The life stance of Humanism—guided by reason, inspired by compassion, and informed by experience—encourages us to live life well and fully. It evolved through the ages and continues to develop through the efforts of thoughtful people who recognize that values and ideals, however carefully wrought, are subject to change as our knowledge and understandings advance."

   Sounds great, doesn't it? We humans are so intelligent and evolved that we are able to lead ethical lives … that aspire to the greater good of humanity. We don't need any guidance from any mythical "higher being." We are so brilliant in our own right and abilities that we know what is best. And if we don't, individually, there are always those intelligentsia, like our peerless leaders in Washington, who know what is best for us. That's comforting, isn't it?  And, since our philosophy has evolved through the ages and continues to develop, then we never really need to worry whether something is right or wrong. Rationalism tells us that we needn't worry -- as soon as enough other people are doing it, then it becomes right and proper. So, just have patience you NAMBLA members, as soon as there are enough of you, then pedophilia will be acceptable. Right?

   When I ask them whether there is an absolute right and wrong, my FIU students assure me that there are no absolutes. When I ask them if they are absolutely sure, they tend to stutter.

   Humanism is a cop out. As is rationalism. They are ways to try to shift the blame … or eliminate it altogether. If right or wrong is what we, in our supreme knowledge, decide it is, then we can do anything we want to without worry. Kind of like the "morning after pill." Do whatever you want to tonight -- you can always take a pill tomorrow that will negate the whole thing.

   It kind of reminds me of the story of the scientist arguing with God about whom is the strongest creatively. In his laboratory the scientist has finally been able to animate, to give a form of life to, a mixture of cells that he has arranged.

   "I can create life, too," argues the scientist.

   "OK," says God, "let's have a contest. We'll see who can do the best job of creating life."

   The scientist stoops to gather up some of the materials from which he forms his cells, and God stops him -- "Wait a minute! You've got to create your own materials. You can't use the ones that I've created."

   We are the created. He is the creator. How on earth can we pretend to be smarter than, or as smart as, God? I don't mind a humanist shaking his fist up at the heavens and yelling, "I'm just as good and smart and evolved as You are!" I just don't want to stand next to him during a thunderstorm.

11/2/09 Why do bad things happen to good people? Actually, the question is intended to mean, “Why does GOD allow (or cause) bad things to happen to good people. Frighteningly, one of the first answers to this question given by religionists is: “There are no good people.” OK. Original sin. I get it. But that really begs the question. There has to be something deeper, more meaningful, more HELPful than that. Why do bad things happen to good (more or less) people? When Kushner wrote his book in 1981, some of his answers were – random, circumstantial suffering; being in the wrong place at the wrong time; natural law is blind, with no exceptions for good (or better) people; or, God can’t do everything. Answers, and seemingly deep, but not very helpful.

A young girl, the daughter of some church friends of mine, had twins last Wednesday. It was a Caesarian birth, and things seemed to go all right, but then she had a seizure and “coded.” She had internal bleeding and blood clots – very serious. They had to stabilize her then rush her to the cardiac care intensive care unit of another hospital, where she remains in guarded condition. Was she evil, and that’s why God did or allowed this? Not at all! She’s married to a youth pastor. Her father tells me that her deep spirituality as a youth often put him to shame! So then why did this bad thing happen to this good person?

Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” It’s just up to us to find out why, or to trust by faith.

In this instance, the father tells me that he has been amazed by the number of people who are reportedly praying for Kristin – some who have not prayed in years. It has also caused his wife and him to revaluate their lives, to see whether they are living as honestly and as well as they should and could. He’s even seen non-believers start to edge toward belief, as the prayers of the many are being heard, and miraculous healing is taking place in Kristin’s body.

“Oh,” says the skeptic, “that’s just good doctors and good medicine.” Perhaps. But one of the doctors called it miraculous and of God. And he ought to know.

There always is hope in horror, assurance in anguish.

In another instance, a young girl in Miami was stabbed to death by her boyfriend. I don’t know the parties involved, but there is always heartache over the seemingly senseless loss of a young life. One of my students asked me for guidance, some sort of comfort that he could offer to friends of the girl who were now mourning deeply. Not knowing the girl, nor the circumstances, I’m not able to offer specifics, but I can offer some generalities that I hope will help.

Maybe not the most helpful would be to start out by recognizing that our sorrow right now is for ourselves. Our friend is gone, and that’s final. We now are feeling sorry for our loss. Is that what she would have wanted? Would she want us sitting in “sackcloth and ashes,” rending our garments and wailing our distress, or would she want us to remember the love and the laughter, the fun and the fancy, the good times with good friends? A friend would want our grief to be brief, our memories to be momentous.

We can also use the realization of loss to galvanize our actions towards our remaining friends. As we brood over the things that we wish we had said when our friend was with us, we must recognize the things that we have not yet said to our friends and relatives who remain. This seemingly senseless death can have the wondrous consequence of opening our emotions and our feelings to those we love. The enhanced depth of love and relationship, of affinity and rapport can stand as a living tribute to the departed friend.

Why do bad things happen to good people? I don’t know. But the important thing that I do know is that these bad things can be, must be, used to better our lives and loves. This is the way that we turn regret into remembrance and sorrow into solace. Our better lives will stand as living tribute to those who have left us. They will live on in us.

10/30/09 Sure am glad that I am not trying to make a living writing this blog. I was listening to some radio commentary, this morning, as I drove down to the VA in Miami. They were discussing hate crime legislation and whether different individual definitions or circumstances should have "additional" protection from hate crime status. I'm disabled … handicapped. That means if you pick on me, I can claim that it is a hate crime, and your penalty will be higher than if I were able bodied. If you call a gay man a "queer" while you are beating on him, then that's a hate crime, and you'll suffer a greater penalty than if you beat up a "straight." Now, I've got a question -- Does that really make sense to you? Why is murdering a homosexual a worse crime than murdering a white-Anglo-Saxon-protestant? Personally, I think they both show a certain level of hate, don't they? I mean, murdering someone certainly doesn't show that you love them, does it? How about painting something objectionable on a synagogue? Is that, in fact, worse than spraying graffiti on a Methodist church? Or a Publix, for that matter? I'm not saying that so-called "hate crimes" should have their penalties lowered -- I'm saying that crime is crime. Murder is murder. Why should one person's religious or sexual preferences make crime against them worse than a crime against a young, able-bodied, educated, white, heterosexual protestant? If there is an enhanced penalty for a "hate crime," then the penalty should be enhanced for everyone who commits that crime against anyone! At least that how I see it. Somewhere I seem to have read that "All men are created equal." Am I way off base here, or does this not make logical sense?

09/16/09 I don't know if it is a sad commentary on higher education, or just on Florida International University. I love my students. I tell them that. I tell them that I pray for them. I try to make the academic stuff that I teach them fun and interesting, and I try to go beyond that and teach them something about life and living well. And their reaction to me is heartwarming and amazing. But the sad part is . . . they tell me that their (other) professors "hate" them! WHAT?!? Yeah, that's what they've said. Well, why on earth teach if you don't like … heck, LOVE … your students? I got some emails from some students this morning that just warmed the cockles of my heart. They are so appreciative of a professor that cares! I just … well, there's not a lot more that I can say. They are such wonderful kids!

07/15/09 I have a Bachelor of Science degree in business administration and economics from a small private university. I have a Master of Public Policy degree in public sector financial management from a large public university. I have most of a Doctor of Philosophy  degree in finance from a large private university, and most of a Master of Business Administration degree in Marketing from another public university. I retired as a Lieutenant Commander in the Coast Guard. I am a Participating Professor at a state university, I am an ordained minister of the gospel, and I am a Master Mason. You could address me as Commander, Professor, Brother, Pastor, Reverend or the more pedestrian Mister. But, do you know what all of that means? Not a thing. Not really. That’s all window-dressing.

A book from which I used to teach told about a highly-educated highly-experienced priest who, in order to regain his mental bearings, left his prestigious teaching post (I believe he was at Notre Dame), and went to work in a residential home for mentally challenged adults. What was fascinating was that here none of his past experience, his degrees and honors, his qualifications meant anything to the people with whom he was now interacting. He was, essentially, “naked.” They were not impressed by the series of letters streaming after his name. Nor did they care about his clerical collar. The jobs he had had, the people he knew on a first-name basis, the honors he had received – all meant absolutely nothing. Bupkis. He now had to be accepted or rejected for who HE was.

Have you ever taken the time to think about who YOU are? Not what you’ve done, or who you know, or who you are related to – who YOU are, as God made you without all the extra trappings. Who are YOU? Would YOU like you? Think about it. Pray about it.

07/13/09 As I'm sitting here writing, I'm looking out the window at another typical south Florida summer day. Right now it is sunny and hot and humid. This afternoon it will rain torrentially for a while, then be wet and hot and humid. After a while the sun will come back out, and it will be like existing in a steambath, as the sunshine evaporates the rain that fell and makes the humidity such that it'll be like breathing underwater. And a lot of people will complain. It's either too hot, or too humid, or the rain came at just the wrong time, or something. Then there are the mosquitoes. The raindrops, at least a large number of them, seem to miraculously turn into bloodthirsty mosquitoes as soon as they hit the ground. But … so what? If you don't like the heat, stay indoors. That's why God invented air conditioning. If you don't like the rain, wait until it stops. In south Florida we have a saying -- "If you don't like the weather, wait fifteen minutes. It'll change." The humidity is making your hair frizzy? Wear a hat. Or shave your head -- it works for me! Stop kvetching, and start appreciating what is all around you. Look -- in the neighbor's backyard the marsh hen has five babies chasing after her! Don't just glance at that blossom on the hibiscus (or rose or daisy or chrysanthemum) and think, "Yeah, that's pretty." Stop and look at it. Look at the variations in the pinks and reds. Look at how the petals are linked together. Turn the leaf over and look at the way the veins are structured. Appreciate! My mother used to carry a 10X loupe in her purse so that she could look at things. Sure, that's only a rock, but look closely at it. Look at the way the striations run through it. Look at the way the pieces of mica or quartz or whatever reflect and refract the light. Heck, to get really basic, take that 10X loupe, or just a 4X magnifying glass, and examine your own fingertips. Look at the way the loops and whorls of your fingerprint make a pattern. I like to stop and think about my two-year old grandson, Colton, and how it is for him to see so many things for the very first time. The wonder of it is overwhelming. Have you ever tried to look at things again -- for the first time? God worked really hard to create the things of this world. It would be wrong of us to just blow them off without taking the time to really SEE them -- to fully appreciate them. Think about it.

06/18/09 You know, it's bummer enough being paralyzed from the mid-chest down, but falling and spraining my ankle/foot last Saturday really adds insult to injury. Of course, it's not as bad as the time I fell down the flight of stairs in Maryland and sprained my (same) ankle, broke my leg and separated my shoulder. But, still, it is slowing me down. I guess falling on it again that evening, then having the same leg collapse while I was lifting weights yesterday, didn't help. And I did it just as I was getting to feel feisty enough to go to the beach and try snorkeling. My legs certainly don't work well, but if I go on a calm day, and use the Force Fins that I have (kind of a special swim fin), I should be able to do it. I haven't snorkeled, nor been in the ocean, actually, since my accident in 1992. Well … summer is new. As soon as my foot/ankle is better I'll give it a try.

You know, that's the thing -- giving it a try. It's what I try to teach to my college seniors at FIU. Stuff happens. Things go wrong. But you can't let that defeat you. Oh, sure, when bad things happen you have the right to be upset and angry and disappointed … but only for a short time. Then you have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start doing with what you have left. My trainer, Alvaro, reminded me yesterday of a video clip he had sent to me about a classical guitarist who had no arms. He played with his feet! And he played well. Another clip he sent me was about a mother who, also, had no arms, but had a baby. And the clip showed her changing the baby's diaper using just her feet! And I should complain just because I'm mostly paralyzed!? God never puts more on us than we can handle. Oh, sure, there are times when we wish that He didn't have such a high regard for our abilities, but it is true. With Him all things are possible. Don't whine about it, don't worry about it, don't kvetch about it. Like the commercial says -- "Just do it!"

06/15/09 Wow! Today is our 41st Anniversary! That really sets us apart, in this day and age. And it's a darn shame. Today's society is so focused on instant gratification, moral relativism, secular humanism and disposable relationships that there seems to be no one interested in working to make a relationship work and last. The wedding vows I took say "Until death do us part," but now it seems as though it really means, "Until a better deal comes along." My parents would have been married 57 years the year they died. That's the way it used to be. Am I just old fashioned thinking that a marriage is supposed to be forever? Heck, nowadays there are plenty who don't even want to bother with the "formality" of marriage. They don't think that a brief ceremony and a piece of paper are going to make a difference. Well, when you come right down to it, if that's your attitude, you are right. For you, it won't make a difference. Thankfully, though, we do know a number of younger couples who understand that marriage is a covenant, blessed of God -- Amy & Scott, Jorge & Linda, Amy & Steve. No, even though I am a curmudgeon I don't see an end to the institution of marriage. As long as there are people who believe that -- "The Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall on Adam, and he slept; and He took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh in its place. Then the rib which the Lord God had taken from man He made into a woman, and He brought her to the man. And Adam said: 'This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of man.' Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and they shall become one flesh," marriage will live. Or as Jesus said in the Gospel according to Matthew -- "What therefore God has joined together, let not man put asunder."
 

41 years! And we dated for over 4 years before we wed. That's a lifetime. Yes, we are dinosaurs … and proud of it. Congratulations, Chris. Congratulations me.

06/11/09 South Florida is such a transient place. When you find someone who was actually born in Miami or Ft. Lauderdale, you want to touch them to see if they are real. Most of us, here, are from somewhere else, and most of us have left our extended families behind. In my own case, I have a large family, on my mother's side, that I left behind. Most of  them are still in the close proximity of Philadelphia, and when I can, I travel back up to see them at our annual family reunion.

But family is supposed to be there for support, and when your blood relatives are a thousand or more miles away, even with telephone, airplanes, and Skype, it just isn't the same. That's why, I find, a close-knit church is so important. In the right church, the members become the family you left behind. You don't just go and sit in the back pew on a Sunday morning, and smile and wave at the people you vaguely recognize. In a proper church family, you create relationships that continue outside of the Sunday morning experience. Not only do you get together for church stuff during the week, you get together to watch football on Sunday afternoons, or to celebrate birthdays, or for support. Let me give an example: when Hurricane Wilma went over a few years back, she took a good chunk of my roof with her. Now, I am the usual macho male, don't ask for help, do it all myself . . . even though I am a spinal cord injured paraplegic. So I wasn't about to ask for help, I was just going to figure out a way to get up on the roof and do whatever I could. But I didn't get the chance. The day after the hurricane a bunch of men from my church FAMILY showed up, went up the ladders, and tarped my roof. They didn't wait for me to ask, and they didn't call and ask if I needed help. They KNEW that I would need the help because they were family. So they came and did it. When Chris' mother was sick and dying, over a period of months, no one called and asked if we needed anything -- the church FAMILY just called and said that the dinners would be coming over. They knew we wouldn't ask, and they knew that we would need. They knew because they weren't just Sunday morning acquaintances, they were FAMILY.

That's what church is all about. That's what fellowship and relationships are all about. And now, that's what Two Rivers Church South Florida is all about. Exciting? You'd better believe it. Available to anyone? You'd better believe it.

06/06/09 The 65th anniversary of D Day. It has been noted, on television, that there are only 2 million American WWII veterans still alive. There is an organization that is providing free flights for as many of them as possible to see the relatively new WWII Monument in Washington, D.C. I know I made donations to the creation of that monument, considering my father's service as the captain of a Navy ship at Okinawa during the war. Dad didn't live in the past, and only told stories about his time in the war when pressed, but I know that he was proud of his service, and I was and am still proud of him.

At church, last week, I met Bob who, like me, is a veteran of Viet Nam. We didn't talk about our time "in country," but he related to me how he had been up around Fort Stewart, and observed the support and reception given to veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, and how wonderful it is. Then we did muse about how, in  spite of the politicization of today's conflicts, the reception these guys are receiving, while so dearly earned and deserved, is so much more than we received. I recalled flying to Atlanta, to see my sister and brother-in-law when freshly returned from Nam, and having to deal with their liberal jibes for the time I was there. Not exactly the Welcome Home I would have liked. Oh, well. "Water under the bridge." Our's is passed. Thank the Lord that the guys returning today do not have to deal with the same dislike, dishonor, and hatred. God bless them, and God bless all of you who go out of your way to welcome them back. If you are in the airport and you see a soldier or sailor in uniform, go up to them and thank them. If it weren't for their kind, we'd all be speaking German today.

05/31/09 The 2009 Hurricane Season officially starts tomorrow, though we've already had one tropical depression, just last week. The media is doing its best to freak us out about what the season will bring. I guess there's no real "hard" news happening.

I've lived in south Florida since 1987. Yes, I was down here when Hurricane Andrew blew over. In fact, I was in South Miami Hospital at the time, and the eye went right over us. It was an exciting time. Then a few years ago a much smaller hurricane, Wilma, did about $65,000 damage to our home in Broward County. Been there, seen that, got the T-shirt. And based on that experience, I want to make a couple of observations. One now, and perhaps more in future thoughts.

We all live in south Florida by choice. Actually, I'd like to live somewhere else. I'd love to live on the Eastern Shore of Virginia, but my son and daughter and daughter-in-law and grandsons all live in south Florida, and there's no way I want to move away from them. So, it's my choice. Actually, if you want to come right down to it, every one who lives in hurricane-prone south Florida chooses to live here. Except for the guys in Everglades Correctional or the Krome Detention Center, anyone down here has the choice to move away and live elsewhere. Given that, when the hurricane comes, and you know that ultimately it is going to come, what right do we have to cry and whine to the government to bail us out? What right do we have to stake a claim on the monies of others to pay for our choices (or follies)? When our insurers look at their historical data and statistical projections and want to raise our premiums to compensate for the risk they take in insuring our choice to live in such a danger-fraught area, what gives us the right to cry to our state insurance commission that we are being gouged? We are the ones who chose to live in an area that is 14' above sea level and directly in the path of the annual blow storms. Why shouldn't we have to pay for our choices and their consequences? It's a sad thing, but as the history of the USA progresses, we can see ourselves as becoming less-and-less the strong self-dependent individualists that founded this great nation, and more-and-more sucklings at the tit of government, fully expecting them to act in loco parentis whenever we make a bad choice for ourselves. Of course, then we also are quick to moan and kvetch about our taxes going up, but we are totally unwilling and unable to let go of that tit. So, c'mon hurricane. Give us your worst. Knock down our trees, our homes, our castles. The government will show up with water and food and shelter and, then, after my insurance company has reimbursed me for thousands of dollars more than I have paid them in premiums, the government will also keep them from adjusting their premiums to allow them to make a proper profit -- A LIVING. Damn! I'm beginning to sound like a progressive!  Stop spinning in your grave, dad. I'm just commentating.

05/30/09 I've never written a blog before. In fact, I've never read many blogs. Being an old fogy when it comes to technology, I don't know if I really understand blogs. But I do understand journals, and have tried to keep one (very irregularly) for a number of years. Maybe that's sort of what I am doing here. Then, too, I do think that I have some things to say which might be of interest to others -- to my students, at least, who are sort of a captive audience. So I'm going to give it a try.

--I'd like to strongly recommend a book, BASIC ECONOMICS -- A CITIZENS GUIDE TO THE ECONOMY by Thomas Sowell. Yeah, I know. Sounds horribly boring. Actually, it is very interesting and engaging, and helps us to realize a lot of truisms about the world in which we live. I'm both listening to it on CD, and reading the book, independently. It was interesting on CD, but I found that I need to highlite and annotate. This is some good stuff, and I will be using some of it in future blog submissions.

--I'm a 100% disabled veteran living on a VA disability income. President Obama has arranged for me to get a $250 check to help spur the recovery of the economy. Thank you, Mr. President. I'm going to help spur the economy by taking my $250 and buying ammunition for my two .45 cal Glocks, and my daughter's 9 mm Beretta before your government can outlaw the ammo. The concealable Glock 36 I purchased with my first Social Security check. Come after the guns, and you can have them when you pry them from my cold dead fingers.

Am I paranoid because I always carry a concealed weapon when I am out of the house? No. In fact, because I carry a concealed weapon I have no need to be paranoid. There was a recent news article about a wheelchair-bound man knocked from his chair and robbed by two young kids. It was all caught on a security camera. A police chief friend of mine said that when he saw it, he immediately thought of me . . . and how the outcome would have been quite different had it been.