Categories.
A reader comment follows this post
Today President Obama is at Normandy; yesterday at Buchenwald; Thursday at Cairo….
The analysis of the Presidents words is and will be unending, but one particular piece of analysis by a single “special interest” group, and some more general articles about what the speech meant have most caught my attention:
At Cairo, the President, glaringly,  seems to have not used the “T” word, not once.  This has caused great distress in certain circles in our country and elsewhere.  Symbolically, I felt, with his speech he seemed to deliberately end the War on T, the war on a word and the war on everybody, everywhere….
Also, in more than a few instances in that speech, he had made promises – commitments – such as closing Guantanamo, which are politically extremely difficult.  And he challenged others in other countries to figure out  how to solve their problems, with our help.
President Obama’s rhetoric is solutions driven, not problem centered.  Solutions by their nature require cooperation, working together towards a common goal.  They do not presume delegation to someone else or defending the status quo.
The more I think of his words during, and the symbolism of, this most important trip to Europe and the Middle East, the more I am convinced that his administration is consciously and deliberately building “a wall behind” all of us, to at minimum make it more difficult for each and every one of us to retreat back to the familiar, of what was, however dismal that past might have been.
For those whose reputation was made, and whose future relies, on the war on “T” , that “wall behind” has a certain meaning.
For those who railed against that mindset, the same “wall” is as certainly built behind them.  They can choose to take the risk of moving forward into an uncertain future, learning new ways of engagement; or to turn around and try to tear down that wall to go back to the comfort of what was.
Likely each of us can remember some time or circumstance when we built a “wall” of some kind behind us which forced us to go forward, doing something we didn’t want to do.  (Sometimes this is also referred to as “burning bridges behind us”).  This is a good time to reflect on what our “wall” (or “bridge”) might have been, and how we grew when forced to move forward rather than able to go back.
George Santayana was correct in his famous statement “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it“, but there are certainly equally persuasive arguments about the folly of becoming mired in the past and refusing to move on.   It is hard to move forward while always looking back.
We need to look forward, and personally own the future we’re all creating.  The future for ourselves and our fellow world citizens is a future that we build, together.  We depend on this forward looking and acting; even more so, the future of the generations which follow us depend on us.

#35 – Dick Bernard: President Obama speaks from Cairo

Yesterday afternoon I made a spur of the moment visit to an administrator at a Minneapolis college.  I found his office.  Luckily he was in.  I knocked.  “Come in”, he said.  He was looking at his computer screen, watching a replay of the President Obama speech in Cairo from some hours earlier.
My visit to this college office was not to talk about Obama or the Middle East or such.  I did the business I planned to do, and departed.  We didn’t even mention the speech.  He and I have never talked politics.  I don’t know what his politics is. 
But one of my enduring memories of Obama’s speech in Cairo will definitely be walking into that office, and seeing Tom watching the President speak on his computer screen.  It will remind me of those iconic photographs of families sitting around their radio listening to President Roosevelt address the nation on some critical issue or another in the 1930s or 1940s.  Roosevelt, too, was a master of the art of communications with a distant public. 
My guess is that the scene I witnessed yesterday was repeated  in countless and varied settings here and around the world, particularly in the Muslim world.
As is predictable, every word, every facial expression, every single nuance of the Presidents long speech will be dissected, analyzed and interpreted for its meaning.   The interpreters will focus on their own particular favorite issue, whether he said the right or wrong thing about it, and then “spin” it to their particular preference.
It was an international speech, to the Muslim world in particular, and because of the miracle of technology it can be watched and re-watched over and over and over again.  What Obama said, yesterday, he knows he will be held to.  This was not a campaign speech; rather it was the leader of a powerful country speaking to the entire world. 
Personally, I think the key facets of this speech, yesterday in Cairo at about this time of day U.S. time, were its symbolic aspects:
A.  that it was specifically addressed to the Muslim world;
B.  that it was given in the Muslim world, in Cairo;
C. that it specifically acknowledged and honored the Muslim tradition and the people who are part of that major world religion;
D. that he chose specifically to publicly acknowledge the role of the United States in the overthrow of the elected government of Iran in 1953.
Yesterday, today and beyond there will be endless analysis of the Presidents speech. 
While there are endless and immense problems which no speech can pretend to solve, my own prediction is that President Obama’s speech in Cairo on June 4, 2009, is historically very significant, and can give impetus to a major shift in global relationships.  It provides a floor for new conversations; an opportunity to think in different ways.
He was speaking to world leaders, yes; but he was speaking even more to those ordinary people who in many settings throughout the Muslim world were watching his image on television and listening to his words, perhaps much like common Americans listened to Roosevelt during the Great Depression and World War II, and then went out and contributed to the necessary effort to accomplish the tasks at hand.
My hope is that all of us will use this speech as an opportunity to move forward, rather than to get mired in the “same old, same old” of focusing on what was or wasn’t said, and how precisely the administration follows through on the text, or not.  Certainly it is important to be vigilant, and to even be critical, but this speech was an entire “book”, more than simply a chapter or a few paragraphs.   
http://www.whitehouse.gov to access a video or transcript of the entire speech