Awareness Awareness – Virtual Activism

End Human Trafficking.

End Child Abuse.

End Suicide.

End Apartheid/ Discrimination/ Racism/ Hate/ Violence/ Ignorance/ Hunger/ AIDS/ Malaria/ Tuberculosis/ Animal Cruelty/ Homelessness/ Drug Abuse/ Rape/ Slavery/ Dihydrogen Monoxide Deaths . . .

We have a cause for everything.  Even things, if we are really honest with ourselves, aren’t even problems – just things we don’t like.  We can work ourselves into a frenzy about things that are happening on the other side of the world while remaining blissfully unaware of the heinous acts occurring across the street.

A classic example is death by the chemical dihydrogen monoxide.  This chemical can cause death in as little as 3 minutes when exposure exceeds safe levels and nearly every home in Americas has sufficient quantity to kill adult, let alone a small child.  In fact, this chemical is a leading cause of death among children under the age of 5 – many of them in their own home.  The death rate in the United States has remained constant at approximately 4,150 deaths a year.  Despite it’s well known deadly potential, the primary provider of this chemical is our local governments!  You can read all the shocking facts here.

Okay, enough of that – dihydrogen monoxid (DHMO) is water.

If you go to the DHMO.org site, you can see the abundant use of statistics, emotionally charged illustrations and deliberate omissions – all designed to raise your awareness and to push you into action.  Every now and then, this one will resurface and catch someone off guard and you will see a flurry of activity to once again raise awareness to the dangers of DHMO.

Social media and internet journalism have been a powerful force in shaping opinion, raising awareness, crowdfunding, mobilization and political activism.  Don’t misunderstand, I believe much has been accomplished through these movements – much of it of great value.  However, something has gotten lost.

We have begun to discover the dark side of Virtual Activism – the place where we get to feel really good about doing something really great and yet it costs us very little and accomplishes next to nothing.

I was recently speaking to a man in his 70s (actually, I was a captive audience on a 20 minute car ride) who rode the buses in Selma and later was a paralegal with Amnesty International.  We solved many of the nations problems on that car ride.  One of the things he noticed was the volume of talk on a mountain of issues, but virtually no one with a shovel trying to dig us out.

Many times, awareness becomes just a marketing vehicle for an industry or product.  Check out breast cancer awareness money raised by selling products containing carcinogens.  Or how about the chemical industry giant funding breast cancer awareness while producing and marketing the toxins known to cause cancer.

Why do we need a national organization to put an angel on a tree for us to buy a gift for the child that lives 3 doors down?  Why do we need to spend millions of dollars on awareness campaigns to recruit people to read with children?

Of course we should talk about these issues.  Yes, we should organize and bring resources to bear.  But mostly, we should do something.  It’s too easy to hide behind a donation that is “a little less than $1 a day” or “what we spend on eating out just once a month.”  We are so quick to equate arguing and convincing with impacting.  We have to do more than the least that we could do.

By all means, sponsor a child, wear a ribbon, give up one fast food meal a month, but more importantly find a way to spend 6 to 8 hours a month touching a life.  The opportunities are endless.

End Awareness!

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To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before

Yesterday was our 25th wedding anniversary.  We have returned to St. Augustine to the same Bed & Breakfast in which we honeymooned.  It has changed (both the Old City and the B&B).  A lot.

So have we.

I am not the same man I was when we got married.  That’s a good thing.  He was arrogant, inexperienced, self-indulgent and self-absorbed – not real good husband material.  I’ve grown up quite a bit since then (as opposed to “grown old”).

My wife’s not the same girl I married either.  In fact, we have each gone through many stages and changes in our lives.  Some of the changes are so profound, it’s like becoming a whole new person.

I’ve loved every person she has become over the years.  I’m excited to meet who she will become next.

She’s amazing!

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With My Own Hand – a Year and a Half Later

Back in March, 2012, I attended my uncle’s funeral.  Because of some things I heard and saw there, I took up letter writing – as in pen, paper, stamp, envelope and writer’s cramp.  (Read the details here ... )

Write to whom?

Not counting inmates (I write to anywhere between 3 and 7 people that are incarcerated at any given time), I have written 20 to 25 different people.  Many of them only once (especially the international ones (a global stamp costs $1.10)), but some of them numerous times.  I haven’t kept an official tally, but it is well over 120 letters.

To date (again, excluding inmates) I have received a total of 5 letters from 3 different people.  Mostly I get no response.  Occasionally I get an email response.  Sometimes I get a, “Hey, I got your letter” in a subsequent encounter.  Once I got a book.

The email responses are interesting.  Here is a typical reaction:

Hey there Jim,

I received your letter last week, and I just want to say thank you very much for it. It’s a very unusual and special thing to get a hand-written-anything these days, as it takes so much more thought and effort than an email (like this one).

It takes me about twice as much time to hand-write a letter as opposed to typing in Microsoft Word.  Sometimes I do type, but mostly I write.  The stamp costs me $.46 unless it is international; then it’s $1.10.  I use whatever envelope is lying around, so some go out in greeting card envelopes, others in a personal sized one and sometimes the good ole number 9 or 10.  I’ve used a 6″X9″ writing pad, composition book, hotel stationary, notebook paper and 8.5″X11″ computer paper.  Usually I use whatever ballpoint pen is handy, but have used a fine point flair a few times and once I used a pencil.

I’ve written to former students, my children, siblings, nieces and nephews, old friends, bloggers, people in grief and a couple of letters praising an employee to their boss.  The average letter is about 300 words, but I’ve sent notes with as few as 20 words and a longer epistle of over 3000 words (that one was typed).

Why do I spend the time and money?

I think it matters.  I think it communicates the value and worth of what is written, but more importantly, I thing it communicates the value and worth of the one to whom it is written.  Just the act of writing and sending a letter says, “You are noticed and you are worth this effort.”

Am I disappointed in the response?

No.

I didn’t really expect anything.

Until someone responds, you never know whether or not they even saw it.  It is nice to have a response with which to interact.  I like letters from my pen pals.  But, even without the interaction, it is worth it.  They are worth it.

Whether it is some wisdom I want to pass on to a former student, an old friend I remembered fondly or a blogger who wrote something that touched my heart, they are all people who have added value to my life.  I think it is important that they know that.

So I write . . .

With my own hand.

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Cubs Fans, Dad and God’s Love – How I Know There Is Always Hope

I’m a Cubs fan.

As an early adolescent I had the opportunity to see 45 to 50 games in Wrigley Field.  In the years we lived in the Chicago area, they never had a winning record.  Speaking of records, the Cubs were the first to win the World Series in back to back seasons – in 1907 & 08.  That’s about it.  They made a real strong showing through the next 3 decades, but their last pennant win was in 1945.

That was before the lights, so they were all day games.  I saw them play just about everyone at some time or another.  Sometimes attendance would be down a little early in the week, but usually the seats were pretty full.  Cubs fans are loyal – win or lose (and that was usually lose).

My dad could fix anything.

It didn’t start out that way.  He was always mechanically inclined and in the area of electronics, he was well trained by the U.S. Navy.  In fact, in the last couple of years of service, he was an electronics instructor.  But other than electronics, he had to figure it out.

No matter what it was, he would take it apart, make some drawings and then head down to the library.  He’d go through service manuals and repair manuals.  He’d take notes and make more drawings (this is well before photocopiers).  Then he’d come home and fix it.

This meant nothing was really dead in our household.  It could always be made to work just one more time (it also meant that it was hard as the dickens to ever get anything new).  Nothing was ever thrown away.

God continues to demonstrate His love for me.

We’re used to, “God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”  But this love is not limited to an act of sacrificial love 2000 years ago, or even our “moment of salvation” when we moved from death to life.

God demonstrates His love toward me continually.  With provision in unusual or creative ways (sometimes just plain weird ways), by connection to brothers and sisters in His family or peace in chaotic or troubling circumstances, He shows that not only does He know me, but He notices and actually cares about me.  His love never fails.

I guess that’s why I rarely give up on someone.

God has never given up on me.  No matter how willful, defiant or just plain dumb I can be.  My experience with dad tells me that nothing is ever broken beyond repair.  There is always an opportunity to fix it.  And as a Cub’s fan?  Maybe I’m just not bright enough to know when to give up.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  Love never fails.

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