Do Talk To Strangers

In November 2014, two children belonging to Alexander and Danielle Meltiv were picked up by police officers while walking home from a park a third of a mile from their home at 5 p.m. The authorities did not contact the parents about the whereabouts of their kids until three hours later and would only release the children into their custody after they had signed a "temporary safety plan" promising not to leave their children unattended.[1]

There is a big problem with perception vs reality in the United States today. I'm talking now, specifically, about the misinformed and idiotic trend toward reporting, arresting, and charging parents with child endangerment for allowing their kids to play outside unsupervised. Given the reality of the risks involved, this embarrassing state of affairs constitutes a true tyranny of ignoramuses in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

In the US, a child aged 14 or younger is more likely to die of a sudden, unexpected heart attack than to be abducted by a stranger. We have 60 million kids in this age group[2] and, in the latest year of compiled statistics, 115 of them were abducted by strangers.[3] That works out to a 0.00019% chance that, in a given year, a child aged 14 or younger will be abducted by a stranger. In fact, you are more likely to find a child dead of accidental drowning in a bathtub than you are to have him or her abducted by a stranger in any given year.

The most laughable (and tragic) misunderstanding of these odds is that many people feel that exposure to society is more dangerous for kids today than it was 20, 30, or 40 years ago. But this is not the case. From 1990 to 2007, for instance, "substantiated cases of child sexual abuse have declined 53% and physical abuse substantiations have declined 52%."[4] Rape, attempted or completed, against children fell a further 43% from 2003 to 2011.[5]

I could launch here into an exposition about why more people today are more likely to imagine that American society is more dangerous than it was in previous decades. But I'm not going to do that. It would only give a false air of legitimacy to the perpetrators of this trend. In the end, it is an uninteresting mystery to solve -- in the face of the active curtailment of liberty that is going on due to the breathless intervention of uninformed busy-bodies.

It really just comes down to this for parents: are you going to be influenced more by the true facts of the world or by fear of looking bad to people who are going to judge you regardless of how well you take care of your children? And to law enforcement, the courts, and the various child protective services agencies out there we need to say, "Enough is enough." What happened to the Meltiv family in Maryland should never happen to any family.

[1] Slate.com story about the Maltivs
[2] 2013 US population numbers by age range, US Census Bureau
[3] May 2013 Washington Post opinion piece by the director of the Crimes Against Children Research Center at the University of New Hamshire
[4] Trends in Childhood Victimization, Crimes Against Children Research Center, University of New Hamshire
[5] Free Range Kids.com crime statistics page

Celebrating My Mother's Life, 26 Years After Her Death

26 years ago on a Friday the 13th, I was at a rehearsal for a Christmas play at Jimmy Swaggart Bible College in Baton Rouge, Louisiana when the Dean of Male Students interrupted us to escort me back to his office. Nothing could have prepared me for that call from my sister, informing me that our mother, Norma Jean "Stormy" Falor, had died.

She was a fighter. She was a crier, She waited tables to put herself through secretary school after dropping out of high school to elope with her sweetheart in the Air Force and then facing the disappointment of divorce It was as a waitress that she met my father. After getting a break to join the steno pool at Toledo Edison, she worked her way up all the way to Executive Secretary to the President. (All while helping my dad produce his Masters thesis.) When John Williamson would fret and fume over corporate difficulties, she would take him by the arm and lead him to the glass walls of his 15th-story office, point to the streets of downtown Toledo below, and say, "Look at all those people walking around down there, Mr. Williamson, just as if the world weren't coming to an end!"

When I was born, the doctor had to inform her of my heart defect, warning her that I might not make it to infancy when surgery would be possible. She looked him in the eye and said, "Bet me!" She made many mistakes, some of which (drinking and smoking) drove me from her home and put her in an early grave. But none of that can ever blot out my admiration of her, my gratitude for all she was and did for me, or the sweet sorrow I feel that she did not live to see me come into my own and lead an extraordinary life.

I've lived more years, now, without her in this world than with her. Yet the memories and the love remain strong. I know she would be proud of me. The occasion of today's anniversary gives me the opportunity to express publicly, "I'm proud of you, Mom and I celebrate the brief, dazzling spark that was your life."

On American Exceptionalism

Once again, this time during a civil war in Syria, atrocities perpetrated by some group or other have roused sentiments that "America had ought to do something" about the situation. It has taken the surprise wisdom of an an internationally acknowledged tyrant and thug, published in a US newspaper, to give us all pause from our rush to near-unilateral military intervention. A major point of the published thesis is that America's exceptionalist self-image poses a threat to lasting world peace.

Oh for the days when we were not a so-called "Superpower". The decades -- well over a century if they were gathered up and packed together -- when we meddled with and aggressed only the unlucky other governments that happened to inhabit the land now known as the Continental United States. Even when our aggressiveness began spilling beyond those borders, our invasions involved only our nearest neighbors and our false flag operations were conducted within 90 miles of the Florida Keys. The Presidents in office during the years at the start of both world wars won their elections by promising to keep America out of them. We used to go to war for old-fashioned, unexceptional reasons: the gaining of territory and the weakening of other expansionist nations operating near our borders.

Supposing America were found to be exceptional, would that be a good thing? This is an important question, worth pondering and debating. Perhaps the Roman Empire did not fall because of greed or invasion by barbarians or due to the neurological effects of drinking from heavy metal goblets. Perhaps the Roman Empire fell the way every great society does in which an exceptional class of its citizens comes to control its policies. (always in the name of the "good" of the unexceptional) Under every such regime, only a generation or two passes before the old guard, consumed with defending its power and privileges grows increasingly blind and irrelevant to the concerns and aspirations of the very people it imagines it is serving. As an example, the architects of America's Cold War policies in the 1970s and 80s had about as relevant a contribution to make to the question of Iraq's danger to the world in 2002 as a horse might offer to an octopus regarding the question of sea-floor territory.

The same holds true for movements and institutions. Were Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Civil Rights Movement exceptional? Without a doubt, they were. Simply witness the situations in American society before and after the movement to judge the question correctly. Yet, only Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton remain muted voices in American politics today. And, this is as just as it should be. Today's societal struggles are not -- cannot -- be led by the heroes of yesterday's movements. Without a doubt, past heroes can inspire and advise new movements and help society understand the broader context in which the struggle continues. Yet, the fire that refines us in every generation is kindled with the tinder of today's hearts, not borrowed from the cooling embers of yesterday's. I assert this to be true also of heroic nations within epochs of international crisis.

So what is the conclusion? Are we Americans "exceptional"? To silently suspect one's own exceptionalism can be a source of great inner strength that motivates one to attempt acts of virtue or valor corresponding with a blossoming greatness sensed within. This is a mature, inner fountain of self-motivation, healthy to cultivate in children and in the unassertive. But to claim rights or privileges due to exceptionalism or -- worse still -- to defend one's claims to exceptionalism seems to me to be a sign of immaturity and weakness rather than of strength. It conjures up the image of a former ballerina Prima Donna, having lost her youthful beauty, grace, and flexibility, clumsily crashing the stage of a new production in a tattered, ill-fitting costume to demand fresh applause.

Did the world, once upon a time, give America a "pass" for using atomic weapons in war or for participating in the choosing of other nations' borders or their forms of government? What of it? We must have, at the time, so earned those privileges and so conducted ourselves in the immediate redemption of them as to invite the awe and respect of the greater mass of humanity rather than their outrage and vows of vengeance. Exceptionalism, then, like any other accolade or privilege, is best observed in ourselves silently or conferred upon us by peers worthy of our respect. As with any other virtue, it has a shelf life and begins to spoil and stink when hoarded too long. Only the insecure claim it as a right or use it as a justification.

New Year's Eve - Or Is It?

We Interrupt This Holiday To Bring You A Special Announcement:

The calendar is a useful fiction, meant to serve us - not to be our master. In fact, the earth is not exactly where it was 365.25 days ago, because the Sun is also falling through space as is the Sun's star cluster and the Milky Way itself. It is not December or January or 2012 or 2013. It is "Now": the only time you will ever have.

Two immediate practical consequences of this observation are: You don't ever have to put your life on hold, waiting for a date on a calendar to come around in order to have a new start. And, you're always only as old as you feel you are.

You may now return to your celebrations with the people you love who imagine there are weeks and months and years to pay attention to.

The End of an Era: RIP Zig Ziglar

"You will get all you want in life if you help enough other people to get what they want."
-Zig Ziglar

With Zig Ziglar's death at age 86 today, an era has ended in the Personal Development world. Zig, Mary Kay Ash, and Jim Rohn were all inspired by a man named John Earl Shoaff who dazzled many with his wealth, lifestyle, and philosophy back in the 1960s. All three became inspirations to millions and earned great wealth as motivational speakers in the decades that followed.

Tony Robbins, Jack Canfield (Chicken Soup book series), Brian Tracy and literally hundreds of others who have tried their hand at motivational speaking or writing got their initial impetus from Zig, Mary Kay, and Jim. I myself owe a big debt of gratitude to Mr. Rohn for the difference his words made in my life. It is because of him that I became serious about journaling, goal setting, and taking responsibility for my own success in life regardless of upbringing or circumstances.

When I first heard Jim Rohn speak in 1993, my financial world was so small that I thought $20,000 per year was "making it". Although I was very bright at other subjects, understanding the concept that 'learning new skills that are in higher demand can lead to a high income' eluded me. I was waiting for God to bless me, the economy to get better, a relative to help me out, etc, etc. I guess God did bless me the day I heard Rohn say,

"Whatever happens in life happens to us all. Circumstances are like the wind that blows - you cannot control the wind. But your personal philosophy is like the set of the sail on the boat of your life. Don't wish for a better wind to blow, wish for the wisdom to set a better sail."

It took me a few years to get into this kind of thinking. My first, early goals were very timid. But then I got serious about learning skills and setting income goals (before I was even employed, other than as a waiter while going back to college). By 1997, I was making $32,000 per year. By 2000, I was making over $65,000 per year. Then over $80,000 in 2005 and in 2007, I crossed the six figure mark in anual salary (not including benefits) and have been in that vicinity ever since.

Did I get lucky? You bet I did. Nobody "called" the Internet boom back when I decided to go back to school for computer science in 1995. But there were enough hints of what was to come just by noticing the number of help-wanted ads in that field. That's where my intelligence helped out. But the fact is, I wouldn't even have thought to look at those ads or to re-train for a whole new field of work, if Jim Rohn hadn't spoken into my life.

Sometimes I wonder who will take up the 'influence' mantle of John Earl Shoaff for the people born in the '80s and '90s. Who will be the next generation of voices, perhaps inspired by Tony Robbins, Jack Canfield, Brian Tracy, Mark Victor-Hansen, or even Rhonda Byrne, Deepak Chopra, or Wayne Dyer? Maybe in the Internet age, with TED talks, blogs, YouTube lessons, and so on, a new, a more democratic day has dawned with fewer motivational "stars". That's fine. As long as the message gets out which challenges people similarly to these words, by John Earl Shoaff:

"Lets not be moons, the reflector of light. Lets be suns, the creator of light - the creator of ideas. Because we all have the capacity."

Frittering Our Lives Away

Today I saw an amusing picture someone shared on a social media website of a zebra clinging to the top of a giraffe's neck, peering over its head into the far distance. The caption asked, "Can you see Friday yet... ?" It seems that all around us, there are messages about wishing we were at some other time or some other place than where we are right now. Like candy, these mental bon-bons are harmless enough as occasional sentiments. But, also like candy, it is easy to over-indulge, leading to consequences one might not expect or prefer.


Used Courtesy of MyCommentSpace.com
Where does this desire not to be "here", "now", come from? How is it that we can live week to week, month to month, year to year, always yearning for some other day or situation to arrive? A good bit of this tendency no doubt comes from our environment. We grow up hearing our parents, relatives, and friends bemoaning their circumstances. We get sent to school where we come to feel that homework is a chore and that looking forward to Friday and the weekend is a normal emotional state. To resist these attitudes is to risk alienation from a vital circle of society. The path of least resistance is to go along with it, adopt the outlook, and mimic acceptable catch-phrases, such as, "Thank God it's Friday!" Well before the weekend is over, it hits us - Monday is coming! Soon, whatever joy we may have been experiencing gets overshadowed by the dread we've learned to affect from those we love. By the time we join the working world, it is almost a competition, at the coffee break, to be the first one to exclaim, "I hate Mondays!"

But not all of the blame can be laid at the feet of our acquaintances and institutions. Some of us take the ball and run considerably farther. We learn that we can distinguish ourselves by the thought and creativity we pour into our expressions of elation or vehemence over the periods of time approaching in the near future. There's a cost to doing this, however, and that cost adds up. Expressing ourselves in these ways tends to define us, in the minds of those we spend time with as "John, the guy who loves Fridays" or "Maria, the girl who hates Mondays". And, having trained others to see us in those ways, we tend to then reinforce that image as part of our own search for meaning and belonging. We can be counted on to say or create or share ever-cleverer expressions of ourselves as people who somehow get by in life based on the promise of a better day to come - like the caption on the photo of the zebra.  In time, we believe this definition ourselves.

You have undoubtedly asked yourself some form of the age-old question, "If I could go back in time to a specific point in my life, which one would I choose to make it all turn out differently?" The mind loves contemplating hypotheticals like this. And yet, the joke is on whoever asks that question because doing so virtually guarantees you will ask it again in the future and come up with: the current period in your life. Why is that? Because to contemplate it at all is a form of escape that steals your focus away from the present moment. It robs you of the presence of mind required to soberly assess whether your current situation and activity are steering you toward the kind of life you would rather live. And just now we have gotten to the heart of the matter. Escape. Somehow, many of us have bought the message that we're just supposed to press forward in a life filled with circumstances and situations we never would have chosen if we had known better the first time around. Contemplating all of the disruption and energy it would take to press the "Reset" button, face the stark, naked unknown, and escape the gravity of expectations from all the loved ones we've trained to accept us in our default form just seems so... daunting. So we take our minds off of the subject. We distract ourselves with gadgets, amuse ourselves with content, numb ourselves with substances, and press on. No wonder Thoreau made the observation (still true today), "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."  Living such a life is unpleasant, so we find ways to not notice that it's happening - chiefly in the form of occupying our thoughts about the past or the future.

I have come to believe that the attitude one has toward life is the most precious mental commodity he or she possesses. More valuable - by far - than a sharp wit or a quick memory. Intellect and recall will always serve to the best of their ability. But the thing that they serve - the one who calls the shots - is your attitude. The good news is, unlike your other mental faculties, attitude can be changed. And yet, how rare it is to meet someone who actively works to improve his or her attitude toward life in adulthood! I heard someone once define "personality" as "the set of social strategies for survival you came up with in Middle School." Are you the Joker in your group? The leader? The cynic, the quiet one, the critic, the facilitator? When was the last time you examined the fundamental building blocks of how you respond to life and asked the question, "Does this way of expressing myself really serve me anymore?" If the answer is, "Longer than a year", I suggest it's time to get your journal out, jot the question down, and let it work its magic. You'd be amazed at what you come up with when you take yourself seriously enough to call yourself on your own assumptions and allow what is really important to come up to the surface.

A surprising and delightful benefit of learning to focus in on the present moment is that life seems to slow down considerably. A lot of the mental chatter you needed to sustain in order to distract yourself from your former sense of drudgery just melts away. The daily commute is no longer an unpleasant necessity for getting from point A to point B. Instead, it becomes a fascinating adventure that's new each day. You stop avoiding "certain people" and take on the outlook that you're going to deal with them as if you were meeting them for the very first time. You give that restaurant another try, even though they messed up your order once upon a time. And so on. Perhaps some of this sounds far-fetched or even naive. People who have invested their lives in cleverly pointing out snarky angles and flaws in every situation might make fun of you. Friends who've known you for years might wonder what the hell has gotten into you. I guess there are trade-offs for every path one may take. But for me, the price has been worth it.

I get on the elevator at work. A co-worker I've never seen before exclaims, "Thank God, it's Friday!" The door opens at my floor and I reply, "Oh yeah - Friday is one of my favorite days of the week!" I step out of the car then I turn and add, "Just like Monday." The look on his face as the door closes: Priceless.

Losing An Uncle, Gaining A Family

I'm not sure why it takes a death in the family to spur us to reconnect with loved ones we've lost track of, but that's what the last few days has been like for me. My beloved Uncle Stan died on Valentine's day and I traveled to his part of the country to attend the memorial service held in his honor last weekend.

Stan lived a long and interesting life and he was rich in the areas that count most, love and life experiences - as well as being well off materially. Like a star, his homestead attracted the nearby dwelling places of his natural and extended families. His own fascinating house commands an incredible view at the top of a low summit aptly named "Love's Hill". It's tempting to write about the cool cars he drove and raced, his pilot's license, his professional ascent to Chief of Medicine at the hospital where he worked, as well as the less auspicious but satisfying medical work he did at local schools and prisons. My dad says that his brother "Wanted to do everything, try everything." It's pretty clear from my life history that I inherited that part of the family's genetic sequence myself.

Whether it was the turbulent transition from the sixties to the seventies or personal transitions in their own lives, my father and uncle left the wives of their 20s and 30s at a similar time, stranding cousins and aunts from the regular contact that would have happened if it had not been so. We all went by nicknames back then. I was "Buddy" (Bernard II), Stan Jr. was "Chummy", and his brother John was "Johnny". My paternal grandparents were a hub of occasional re-uniting, and it was always fun to get together. Well fun for me anyway, I was the youngest of us three. I'm sure I was a bit of a pain in the butt to Chummy and Johnny, but it was the good kind of pain in the butt - they got back at me whenever we went outside and played catch. Guess who got to be the eternal and everlasting monkey in the middle? Good times.

And then the inevitable high school commencements and goings out into the world, some to college, some to the military. We were spread out all over the country. Every once in a while one of us would make an effort and re-establish contact. But like in the parable of the sower, "the cares of this world" took their toll and it would often be years before we would hear from one another.

So last weekend, I got the chance to hug the necks of some dear people I hadn't seen in a good long while, not just Chummy and Johnny and their mother, but Stan's second family and friends of the family as well. Miss Baltimore came with me (I had been visiting her for Valentine's weekend when I got the news) and it was a delight to introduce her to them and vice versa. It felt so good to be so connected again after all the years. I hope we all make the effort to keep in touch and visit from time to time.

The Questionable Value Of Loyalty

Loyalty. Even the sound of the word carries a certain gravitas. Loyalty is comfortably ensconced in a league with other golden virtues such as honor, dignity, and integrity. It is used as a final line of demarcation in character judgments. We've all heard variations on the line, "If there's one thing I will not tolerate, it is disloyalty." Loyalty seems to be the bedrock beneath society's most cherished arrangements: family, friendship, and patriotism.

I say this is all a bunch of nonsense.

Suppose you were going to try to do something really big and you needed the help of many other people to pull it off. You've got (basically) two powers of persuasion at your disposal to secure their cooperation: coercion or inspiration. For example, during the space race of the 50s and 60s, John F. Kennedy declared the goal of sending a man to the moon. America was inspired by this vision of scientific progress and made it happen with scant to none evidence of coercion. On the other hand, Kennedy's meddling in Vietnam (out of loyalty to a European ally) precipitated the military draft under President Johnson. Evidently, inspiration was not enough to secure the participation of enough of our citizens for that venture.

Loyalty is a form of moral coercion. It is a tool used by bullies to hoodwink those they perceive to be weak. Think back to your childhood days on the playground or in the neighborhood. Some older kid wants you to do something you know you don't want to do. And what does he or she say to you? "Aw, come on, you're not going to chicken out on me now are you?" So you do this thing that will get you grounded for two weeks because you're afraid of being thought of as a deficient friend. At least you were loyal and not a coward! But what do your parents say to you in these situations? "If he asked you to jump off a cliff, would you?" This is exactly the crux of the matter of loyalty being hogwash.

It is a healthy sign for an adult of the human species to be independent, ambitious, and self-reliant. Indeed, an important part of adolescence and young adulthood is experiencing peer pressure and learning to break free of its grasp. It is not that easy to consciously sever the cords of belonging that lay claim to our individuality. But sever them we must if we are to grow up. We open ourselves up to charges of being disloyal or of feeling superior to others. Yet, where do these charges originate? Why would anyone ever accuse another person of disloyalty?

The root cause is fear. Fear of scarcity. Scarcity of love, of friendship, of a sense of societal safety, of whatever it is that one wishes to have. If I feel that you, and you alone, have the thing I need, I will do whatever is in my power to persuade you to give it to me. (including coerce you) I have to - you've got what I need! If I feel that I can obtain what I want from any number of people, I'm more willing to let the law of averages play out by spreading my persuasive energy among more prospects. Upon discovering that everything I truly need - love, joy, peace, fulfillment - is available within myself, I am finally set free from the illusion that I ever have to coerce anybody for anything. Now I get to propose my intentions and discover, to my delight, that some people are inspired by what I have in mind. You've experienced both coercion and inspiration in your lifetime. To which of these do you respond better?

Do we really need coercive ties to bind us together? Is the cost of such arrangements worth the purported benefits? What would we call loyalty if it were based purely on heart-felt preference instead of duty or obligation?

This is probably enough to chew on for one blog column. It's worth considering the implications of so-called loyalty on religion, socio-economic class, politics, management/labor relations, marriage... oh dear, I've discovered yet another lack of scarcity!