What To Do With 9/11

 Nearly 25 years ago, I took a trip I didn't want to take.  However, I was convinced to go, and it had one of the biggest impacts of my life.  

I am a law enforcement chaplain, and I started my day by turning on the TV morning show.  That was my first glimpse of the North Tower of the World Trade Center in NYC on fire, sending out billows of smoke.  I thought, "What could have happened?  A mechanical failure?"  I would find out soon when I saw the second plane hit the South Tower.  We were under attack!  I woke my son to confirm what I was thinking.  

My thoughts went quickly to our officers, so I made my way to the police department. Flags were in every patrol car window.  I talked to a number of our employees.  I felt restless, like I should be doing something to assist with what was going on back East.  My first duty was to my home department.

Eventually, five chaplains from our group, including police and fire, went to New York the first week of December. (I'm on the far left in the red shirt.)                              

I have many stories to share, but  I refer you to my book, *SENT TO SERVE...THE CHAPLAINS OF 9/11.  It's a book about chaplains and what they do every day in your community, promoting a spirit of volunteerism and a message of hope.  If you like visuals, it has pictures!

It was a privilege to assist in NYC.  Check out this video on our local CBS affiliate about my time there. 

Many struggle with how to commemorate 9/11.  Perhaps that includes you.  While serving in NYC, I saw a poster on a bulletin board at a police precinct.  The NYPD was hosting a blood drive in honor of fallen officers.  When I returned to Oregon, I thought, "We should have such a drive at our department."  This coming 9/11 will be our 16th consecutive year! We say, "Give blood to honor those who gave their lives."  I spoke with a young mom.  She said, "I've never known what to do with 9/11.  This drive gives me purpose and context to remember this day."

I hope you find something to do this Patriot Day.  Perhaps volunteering or serving others.  Maybe pay it forward to a stranger or someone in your own family.  Each 9/11 from now on, you'll know what to do with 9/11.

*My book, SENT TO SERVE ... THE CHAPLAINS OF 9/11, is available on Amazon.

 

The Disneyland Effect

 

Looking for America 250

We just got back from a family vacation to Disneyland.  By "we," I'm talking about our son and daughter-in-law, and their two kids.  They wanted the kids to experience having their MeMaw and BePaw share the experience with them.  Did we ever share the experience with them?  It was quite a push for our bodies to cooperate (after all, I'm old enough to have had coffee with Walt Disney himself!).

I noticed something about the crowd walking around the place.  Most were friendly and seemed to go out of their way to be nice, as you would expect at the happiest place on earth. Amid all this goodwill, I had a surprise.  C.S. Lewis wrote SURPRISED BY JOY.  I was surprised by grief.  As we were going through the line at Flight Across California, I was telling some interesting facts about the photos displaying the history of aviation.  I asked them to look for a photo of the world's largest wooden plane, the Spruce Goose. My dear friend, Dr. Lloyd Mitchell, was on the team that engineered the hydraulic system for the massive plane. Sure enough, we found it.  I also saw a biplane and explained how my dad flew in one of those early contraptions.  As a boy, he had a deal with a local biplane pilot.  For every 10 paying customers he got to ride in the plane, he would be given a free ride.

Then it hit me.  I felt this sudden surge of grief.  I could feel it coming, but could not stop it.  I tried to fight the tears because of frequent nosebleeds.  The tears won.  I used all I had to stop the grief of my father and eventually made it to the ride.  I thought that was behind me, but as we left, the grief came back in a fury.  There was no stopping the flood as I moved ahead of my family and turned my back on the crowd.  That is when this late middle-aged woman came up to me.  

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked with such concern in her eyes.

"That last ride triggered this deep hurt of grief," I replied. 

By that time, my family realized something was happening and moved in to help.  The woman faded away.  I wish I could see her again to thank her for her compassion.

Why did people care so much for each other at Disneyland?  It was an artificially controlled environment.  Everyone was there to have safe fun.  You could leave a stroller or wheelchair parked with your belongings in it as you went on a ride.  

I lived in a similar environment in New York City following the terrorist attack in 2001.  I was a recovery worker (see footnote). That attack brought people together like a caring family.  The unimportant, small things didn't matter.  Caring for each other did.  It is no surprise that I felt culture shock when returning home near Portland, OR.  People were still more involved in their own world than in caring about Americans on the other side of the country.  Soon, the waving flags would disappear, and it would be business as usual.

Does it have to take tragedy to bring people together?  Perhaps if we make an effort to care for those around us, we could make this country and world a better place.  The truth is that we need to embrace the Prince of Peace.  He is the Prince of lasting peace.  In the Bible, the Book of St. John, chapter 14, verse 27, Jesus said:

        "I am leaving you with a gift--peace of mind and heart.  And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don't be troubled or afraid."  (John 14:27 NLT).

And...

"So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other.  Just as I have loved you, you should love each other.  Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples." (John 13:24-35 NLT).

Are you searching for a better America?  

I encourage you to invite the Prince of Peace into your heart and life.

  

*Learn more about my experience by reading my book, "Sent to Serve...The Chaplains of 9/11"

THE POWER OF SYMBOLS

When someone in the US is learning to drive, they must memorize traffic signs and learn the mechanics of driving.  The symbols on those signs are very important.  If one doesn’t follow them, they may cause an accident and end up in a serious predicament (like the man who didn’t obey the “Road Closed” sign and drove into a foot of fresh cement on an off-ramp). and even receive a heavy fine from a law enforcement officer.

What would happen if road symbols were suddenly changed and drivers didn’t know what they meant?  You might end up in chaos.

Sometimes people or groups steal symbols.  One example is the rainbow:

Many recognize it as the symbol of the LGBTQ+ movement.  Guess where they got it from?  For Christians, the origin is taken from the Bible as: 

A Sign of Peace showing that God would never again flood the earth.

A Reminder for God and Humanity: The text states, "I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth." [Genesis 9:13]. It acts as a visible, physical reminder of God's faithfulness to His creation. For me, when I see a rainbow, I’m thankful.  I am thankful for God’s goodness, grace, and mercy that He has shown me.

Below is another symbol that hasn’t been stolen, but misinterpreted:

The Thin Blue Line flag is a symbol of pride and honor. It originated in the United Kingdom.  It is to commemorate fallen law enforcement officers and symbolize the relationship between law enforcement and the community.  The black stripes are a constant reminder of the fallen brother and sister officers. The blue line in the center represents the officer and their courage.  The black stripe immediately above the blue line represents the public. The line just under the blue line represents crime.  The blue line stands between the two black lines, a metaphor for standing between the public, protecting them from crime and danger.

Different thin line flags represent others who serve us, including fire, EMS, forestry, dispatch, etc.

The thin blue line flag is a noble cause and symbol.  The current narrative claims this as a racist symbol to SOME.  The SOME are saying to this flag, “We know better than you what you stand for.”  Really?

In the U.S., we believe in the freedom of expression only if it fits the current narrative.  I live in the Portland, Oregon area.  It is considered a very liberal city (ex. “Keep Portland Weird”).  We had a small decal on a car window, showing support for fallen officers.  My wife parked in a public lot.  When she got home, I noticed the decal had been hit with something, and the window had shattered.  We can’t support officers who have died in the line of duty!  A Sheriff’s Deputy told me, “You probably shouldn’t fly your Thin Blue Line flag at home.  It may not be safe.”  This is America, right?

In many ways, symbols have become confusing because people look at them subjectively and decide what they want them to mean.  Check this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0QvUwxndzs&t=253s. 

In the movie “What About Bob?”, starring Richard Dreyfus (Dr. Leo Marvin) and Bill Murray (Bob), Dreyfus is a psychiatrist, and Murray is a mental health client.  Dr. Marvin drops Bob off at a mental health facility, but his college calls him back to say there is nothing clinically wrong with him.  Bob is found in the library telling the staff this story: 

“There was this Doc who was showing a patient various Rorschach ink blots.  He asked, ‘What do you see? Patient says, “Sex.”  How about this one? “Sex.”  Okay, what about this one?  “Sex.” The Doctor says, “Sex, sex, sex.  Your problem is sex!  Client replies, “You are the one with the problem.  You have the dirty pictures.”

Why are symbols important?  They identify a group or movement.  It’s a way for people to express themselves.  Freedom of expression is vital to the rights of all Americans.  Let’s let others have their interpretation of their own symbols of expression, as long as they let others do the same and don’t resort to violence. We may not agree with them, but we should respect their right to other ideas and beliefs.  That is the American way.

Journey Reminders

Have you, like me, come across something that reminds you of an event or person on your journey?  It happened to me…again.  We live in the Pacific Northwest, where it rains a lot.  I grabbed an umbrella from the car to go into the house.  Later, I was putting it away, and I saw on the bottom of the handle “Mr. J.”  That is what my middle school students called me when I was teaching many years ago.  Just as dominoes tip over and contact the next in line, that umbrella brought memories back to me.  It nudged me to remember other memories.  My first thought when I saw “Mr. J.” on that handle was my eldest son.  I taught history, and a year after I left the school, my son took over teaching the same topic in the same room.  What did they call him?  Yep, “Mr. J.”  The first time I substituted for him, a student came up and asked, “Are you the original Mr. J.?”  My name had been stolen, or at least borrowed. 

One day, while I was subbing, a student came up to me and asked, “Mr. J., how old are you?”  I smiled and said, “I’m so old that when I was born, the Dead Sea was only sick." His eyes got big as he exclaimed, “Wow!” (If you heard that joke before, you’re better off than my poor wife, who hears them repeatedly. It’s a small sacrifice to be married to me). I smile as I think about that encounter, and I am grateful to have many more.

Life is a mixed bag; sometimes the memories are sad or difficult.  I call those “The Growing Kind.” 

Reminders can trigger us, especially in grief.  It could be a sight, sound, smell, or even touch. When the stories are good, we sometimes like to have a physical item to help us remember.  They are part of our collective story. 

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What about you?  Do you see reminders occasionally that bring back memories?  Care to share one with our readers?  Just email me, Wally, at journeyintostory@gmail.com.  500-700 words.  I’ll get back to you if we can use your story.

 

FOUNDATIONS OF INDEPENDENCE

I grew up in an inexpensive house.  I knew we were poor when we visited my Uncle Dave.  They lived in a beautiful two-story home with immaculate furnishings.  The style of our furniture was Early Goodwill.  My father and a friend built an addition onto the kitchen.  At the time, it looked big, but it didn’t look so big when I came back as an adult.    

Many of you may have seen the Canadian comedy show, “Red Green.”  Red fixed everything with duct tape.  My dad fixed everything with Liquid Nails.  It often didn’t look that pretty, but was sometimes functional.

The house had a forbidden corner.  It was where a water pump once stood, so the floor sagged in that corner.  It wasn’t good for anything except storing bathroom linens.  My dad would say, “You kids don’t get too close to that corner, you might fall in!”  We were scared to get near it, except to retrieve a bath towel and wash cloth.  I would stand at some distance and reach as far as I could without falling into that chasm where I would disappear for all eternity.  If you ever dropped any change in the kitchen, it would probably roll down there, and the rescue of that coin wasn’t worth the danger.

Fast forward to the present.  We bought a house that had problems we weren’t aware of.  The house is not level!  Our ground is clay near a drainage ditch.  When it rains, the clay acts like a sponge, expanding the foundation.  Now, if a friend falls indoors, we only have to go to the Northeast corner of the room to find where they rolled.  Well, it’s not that bad, but you get the point.

FOUNDATIONS ARE IMPORTANT for houses and for nations.  Friday is Independence Day in the U.S. Our nation has certain foundational principles and ideas.  Those principles came from four basic sources.   The four major influences were ancient thought, Enlightenment philosophy, the English tradition, and Protestant Christianity.  (1) Ancient world thinkers and their failures taught the Founders a lot when constructing the American republic.   (2) Enlightenment thinkers emphasized that the people should rule themselves through a limited government that would protect natural rights and secure the liberties of the people.  (3) The British protected basic rights, such as the right to trial by jury, property rights, and no taxation without consent. The government would be limited, especially the monarchy. (4) The writings associated with the Protestant Reformation emphasized individual liberty from civil and religious oppression. Protestant ideas, based on Scripture, of resistance against tyranny were generally consistent with the other three strains of republican thought. (For further reading on this, click here.)

If you start to erode any of these four building blocks of the foundation of America, it causes instability.  If enough is chipped away, the nation can fall.  The one area that has most eroded is the Biblical principles because they are the easiest to attack and misinterpret.  We have gone on a witch hunt for Christian teachings that were used to build our original foundation.  After all, it was Jesus who told the story about the foolish man who built his house on a foundation of sand.  The winds and rain came, and the house was destroyed.  The wise man built his house upon a rock, and it withstood all that came against it. (Matthew 7:24-27).  We know how we built our foundation.  If we let it erode, we only have ourselves to blame.

As we consider these things, let’s be thankful for the wisdom of our founding fathers.  They gave us a great start. It is our responsibility to preserve it. 

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!

Language As Story

My new neighbor, Joel, owns a construction business.  He has a wife and three girls.  They are Hispanic.  All of his workers speak Spanish, with half being bilingual in English.  I am bilingual, and I speak Hoosier.  At the end of the workday, they huddle at his house to talk about the day and shoot the breeze.  I like to venture over to tell them a story or a joke.  They listen to me because I often give them some mint candy.  The great part is the punch line. At that point, the bilingual guys laugh. That’s the first wave.  Then they tell the others in Spanish.  That is the second wave. Not every comedian gets a two-wave laugh.

In college, I had a choice of taking Greek or Spanish.  I felt Spanish would be more practical.  What a year that was!  It was a struggle for me and at times it made me frustrated.  Do you know how far a Spanish-language book flies across a room?  It would have gone further if it hadn’t hit the wall.  It was probably at that time that I learned to cuss in Spanish!  I shouldn’t complain.  Most people say English is the most difficult to learn.  English doesn’t make sense.  They have different rules that contradict each other.  One word means many things and we have idioms. 

Language is a gift.  Without it, our stories could not be shared unless we used stick figures. That would leave much to be desired. Kind of like a Rorschach ink psychological test.  That’s the test where they show what looks like ink spilled on paper, then ask you what comes to your mind. People have different ideas as to its meaning.  Have you seen the movie, “What About Bob?,” starring Bill Murray. He is in a mental hospital, sitting on a cafeteria table with several patients and staff around him. 

“I saw a doctor who showed me an ink spot and asked me, “What comes to your mind?”

I said, “sex.”

He showed me another. “Sex.”

A third time, “sex.”

The Doc announced, “It seems you have a problem with sex?”

I told him, “You’re the one with the dirty pictures.” 

Some may think that God didn’t do any favors when he destroyed the tower of Babel and caused people to speak different languages, yet the nuance of the language brings such wonder and beauty to a story.

You can tell a story in a different language, but it doesn’t seem to have the same effect.

My wife and I are from different galaxies. We communicate differently. I’ve often thought we should try out Google Translate to get our ideas across, but I don’t think it works. “No comprenda.”

Language is important to storytelling.  I have gained an appreciation for stories through the ones that communicate, and translate them.

CHRISTMAS WITH A PURPOSE

 

https://pixabay.com/users/gustavorezende-1488336/

Each Christmas time, we kids in the neighborhood would go caroling.  It was a fun and constructive time, and it got us out of our parents' hair.  We lived up in Indiana near Lake Michigan, so there was snow and cold.  Often, when we performed at a neighbor's house, they would give us candy, cookies, or hot cocoa.  We appreciated the cocoa. It kept us going to our next gig. 

One year, we heard about a family from France who moved into the neighborhood at Christmas time.  They were professionals in balancing and juggling.  They had recently appeared on the Bozo the Clown TV show.  We also heard they were on hard times.  The cost of moving and little work added up to a sparse Christmas.

We had an idea.  When we went caroling, we could ask for money for this family rather than the other treats.  We collected a big chunk of change and got the goodies anyway.

We planned our last stop at the French family's rental home.  They opened the door very cautiously.  As we began to sing, they opened the door wider.  They enjoyed the music and the very idea that we would come and sing to them made them smile.  After we finished with, “We Wish You A Merry Christmas,” we handed them the card with the gift funds.  They had smiles and tears.  Their gratitude was evident, even with the language barrier.

Somehow, it didn’t seem so cold outside as we made our way back home.  I’m sure it was the warmth we felt in our hearts as we gave to others in need.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE

Be sure to leave a light on for us!

Please...consider sharing your own Christmas story.  Click the pencil below to reply.

 

 

CAR CONNECTIONS

 I have driven different types of cars over the years.  Most of my cars were either given to me, or I bought used.  Used cars come with a certain activity we call “repair.”  

My Dad was old enough to have learned to drive in a Model T Ford, most likely the one with a crank start.  He didn’t keep up with the times.  When my wife and I were first married, we drove a car her father gave us as a wedding present.  When my dad got into it, he exclaimed, “With all of these knobs and contraptions, how can you make this thing go!”  Trust me, it was a standard model from the 1960s or ‘70s.  By the old standards, the cars of today look like the control panels in a rocket ship!

My Dad was a Rambler car man.  His first Rambler was a 1960 American.  I never understood his fascination with them.  Our air conditioning was a 4-40 (4 windows down while going 40 miles per hour.) When it was time for Dad to buy me a car, you guessed it…a Rambler.  We pulled up the front of the seller’s place, he said, “Now that’s the car for you!”  I knew I was going to get stuck with it, but I had no choice…he was buying.  It was a stick shift on the column station wagon.  Later, I bought my car, a Chevy Belair.  I was moving up in the world.

My older brother, Dave, was the mechanic in the family.  I never bothered to learn to work on cars, I had him around until I headed off for college and seminary.  It was time to learn something about car repair.  This was pre-YouTube, so I had to rely on a printed repair manual.  I think my first adventure was replacing brake pads and shoes.  With the mission accomplished, I had fellow students saying, “Hey, I hear you work on cars.”  “Sort of” I replied.  I was willing to take a stab at other repairs, under the condition they bought a repair manual and any tool I needed to get the job done.  That is how my tool inventory began.  Fifty years later, I’m still helping others with repairs.  I recently worked on a car belonging to my friend from Tanzania, Africa.  

Cars seem to take on the characteristics of their owners like couples who grow old and start to look like each other.  I guess you can tell a lot about a person by seeing how they decorate and treat their automobiles.  We also associate certain vehicles with people we know.  Before they get close, I know who is coming.  Sometimes, I only know new neighbors by their vehicles.  Next door is “White Van.”

I see my friend, Dean, every few years.  Out of the blue, he wants to go to breakfast.  Last week he picked me up.  I wasn’t sure what vehicle he was driving.  He sent me a text, “I’ll be there in a few.  Wear a jacket.”  While I was standing outside waiting, I saw this nice, new black pickup as it turned the corner.  He looked like he was going to pull over.  I took one step forward and he continued.  Coming from the other direction was Dean, driving a blue shoe box on wheels, with no windows.  Hence, a need for a jacket.

Cars can be a gift of encouragement.  While living in Santa Monica, California, I served on a church staff.  I held a Bible study for employees of City Hall.  I started this with my friend, Jim.  Jim knew I didn’t make much money.  Perhaps he learned about the time I pulled up by City Hall.  While parking the car, it started to roll back.  Some officers came to my rescue.  I said, “Hold it,” while I reached under the seat to grab a brick and place it under a wheel.  I said, “Sorry.  My emergency brake doesn’t work, so I use this emergency brick.”  One of the officers replied, “Chaplain, you need a new car.”  I couldn’t agree more, and that is where my friend Jim comes in.  He asked me, “Are you taking a vacation this summer?”  I said, “Well, we are just going to stick close to home.  Maybe a day trip.”  The next week at Bible study, he handed me a check and said, “I had a used car I was going to sell and felt the Lord wanted you to have this to help you out.”  We had that vacation.

A lot of memories are created in cars.  As a family, we usually took a driving vacation each summer.  In doing so, we had some wonderful experiences of seeing many of the U.S. States.  Jim, my kid brother, and I had some great adventures.  

The most important things in life are experiences.  We didn’t have to have a lot of money for us neighborhood kids to ride with my dad on a fishing or camping adventure.

What memories do you associate with or without cars?  Consider sending them in so others can enjoy the good times with you.  Send an email to journeyintostory@google.com. 

 

THE EXPENSE OF INDEPENDENCE

 

Today is Independence Day, for those living in the United States.    John Adams wanted July 2nd to be the official start of our nation since the Declaration of Independence was ratified on July 2, 1776.  Here is what he said;

“[Independence Day] will be the most memorable Epoch, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival… It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade with shows, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this continent to the other from this Time forward forever more,”

 What words come to your mind when you hear, "The Fourth of July?" Fireworks, ice cream, parades, cook outs, etc.  Probably few of us think of "sacrifice."  Yet without it our nation would not have come into existence.  

Someone in our family's past sacrificed for us to have a free America.  Who was it for you?  We are a land of immigrants.  Some, like myself, had people here from the beginning.  My 10th great grandparents came over on the Mayflower in 1620 and my 5th great grandfather William P. Johnston, fought in the Revolutionary War.  Some may be newcomers to our country.  Maybe you are the one who sacrificed for your family.  The problem, it's not a "One-and-Done."  Once our freedoms were established, we have to keep fighting to protect those freedoms.

The Founding Fathers disagreed on many things, but they knew compromises were needed to see the work of freedom happen.  Our nation has revealed growing pains through the years.  With those pains have come division (just look at the Civil War).  Siblings can have some painful fights, but if an outsider threatens, they pull together.  We saw this in most of our wars and even 9/11.  

In 1858 when Abraham Lincoln was running for the U.S. Senate, he gave his "House Divided Speech. In it he said, in part, "A house divided against itself, cannot stand," in reference to Jesus' words in the Bible.

Replica of Lincoln Inaugural Bible, (C) 2024 Wally Johnston

In many ways, we are divided today, at least if you read social media and the news.  Personally, I don't think the division is as bad as it appears, but it is divided.  If the divide gets too large, our "house" will fall.  With that in mind, what are you willing to sacrifice to save this great nation?

SEEK TO UNDERSTAND

Seek To Understand

By Cate Arnold (c) 2016

While I was quietly re-elected to City Council in November, 2016, the angst over the presidential race was loud, angry and full of accusations. The attacks on conservatives versus liberals, Republicans versus Democrats, government employees, and so many “others” continue to rage.

My mother taught me the importance of the words: “Seek first to understand, then to be understood.” She taught me the importance of caring for family and community. She was impeccable – not perfect, but someone who desired health and happiness not only for my siblings and our own families and friends, but for our fellow human beings.

Seek to understand: can we gather accurate information about what’s happening in the moment? For instance, I was talking to a gentleman who said that we can’t fix our roads because politicians are wasting our money. I explained that over the years, we’ve had serious structural changes: a huge decrease in the federal funds available to build new roads, massive expenses for maintenance of the roads we’ve already built, and static fuel tax rates while construction costs rise every year, including some years of double-digit inflation for inputs like asphalt and land costs. Replacing politicians doesn’t change these conditions.

We must have the patience and wisdom to understand the lands that we live in. Only accurate physical accounting gives us what we need to find solutions. Only by understanding our structures can we devise solutions and find better ways towards a better world for those coming behind us.

I hope to start a new movement, the Impeccable Moms’ Movement. What would an Impeccable Mom do? Get to know the people and lands we live in, understand and work with others in spite of our faults, spend our hours caring for our communities rather than attacking others, expect accurate and honest information about what we face; and face our problems head on together with integrity, respect, kindness, and hope.

Cate Arnold is one of those people you want to talk to.  She has her own story and is willing to share it, but she loves hearing other people’s stories.  She is bright, educated, and down-to-earth. To see what she thinks is most important for Beaverton, OR, look at 3 Essentials on www.cate4beaverton.com. To contact her, send your phone number to cate4beaverton@gmail.com

 

  

CIRCLE OF FRIENDS

 

I had a tight circle of neighborhood friends when I was growing up.  I was part of a trio of three best friends.  We played ball, fished, camped, and made up adventures together.  Both were at our wedding (more about them later).

I learned to appreciate my circle of siblings later in life.  There is quite an age difference between us.  Only three remain out of six kids: Karol, Jim, and yours truly.  Jim and I had our little brother, big brother stuff. Once at dinner, he said he had an upset tummy, was dismissed, then ran out to play ball. I knew he was faking, so I  ran after him and yelled, "You Faker," while hitting him over the head. We survived and we are good adult friends.  Karol has stood by me during difficult times. What can I say?  I love my Sis.

Friends come wrapped in different surprise packages.  Doug and I got together over our differences regarding climate change. I could call him an "Alarmist," and he could call me a "Denier."  Neither is accurate.  That subject is long past.  We now share many things, including prayers for each other. 

I'm at the age where I keep losing people.  Our bodies wear out, much like clothing.  I have my favorite shirts and wear them over and over.  Each time they are washed, fibers of the fabric come off and end up in the lint trap.   I clean the screen and toss the lint away, and regrettably, I have to pitch my favored shirts when they wear out.  Slowly, and sometimes quickly, our bodies break down until there isn't anything left. 

Soon, my wife and I celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary (Applause!).  While waiting for our meal at a restaurant, we decided to imagine we were at a huge round table with family and friends who had made an impact on our lives. (Disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list, but I want you to stay with me).  My earliest friends were Dale and Mike, the other two of the tight trio. neighbors on our dead-end street.  These are the friends you take everywhere you go, though miles separate.  Grandma Frye was a special friend.  She wasn’t my grandma, but a neighbor who lived across the alley from us.  She lived in a garage apartment next to her son’s home.  When I visited, she had a treat and would tell me Bible stories and listen to Billy Graham on the radio.  It was a place I could go to be a child.

Where we live now, we have a neighborhood "Mayor" named Bill.  He's the go-to guy to discover the latest gossip, I mean news.  I'm the "Cop."  I keep my eyes on the neighborhood.  My wife is the "Person of Peace" who learns about the concerns of our neighbors and does something about it, with the permission of the Mayor and the Cop (who agree if they want peace in the neighborhood).  In reality, everyone in the hood has a role and a story.  We are a loosely connected circle that becomes a tighter circle when the need arises.  

We belong to other circles outside the neighborhood.  They make a constellation in our lives that makes our universe better and happier. 

(What Circle of Friends do you have?  Please share YOUR story by clicking on the pencil icon below).  

 

     

   

     

Points Of Commonality

 In new social environments, we tend to start conversations with something we have in common:  weather.  Eventually, we talk our way through sports, the economy, etc.  If we are smart, we won’t talk politics (did you know politics comes from two words: “poly”, meaning “many,” and “ticks” are blood-sucking creatures!).

Covid is another such topic of commonality.  Everyone has been impacted by the pandemic, either physically, financially, or around school and job changes. School kids many years from now will talk about their shared experience of Zoom education and disruption of person-to-person relationships.  I think my grandkids will remain close later on because they were each other's only playmates during the pandemic.

 You have probably heard of six degrees of separation.  (See below.)

The idea is to choose anyone to find a connection to others.  How about Abraham Lincoln? Let’s say you and I have just met and have shaken hands.  The story goes that my great-grandfather shook hands with Mr. Lincoln.  If I start with you (#1), you shake my hand (#2).  I shook my dad’s hand (#3), who in turn shook his father’s hand (#4).  My great-grandfather (#5) met Lincoln (#6) when he was reviewing the troops at Harrison’s Landing, Virginia.  So, I shook the hand that shook, that shook the hand of President Lincoln. Six degrees of separation.

As President Lincoln was reviewing the troops at the Berkley Plantation, Harrison's Landing, VA, in 1862, a history of my great-grandfather's regiment states:

    

"As President Lincoln passed along the front of the lines he was preceded by Gen. McClellan.  He was dressed in the costume familiar to the people by his portraits and his angular, attenuated figure seemed intensified by the high stovepipe hat he wore.  The men had but a glimpse of his features as his horse was moving at a brisk trot, but the glimpse was sufficient to make a lasting impression..."

Based on this statement, it is doubtful that my great-grandfather shook his hand, but the tradition of the handshake continues down the generations.  Maybe he had a chance later?

Below is a copy of a painting that covered the event.

Sometimes our stories launch a similar thought or experience that we have in common with others.  As a student, I represented my college.  I traveled to various locations in my role.  In one place I stayed, I told a joke to a high school student.  He in turn remembered a joke that related to mine, and the cycle began.  We spent numerous hours trying to be funny. Joking was our point of commonality.

We live in a time that separates people, especially politically.  Rather than focus on what we don't agree on, we should look for what we have in common. We may have more in common than we think.  Make it a point to find that commonality in others and discover connection. You may find some interesting people in your “six degrees of separation,” or is it “six degrees of connection?”

NEW YEAR FISH!

As we approach a New Year, we may think things don't look too promising.  If we only look at the news, we will get a very negative view of things.  It seems like people's enthusiasm has dwindled. What would happen if we shared some enthusiasm in 2024?  What might it look like?

My wife and I were on our way to visit my new hematologist.  His office is in the Doernbecher Children's Hospital in Portland, OR.  It is certainly a different atmosphere than one finds in a typical doctor's visit.  While walking down the halls, you see children and families everywhere, along with multi-colored decals on the walls.  Each nurse's station was identified by a certain animal.  We walked past elephants, giraffes, lions, etc.  I don't remember what my station was, but knowing my luck it was a laughing hyena!

There was this beautiful large aquarium.  When we walked by, a little girl, with great enthusiasm yelled "Fish!"  She didn't want us to miss it.  Apparently, she didn't want anyone else to miss it either. Everyone who walked by got the same enthusiastic message.

I can't get that little girl out of my head.  Now, throughout my day, I yell, "Fish!"  My wife has even caught on!  Try it.  Whenever you need enthusiasm, think of this story and yell, "Fish!"  It sounds so simple, but what it can do to lift your spirit and get excited about something is amazing! It is contagious. Spread the "Fish!"

‘Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement,’ writes Rabbi Abraham Heschel because ‘everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.’*

*This phrase is used by Julian E. Zelizer in Abraham Joshua Heschel: A Life of Radical Amazement, (Yale University Press, 2022) p.88

HAPPY ENTHUSIASTIC NEW YEAR!

How Do I Say This?

 If you are a follower of this blog, you know the posts have not come out on a regular basis.  That was not my intention, however, there is something you should know.  I have some chronic health conditions that make it impossible for me to get things done in a timely fashion.  I have decided to rethink this blog.  I need to have at least 6 posts ready for publication before I start publishing again.  That will make it easier for me to handle and hopefully you will be able to depend on a weekly post.

Another goal I had was more comments from you, the readers.  I wanted it to be a place to share our stories. Your story is important and I believe others should hear it.  So please share! Just click on the pencil icon at the bottom of each post.

I would appreciate your prayers and thoughts for me.  They will be greatly needed and appreciated.  You can also drop me a line at journeyintostory@gmail.com.

In the meantime, weary traveler, enjoy this song below.

Until then,

Wally Johnston

Cough Drop Encouragement

Sometimes we miss the little things around us because they are always around. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Once, I was looking for my eyeglasses. I was looking everywhere except the one obvious place. Yep, I was wearing them!

Here is an example. Nearly everyday I have at least one Hall's cough drop. I popped one in my mouth and, being a little bored, I started reading the cough drop wrapper. Of all the years I’ve used Halls honey-lemon cough drops, I had no idea they had little phrases of encouragement! Seriously. I had a little difficulty reading the small print. I would need a seeing eye dog to tell me what it said. (Okay, I just used a magnifying glass). Here are some examples:

“Take ‘Can do” into ‘Can did.’” “You’ve survived tougher.” “Nothing you can’t handle.” “Tough is you middle name.” Here’s one for shoplifters- “Its’s yours for the taking.” “You can do it, and you know it.” “Power through” “You’ve survived tougher.” “March forward.” “Get back in there Champ.” “Flex your Can Do muscle.” “Buckle down and push forward.” “Elicit a few ‘Wows’ today.” “Be resilient.” “A pep talk in every drop.” “Hi five yourself.”

One of my favorite programs on CBS News is “Steve Hartman--On the Road.” He finds stories of encouragement and community spirit. On one of his recent shows, he featured elementary school children who offer an encouragement hotline. The students offer one line advice. Check it out below:

The question is: Where do you find your encouragement? If you are lacking in that department, try encouraging others. Before long, you find your attitude lifting and will make some new friends along the way.

(c) Wally Johnston 2023

Fake Thanksgiving News Uncovered By Native Americans (Updated)

William White

This will be the first Thanksgiving I’ll celebrate knowing that my 10th great-grandfather, William White, was a Mayflower passenger and signed the Mayflower Compact.  He died that first winter, so my 10Th great-grandmother was there for the first celebration.

There is a lot of fake news we learned in school that wasn’t accurate about that so-called “First Thanksgiving.”  Here is what I learned from the Wampanoag, the Indians who helped the Pilgrims.

“…most people do not know about the first Thanksgiving because the Wampanoag and Pilgrims did not sit down for a big turkey dinner and it was not an event that the Wampanoag knew about or were invited to in advance.” (Tim Turner, Cherokee, manager of Plimoth Plantation’s Wampanoag Homesite.)

The Pilgrims sent out four hunters in the morning who brought back an abundance of fowl (could have been turkey, but who knows).  Besides feasting, the men had target practice with their flintlocks.  The natives were alerted and set out to ensure the Pilgrims were not under attack.  That was when the Wampanoag invited or co-hosted themselves to the festivities.  Massasoit, the Chief, sent out a team who brought back five deer to add to the meal.  Fortunately, he did, because the number of Indians was two to three times the size of the settlers.

The food included venison, seafood, waterfowl (not to mention of turkey), maize bread, pumpkin (not pumpkin pie), and other squash.

The natives later did not look at Thanksgiving as a celebration, but as a day of mourning because of their treatment at the hands of the white man.

“At noon on every Thanksgiving Day, hundreds of Native people from around the country gather at Cole's Hill, which overlooks Plymouth Rock, for the National Day of Mourning. It is an annual tradition started in 1970 when Wampanoag Wamsutta (Frank) James was invited by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts to give a speech at an event celebrating the 350th anniversary of the Pilgrims’ arrival and then disinvited after the event organizers discovered his speech was one of outrage over the “atrocities” and “broken promises” his people endured.”

Frank James was supposed to address the crowd at the 350th anniversary of the Pilgrims' arrival, but the organizers learned what he would share from the Indian perspective. They canceled him.  The message he was supposed to give contained this statement:

“This action by Massasoit was perhaps our biggest mistake. We, the Wampanoag, welcomed you, the white man, with open arms, little knowing that it was the beginning of the end.”

 

I certainly understand their feelings, but I have learned that it’s best to not look back at all of the injustice done to us.  Letting go of the injustice in my life has freed me to enjoy life better.  Take, for example, my friend Donna.  She is Japanese American and was born in a relocation camp that the government were so kind to set up after telling them they had to leave their homes and businesses within six days.  These were American citizens who were unjustly treated.  Many of the Nisai Japanese were bitter over their plight.  Donna’s parents  tried to put a positive spin on things and make the best of the situation.  After their release, the family had to start over again.  They worked hard and were steller American citizens.  Donna and all of her siblings went to college, earned degrees, and had a career. 

As I was watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, I saw a float made by the Wapanoag Indian tribe whose ancestors had to put up with the mistreatment of the white man at Plymoth.  The chiefs were smiling and waving at the crowd.  Apparently not all Wapenoag descendants view the Plymouth setters in the same way.  Some forgave and moved on.  This is not to say we should ignore injustice, but as time passes, we do ourselves a favor by forgiving and living a productive life.

Regardless of what historical view we have of Thanksgiving, the idea is for us to be grateful for what we have.  I know I am.