Fear Not

I am sad and troubled today. I am sad because so many seems shocked by the murder of the young lady just a few short miles from where I live. Why would you be shocked? Evil does exist in our world. We know that, right?

I know its easy to ignore the fact that evil really does exist and walks among us, because (thankfully) we encounter it so rarely.

Almost every time something like this occurs we are reminded... and we are alarmed. I begin to see posts advocating the use of pepper spray, or worse, wasp spray. I see post about putting your keys beside your bed so you can hit the panic button and scare away the bad guy. And that makes me sad too beause those folks have no clue what violence looks like or how ill prepared they are to meet it.

I'm sad too because I've had people accuse me of promoting fear because I want people to be truly able to defend themseleves against a violent attacker. They tell me that such things are far to "negative" to dwell on.

What they fail to see is that it is quite the opposite. The more prepared you are to confront a violent attacker, the less afraid you are. You have a confidence that you have a fighting chance because you invested some time and money into doing what you can to prepare yourself to protect those you love.

I've even had people respond to me by being a little bit afraid of me. They don't say so, but I do sense it. And t hat is sad too because I'm the least likely perosn to cause them harm. I am simply a reminder to them that evil exists - and they don't want to think about that.

And I have had peope tell me that they are going to rely on me to protect them because they belive that I will. Honestly, I find that sad too ... and incredibly selfish that they would ask me to put my own life at risk to save them becuase they will not take responsibility for their own safety. What if I am killed trying to protect them. Are they ok with that? Really? What if I am not killed but injuired. I'm going to be out medical bills to recover. Have they considered that? Do they realize that even if I do respond and even if I do prevail that I will spend hundreds of thousands of dollars in court costs? Do they know their attaker can sue me in civil court for my actions even if those actions were found to be completely justified? I may lose my home and all that I own. Why would I do that for someone who will not do what they need to do for themselves?

I'm reminded of C.S. Lewis when he was told that fairy tales are too scary for children because they induce fear. People want to shield children from the reality of evil in the world. But kids know that evil exists. Lewis responded, “Since it is so likely that they will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. . . Let there be wicked kings and beheadings, battles and dungeons, giants and dragons, and let villains be soundly killed at the end of the book”

If C.S. Lewis thought children should be equipped to deal with the subject of evil, why would we as adults continue to pretend it does not exist? Why would we not prepare to meet it should it ever visit us? And why on earth would we condemn those who try to help us be prepared?

An Extraordinary Ordinary Man

The house I grew up in

I was about 4 years old when Mr. Geary came to live in our upstairs apartment. 

Our little town was building a new power plant and he was one of the construction workers from Kentucky that had come in to town to work on it.  I'm not sure how old he was at that time but to me, he looked as old as anyone I had  ever seen. 

We quickly became unlikely best buddies.  Everyday my mother would tell me when it was about time for him to arrive home and I would run out, sit on the front porch and wait for his old red pickup to come down the lane.    At the first sight of it I would jump down off the porch and run to meet him. 

Every day he brought me a treat, usually a Hershey candy bar and some gum or other things he had picked up from the drug store in town.  We had a routine, he and I.  He would give me my candy and head up to his apartment. I would go in, get the newspaper and stand at the bottom of the stairs and ask, "Mr. Geary, do you want the paper"? 

Of course he would tell me to bring it on up. Sometimes I would pick a red rose off of my mother's rose bush to take to him as well, just to make it more special.   In his kitchen he would have two glasses of tomato juice poured and we would sit at his kitchen table and drink tomato juice while he looked over the paper.  I hated tomato juice but I drank it because he liked it. 

Then we would go outside and play with my dog or my dolls, or swing on the swingset.  Nothing special really, just an old man and a little girl spending time together much like a grandfather would do with his granddaughter.

I still remember the day Mr. Geary left our town.  My mother had told me that his job was finished and that he needed to go back to Kentucky to be with his family.  I was angry that he was leaving and ran out and sat on my swing, facing away from the house because I didn't want to see him leave. 

After a while he came out, put his bags in his truck and then stood off to the side of the swingset trying to tell me goodbye.  I would have none of it.  I would not look his way or give him the time of day.  He stood there for what seemed like a really long time.  After several minutes, he came over, bent down and kissed my cheek.  His face was wet with tears.  Then he turned, got into his truck and drove away. 

I never saw Mr. Geary again.  As a teenager we heard a rumor that he has passed away so I never bothered to look for him.  Much later in life I decided it would be nice to find his grave and say a proper goodbye.  After much research trying to sort out all of the Thomas Gearys in Kentucky, I got in contact with his son.  My heart sank as he told me that Mr. Geary had only passed away about 3 years earlier.  All of those years he was living just a few hours away.  He likey died not having any idea what he meant to me.  He probably imagined that a little girl would quickly forget. 

I did not forget.  Not even for a little bit.  So on a rainy summer day I drove to Bowling Green, Kentucky and put some red roses on the grave of a man who was much like a grandfather to me and finally, said goodbye. 

Mr. Geary never did anything that many people would call remarkable.  He never spent a lot of money on toys or gifts for me. He simply spent his time.  Looking back, I am sure that the last thing he felt like doing at the end of a hard day at work was to play with a little girl.  But he did.  And that little bit of time left such a mark on my life that at age 56 I am writing about him to let you know a bit about an extraordinary ordinary  man. 

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When the Music Stops

I have a love/hate relationship with this time of year. I love it because all my work is over.

And I hate it because its all over.

True, my work is done. No more need for long days and sleepless nights.

True, I can rest and do some things I enjoy.

 But there is also the feeling that everyone has left the room and the music has stopped and its just me left with an empty room. There's a bit of sadness because I've met new people that I like and wonder if I'll see them again. And there is time. Time to do ... what??

Boredom is not a good thing for me. I don't deal with it well. At all. It may not be healthy to "keep drinking that coffee and keep going" like my friend says I do, but its a lot healthier for me than dealing with boredom.

This time last year I crashed. Hard.  So, I've taken some steps this year to deal with boredom.

I have things to do.  Of course, I'm still not completely done with REZonate.  There are still thank you notes to be written and "gift in kind" forms to fill out and file, and there is still that pile of junk about my house that I need to move to storage.

Next weekend I head to Chicago and in October I'll be skydiving!  And at some point I have bathroom wallpaper that needs to be stripped off.  Whoever thought that gluing paper to a wall was a good idea??  So, I do have things to do ... I guess I just don't like goodbyes.