Why Nobody Recycles

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Every two months, I fill my car with the aluminum cans I accumulate (which amounts to 80-100 lbs), drive to the recycling company, and accept the paltry amount they pay. The only real reason I do this is because I realized I could multitask when I exercised and pick up cans I passed when I was out on the streets anyway. That way, I get paid 10-20 cents every day that I work out because I find things that other people leave behind. However, it's a matter of scale like so many other things, and so it takes me two months to obtain enough to even bother recycling, and at that rate it's just not worth it. My neighbors rarely do any work to even separate recyclables from their regular trash. They have more important, more productive, and rewarding things to do with their time.

Contrary to popular belief, recycling isn't a new thing. During world war II, the United States encouraged a series of rubber drives, metal drives, scrap drives, etc., all with the intent of utilizing discarded materials to accelerate and enhance the war effort. Since the people didn't suffer from as many distractions as we do, since work was scarce, and since time was plenty, it gave people something to do, even if that's all they could do, to participate in something bigger. Now that we can earn money, and now that entertainment abounds, none of us seem too concerned with being part of something bigger. Add to that, Recycling prices haven't kept up with inflation. I remember at the age of 10 that aluminum prices were $0.25/lb, and we would gleefully collect aluminum and take it down to earn a few extra dollars. At the age of ten, five dollars went a long way. Trouble is, I'm getting about the same amount of money now for cans, but it just doesn't seem as exciting or go as far. Today they pay me a paltry $0.30/lb; last time they were $0.35/lb, but even at that price, I get about $30 for an ENTIRELY FULL CAR. If I had to go out of my way to do this, I would probably break even on gas, but I don't even come close to breaking even on time spent.

Recycling takes a lot of work for the return. If you just collect your own cans, you get about a penny per can on average based on the mass of each can compared to the spot price. This means you can recoup about 4% of the cost of a 12 pack of soda assuming you take the time. The time invested can be enormous. You must pick up the cans, crush them, store them, load them in your car, drive them over, unload, and then wait in line for the tare and for the payment. When I consider all the time involved, if I were doing it specifically in order to get money, I wouldn't waste my time. Since I collect them while I'm out walking or jogging, it's not any extra time spent, but the crushing and packing take time, and I think I could do better working part time at the 7/11 on the corner if money were my only impetus. Furthermore, most things that are dropped aren't recycled. My idiot neighbor put styrofoam in his plastic recycling. I know that polystyrene is technically a plastic, but nobody recycles it. It's too difficult. Even the cans I collect are a mess. When they aren't dirty, often they contain stale contents or bugs, and so they stink up everything they touch including the seats in my Saturn which are now stained from leaking soda. I can earn an extra $200 per year much faster doing other things, almost anything really.

Without a war to necessitate recycling, I see very little encouragement anywhere to do it besides the guilt trips given us by environmental movements. Recycling companies don't seem interested in encouraging it. Outside the window, they post depressing articles about how scrap is bringing ever lower prices, how companies aren't buying, how many things are not recyclable, ad infiniutum. They seem to hire the worst people possible to manage it. The employees are plodding, pandering, pedantic and portly. Most of them are surly. Some of them are dismissive and even derisive. The companies make it complicated to process your recyclables. I'm sure it's about accountability, but sometimes I feel like a convicted felon between the ID check, photo, scales, only one guy taking measurements, and the broken ATM that pays you. I mean, how do illegal aliens recycle if they need a photo ID? How do homeless people get paid for their cans? Do you know a full shopping cart gets them less than $10 cash? By the time I do all this, I might as well let someone else because my time can be worth far more than $0.30/lb. When I lived in Reno, they gave you a trash rebate if you recycled. I get my own "rebate" now, but all it really does it pay for my running shoes and hiking boots every year, which is a nice way to break even I guess since you can't get that running in a gym. If they continue to cut prices, I'll probably just leave the cans where they fall and not waste my time.

Unless people get a personal warm fuzzy from doing what they ought, they need some other kind of incentive to participate in good causes. That's why they pay to recycle. It beats having to mine it, but if you recycle too much, the miners lose their jobs. So, it's a catch-22. They give you a small token, but it's really not enough to be worth your while unless you're unemployed or ten years old. I give my mom credit for going to the effort to let us do this, because I know it cost her time and money for gas to get us to the recycling place. I think she was trying to teach us that we ought to do it, and it helped that we also got paid. However, it's not really an efficient use of time when I could do anything else unless I'm doing it in concert with some other activity. IN any case, you could never sustain yourself recycling aluminum cans, even if it were $0.50/lb. I would have earned a whole $25/month doing that, or I could work at the store for three hours instead. Maybe the garbage company, on an economy of scale, finds it worth their time and effort. I know I wouldn't commend it to anyone even if it is good for the planet. It's not good for most people, particularly if the person doing it would be more valuable elsewhere.

Cheese With Student Whine

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Almost inevitably, the students who earn the worst grades, miss the most class, and possess the least talents complain the loudest. No matter how good I may be, how hard I may try, or how well I synergize with students, inevitably one student or more take exception with me. Fortunately for me, I learned this early on when, while teaching in graduate school, I found a couple that tested my abilities, knowledge and expertise. I couldn't get through to them. I no longer expect to reach everyone. Usually, the first few weeks serve to weed out those unlikely to work well with me, but since I adopted an orphaned microbiology course, I inherited students who might otherwise leave if I started the term with them. One in particular apparently had nothing good to say about me, and I imagine, now that grades are posted and she did even more poorly than she anticipated, the slander and libel continues. I tell you this not to grouse but to broaden your mind to what it's like to work in academia.

She complained about emails. When I was a student, even though email existed, by and large we still actually met with our professors in person for any information dissemination. Since most student issues apply to more than one, I decided to wait until class to address it for everyone rather than answering 34 times to individuals. That plan failed for a different reason. I only received three emails from her during the entire semester. In the second, she asked for special, even preferential treatment, asking me to scan and email her copy of exam 2 so she could correct it. Everyone else came to class, and none of them asked for special treatment, and since I didn't realize I had actually met her the first night, I was disinclined to acquiesce to her request. The third one was belligerent and combative. IN it she opined the fact that I had drawn attention to her absentia. Well, it was not lost on anyone else in the class, her lab partner in particular, who was orphaned by this choice and had to be reassigned permanently to someone else. I would have never presumed to speak to one of my professors the way she vociferously attacked me. I also only saw her thrice during the entire term. In the third email, she fed me her sob story about why she was absent and complained that I hadn't answered 'all her other messages'. Well, I didn't answer because I didn't actually receive them. In all likelihood, she accidentally sent them to the other professor, but of course that's my fault. The whole point of meeting with a professor was to know firsthand from the primary source. The digital generation assumes that the messages arrive. Well, unless you ask for a return receipt, that's not necessarily true.

She complained about my lectures, delivery, and content. I am fairsure she picked the previous professor because he was easy. Several other students opined the change in study technique necessary to adapt to my teaching and assessment paradigm. What's even more interesting about her gripe was the fact that she wasn't even there to hear any except the first one. How could she possibly know what I discuss or validly complain that I "talk about himself too much" when she only heard me lecture once? She didn't attend ANY labs, and yet I found it perplexing when she emailed me lab writeups for classes where I know she was absent. Although attendance was no longer mandatory, I offered extra credit for attending, and so I have signature pages from her classmates on which her line is almost always blank. After each exam, where she was always the first one finished, she left the room never to return, even though we had a lab immediately antecedent to exam 3. Unless she obtained recordings of my lectures, she has nearly zero first hand knowledge of what I did or how while I was in class after that first night because she wasn't there.

She complained about hardships and expected special treatment. In that third email, she wrote a diatribe about her privations and reasons why she couldn't come to class. Well, I don't think I missed in any given class as many days as she actually attended, and although other people missed class, none of them tried to make excuses. She didn't seem to realize that classmates went through more difficult trials than she. Last semester, one young lady came to class after being in a car wreck, even to her own father's surprise. This term, one young lady arrived every day, albeit sometimes late, after driving 50 miles after work to come to class. One classmate discovered she had cancer; two lost loved ones; several were ill with the flu and other diseases; none of them whined and moaned like this one did. This particular woman decided since attendance wasn't mandatory that she wasn't going to make the effort to come unless it would guarantee her failure. In the past, I have given pop quizes to preclude this eventuality. In her case, she's lucky I didn't employ that tactic.

All too often I meet students who think far too highly of themselves. They all think they are special. I don't think anyone ever resisted her "charms" before. She's gotten away with thinking that she's special, probably because of her looks, that it came as quite a shock that it didn't work on me and that everyone scored better in the class than she. It's always worked for her to do anything besides actually do the work required by the course in order to succeed, and when I didn't validate her worth, she lashed out in a contumely because it must be someone else's fault. Blinded by unbroken success, however undeserved it may be, I think it came as quite a shock that she earned a grade far lower than she expected. I expect to be contacted by a Chair/Dean/Vice President to justify the grade, but unfortunately for her, I kept attendance logs, and I can show that she never came to class. She can't prove I got "all her emails", nor is it my fault or problem that she can't get to class. I was there, and I also had a crappy year. In the end, I don't think I could make her happy. If she earned an "A" she'd probably complain I was too easy or that it wasn't worth the money. She probably wanted a reason to complain, to blame, to project. Some people just aren't happy unless they have a gripe, a reason to whine, an excuse for any perceptible imperfection. I think this particular student would think I sucked no matter what I did. She doesn't want to succeed as much as she desires sympathy and attention; she must have terrible self esteem.  You can't please all the people all of the time, and some people can't be pleased at all no matter what you do.

Season of Perpetual Hope

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There is no death worse than the end of hope. -Pelagius, 120AD, Rome

I watch one movie each Christmas without fail- Home Alone. I watch it because it's reminiscent of my youth, because it features Mannheim Steamroller Christmas music, because it talks about what matters most- love and family. I watch it because of a special line. When Kevin's mother struggles to fly home to be with and look out for her son, she tells the man in Scranton that this is "the season of perpetual hope". I like that. I like this movie for that. I like that it has a happy ending. I am hoping to have one myself.

It's the time of year when we hope we have actually been good. It's when we hope that good things will come our way. It's when many young men hope the young women with whom they are infatuated will accept their proposals. It's when we hope our families will accept our significant others and that everyone at the family gathering will get along. It's when we hope to get something that isn't trash from the White Elephant exchange. It's when we hope that the delicious and decadent foods we eat don't actually count towards our caloric intake! It's when we hope people we love will think of, remember, visit, and love us as much as we love them. It's when children hope presents will materialize if they go to bed on time. It's when parents hope to find the special gift or be able to assemble it in time! It's when we hope to have enough to make miracles for other people. It's when we sometimes give hope to others by our kind deeds. It's when we hope that the next year will be better. It's when we all hope that the world might one day be a little kinder, a little safer, a little more beautiful because of "peace, goodwill toward men". It's of course the season when we hope that God will forgive us because His son was willing to step in and take our stripes for us.

Last week, I thought about the last years since I moved to Vegas. I realized that they alternate between a really lousy year and then a decent or at least quiet one. For me, 2015 has really sucked. Last year was quiet, and 2013 sucked, but 2012 was the best year of my life because of a particular person because of whom I hoped for things I really thought might be lost to me forever. Next year, if the pattern holds, it will at least be quiet, but it could be awesomesauce. As you well know if you read anything I write regularly, this time of year, I think about my perpetual hope that God will send me a geautiful birl or restore one to me taken from me and allow me to be a dad, raise some children, and have a reason to get up excitedly on Christmas morning. This year, for the very first time in a long time, when I thought of the Christ child, I considered the prospects for my own, the promise of progeny that accompanies the rainbows I see. I keep hoping that "love" was real and will return.

Christ is our highest and most lasting hope. I find it silly that so many people, particularly our leaders, insist on trying to make earth, which is fallen, the utopia that heaven alone can sustain, trying to build with imperfect men what only the perfect Christ can attain. "A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn". Christians are the true religion of peace. That doesn't mean everyone who purports to be Christian is, but Christians are the kindest, most giving people as a rule on the planet. It's because we realize we are lost, fallen, helpless, and hopeless, unless we are found acceptable in Christ's eyes to receive of His mercy, His grace, and His gifts. He doesn't need our frankincense, gold, or myrrh, but He does need our faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, charity, humility, and diligence. Each of us hopes to be a better man next year than we were in this, and at Christmas we get the chance to practice those virtues, not only with strangers, but more importantly with those we claim to love. Far too many people assume virtues for acts of beneficence towards people they never met and excuse atrocities against their own kin. This makes their beneficence towards strangers largely imaginary but their spite towards their families wholly real. Let us really love those we say we love and then meet other people so that we can love them too. That's what Christ would have us all do as a gift on His birthday.

I do not think it is a bad thing to celebrate Christmas proximal to the New Year, when we consider on the past, plan for the future, and hope for good things in the present. Each day is a gift. It allows us to hope that today will be better than yesterday, that this year will be better than last, that our present self will improve on the decisions made by the self we put to bed the night before. Christmas, because of Christ and what He represents, is truly the season of perpetual hope, that helps us consider that anything is possible, that any man, no matter how low he falls, is still a Child of God and within His reach through the Atonement of a Savior. "I bring you glad tidings of great joy that shall be unto all people for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord." Hope. Hope that Christ will do what He promises. Hope that He will bring you good gifts. Hope that He loves you enough to save you from the mistakes of your past. Hope that His power, mercy, grace, and virtue will cancel out your weakness and rebelliousness. "Wherefore, how great the importance to make these things known unto the inhabitants of the earth, that they may know that there is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah, who layeth down his life according to the flesh, and taketh it again by the power of the Spirit, that he may bring to pass the resurrection of the dead, being the first that should rise...he shall make intercession for all the children of men". Whatever else happens in this world, wherever I fail, and whenever other people hedge up my way, my hope is in Christ who eventually will make all things right. He knows what I hope, what I wish, who I miss, and where I would like to be. For a wise purpose in Him that's not where I am needed most at least right now, and everything I have earned will eventually come to pass. He is the Lord of the Harvest, and the promise is sure that whoso believeth in Him shall have life everlasting. This is Christmas, the season of perpetual hope, and I don't care if it costs me everything I own, I am going to get in line with God's Only Begotten Son.

Merry Christmas. May God's love be more evident in your life this year, and may His spirit be with and abide in you today and always. Godspeed.

Unexpected Coincidence?

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I'm old enough, wise enough, and experienced enough that I no longer believe in coincidence. However, something completely unexpected happened today. As I walked through the parking lot to go over for some lunch, an envelope blew towards me and stopped against my leg. My first reaction was one of sorrow for the person who lost their Christmas card, but curiosity overcame me, and perhaps a little greed, so I opened the flap, removed the card, and read its surprising contents. I think it was a message from God.

Below, you can see some very low-resolution images of the card, taken with my Motorola V3 RAZR phone.

Here is what the card reads:

Hope Christmas brings the things that make you smile (printed from Hallmark)

You're perfect just the way you are Happy Holidays! (obviously written by a woman)

With kindness, pass it on (in cursive, by another writer)

As I stood there holding the card in my hand, an indescribable feeling washed over me. Sunday, I was talking with a member of my congregation after church about how I paradoxically have low self esteem but come across as arrogant and haughty. I know I'm awesome. I really like myself. There is nothing I would change about my life that is in my power to change. There is only one thing I don't expect for Christmas that would make me smile. I'm spending it with my parents, my kid sister, and my brother's family from Texas. Family time is the best gift.

I knew when I read the first comment that God made sure the card found its way to me. I know that if anyone wanted me to know that I'm perfect just the way I am, He would. I know I'm not literally perfect, and I know that's not what it means. I know what it really means is that there is nothing wrong with who I am, how I'm living, what I'm thinking, or how I chose in the circumstances placed before me. If Karma really exists, if good things come to those who wait, if right things work out, I know it's only a matter of time before I come into my own.

The card achieved its goal and already gave me a thing about which to smile. I don't know who lost this card, where they lost it, or how long it's been circulating, but I'm glad I came in to work today or else I would have missed this message. Of course, God knows where I will be, when I will be there, what I will be doing, and that I'm likely to pick up things like this, and I made an unscheduled course correction that took me by this bush for the first time in weeks. Otherwise, I would never have even seen the card let alone read it and got the message. I didn't expect it, but I also don't believe in coincidence, only the illusion of coincidence. Everything happens for a reason, and I'm glad this happened. As for other things that made me smile, I'm hoping for a particular thing this Christmas that happened once for a good reason and certainly made me smile. That was the best year of my life. I hope 2016 is also awesomesauce.

Natural Order of Things

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In lieu of the normal Saturday activity, I went down the Colorado river with coworkers this weekend. It was interesting to hang out with a bunch of professors from physical science and hear each of us go on about his or her specialty. What was also interesting was to see the river in its native state more than most people usually do as we saw the river largely without the intrusions of man. We saw an enormous number of birds, ducks, coots, blue herons, osprey, eagles, falcons, and a horde of smaller birds everywhere because the river was largely empty of traffic. In fact, we saw five other humans all day after putting into the river- two campers at the hot springs, two hikers at the hot springs, and one concessionaire in a boat.

Living things exist in a state of competition. Each gully seemed to have its own local flora and fauna, and although we chased ducks down the river all day long, the rest of the birds seemed to return to their haunting or hunting grounds at the first opportunity. As we approached the birds, invading their space, they moved. When we stopped to explore a hot spring and grab a bite, there was a cave swallow that was looking for food, eager to snag some morsel that we dropped. Predatory birds went after other birds, sometimes to drive off competition for food, and other times hoping to make the other birds a meal.

Death is normal, part of life, and all around us. As much as humans fight off and against death, and as much as we like to fight against the death of fuzzy animals and the extinction of special species, one species is always food for another. Creatures that don't eat other creatures eat plants, but most creatures eat each other. Am osprey and the eagle competed for airspace. Later, we watched a peregrine repeatedly divebomb the coots, almost catching them. Towards the end, we happened to investigate a strip of sand and saw a dead swan on the beach. No human did that. Some other animal made it a meal.

Humans disrupt the natural order. We were clearly a force and presence that upset things. Every time an animal or bird moves away from me and wastes energy when I mean no offense, I feel badly. I wished the ducks would fly to the shore rather than moving downstream, only to have to move again. No matter how hard we tried, we were a disruption, distraction, and dissonant force in their day. We meddle, manipulating who lives and dies, propping up weak and dying species. We kill sometimes just for fun, and other times for ourselves but in places among populations that are balanced by other predators besides man. Almost every time I encounter Utahans, they bring their music and their electronics with them and drive away other living things. We are disruptive, and we don't usually see or hear, because we are too loud, too busy, too mobile to be able to usually see things as they are. Even when trying to do right, we change things. One professor remarked when we stopped for lunch, "this would be a nice slot canyon if it weren't basically a large latrine". The waste is buried, but it's so ubiquitous that this region is essentially polluted.

Much of what happens is far beyond our poor power to add or detract. Without men, the world moves forward. In spite of what we do, the world survives, thrives, moves forward, and produces bounty, beauty, and mystery. Sometimes when my compatriots spoke, I didn't understand the things they knew. We are sometimes so arrogant, especially in academia, when no matter how much I know about chemistry that doesn't mean I know any taxonomy, tectonics, astronomy, or mixology. We saw evidence of differential erosion on rock strata that destroys rocks on which humans never tred. We saw tectonic faults that fold, bend, and shatter rocks through which we would have to blast. We were subject to the flow of the river, trapped in the currents sometimes, and forced to navigate around obstacles covered by water earlier in the year. At each outlet of the slot canyons, we saw how despite efforts to clear Tamarix, it grows back and in greater numbers. The world lives on despite man. After we left, I'm sure things returned to their natural way and that animals and plants who do not remember barely registered our passing. What a wonderful world.

Real Love Persists

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"Real love cannot be so tenuous a thing that it takes many months to build and mere moments to destroy." -me

As we head deeper into the Holiday Season, when we think about loved ones, loved traditions, and things that we love to receive, the word love begs greater scrutiny. I've lost a lot of people I love this year, and really over the past few years, as the first blood relatives I actually knew died. When they died, I knew that they loved me, and I hope my cousins who felt otherwise will realize that they were loved eventually. Throughout my life, as it is supposed to be, my family has been a cistern of comfort and assurance from which I could draw in troubled times, fed by the continually flowing love of my parents for their children. I hope to have the kind of relationship with a partner that they enjoy and that their parents before them enjoyed, where their spouse was a source of reliable love and support as a bailiwick in troubled times. I don't see that as much as I like, and most people don't even seem to be looking for anything besides a mate, but the storybooks give us hope in things like real love. Finally, but not the least of which, the Christmas season is for Christians about God's love for man, His mercy, grace, and goodness in sending His son to rescue us.

Love of good parents sets the stage for success in life, love, and labor. Early last week, while shopping at the grocer, I observed a young child throw a tantrum because her mother forbade the purchase of some junk food, replete with the retort that claims the mother hated the daughter. As I surveyed the exchange, rather than criticize the young lady, I pondered my own reactions to my parents and apologized to my mother for my own similar outbursts and ignorance. I wasn't always sure how they manifest it, but I have always been certain as an adult that my parents loved me. When I was abroad, they wrote faithfully, even my father who wrote me a letter every week from Korea while stationed there alone. When I got divorced, they provided me berth under their roof once more. Each week when we are both in town, they invite me over for dinner and seem interested in my life. God blessed me with wonderful parents, and happy is the man whose parents actually wanted him. I know not everyone has this, and for that I weep.

No love on earth compares to or can replace that loving bond between parent and child. You spend nine months or so literally connected to your mother, and when your father is present in more ways than the physical, it creates a strong emotional bond. So, I understand when people I know follow the guidance of their parents and when parents I know reach out in desperate pleas to God on behalf of their prodigal children. At least one regular reader understands this, how no matter what they do or where they go you continue hoping for the wayward child and stand ready to slay the fatted calf when that child returns. The first Sunday in December, I opined to my mother that I might not ever find anyone fit to be a partner for life. She told me that she continued to hope that both my sister and I would find someone so that we'd at least not have to go through life alone. My parents pray regular for us, stand ready to assist us, and train us for later success in life. In fact, marriage is the greatest prophylactic against child poverty on earth. Good marriages help us learn how to forge good relationships with our peers leading to good romance. Good rearing prepares children to be successful, productive, and profitable members of society who are also self-reliant and eager to serve others.

Love that's romantic sets the stage for an enjoyable life and for our true legacy. They say that we do not find the purpose and meaning of life alone but with someone else, someone special, a partner in and for life. They don't tell you that it's harder to find that than we like or that most people aren't looking for anything long term. All too often, we trade what we want most for what we want at the moment and spend our lives doing neither what we ought nor like. How many couples end their marriages when the kids move out because they don't really like each other or have anything in common? In 2005, when a friend of mine decided to date a guy that I considered wrong and then realized I was right, she asked me if the first guy would still care about her. I reminded her of the Journey song "Separate Ways". I've used it as an intro to all of my youtube videos since then as a reminder of this belief.

Although eros is the lowest love, when coupled with the higher loves, it's a virtue and lofty goal. When you truly love someone, it means never giving up on people that you love and allowing them to choose their own adventure. This is how I know I didn't really love my ex wife but how I know I love someone else. At first, I loved my ex as well as I understood, because I tried for a significant time interval to rescue our marriage. However, I know now that I did it because I loved God. When I was told the church would no longer force us to stay together after about a year of trying to salvage it, I felt relieved, because I really didn't like her as much as I thought. This is how those stories you hear on Delilah get started, where people get together decades later, because they really loved them and never gave up hope. This is also how you hear about people who let the people they love go even though they really liked them, because they know that if it's right now it will also be right in a year, a decade, and a lifetime. If someone is really good for you, they will return. I know it's hard to trust in and wait for that because nobody has ever returned in my life, and I only know one person I care to have return. I do know that truelove is forever, that truelove will still be there, though you touch and go your separate ways. I realized this year that many of the couples I see that I don't understand exist because of true love. In many cases, these people married their best friend; in most of them they still see the person they love even if and when their mortal coil begins to decay. I only loved one woman in my whole life who loved me for me; she loved me and my stubborn belly fat. I think that if she had chosen me we could rely on each other for constant support and comfort in troubled times. Said Prince Humperdink: "You truly love each other, and so you might have been truly happy."

Love of God anchors our principles, holds our hope on a steady course, and comforts us in times of trial and hardship. Far too many of the people who change their principles either do not actually love God or do not really believe that He loves them. When you are fixed on yourself as the highest authority, it's easy to bend the rules to make yourself virtuous. It's easy to understand why people find it hard to believe in God, because they have very little concrete experience with Him. They can't touch Him, call Him, read letters from Him to them, etc., but even if they had this, it wouldn't help. I have all those things from people I know, and sometimes it's still not enough to be sure of their intentions and affirmations. When I got divorced, and I felt very low about the decision and its ramifications on my life, a kindly bishop sat me down and told me "You'll only really understand God's love for you when you hold your own son in your arms". I may never really understand this consequently, but during the Christmas season when I think about Christ's birth I feel like there is something, a point, a purpose, a plan, and a Parent, my Father God who loves me. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son that whoso believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. Christ was sent because God still loves us in spite of all that we have done.

Fortunately for us, God continues to love us. We continue to be exceedingly blessed in America, despite existential threats from abroad, financial duress everywhere, and pandemics in other continents. The story is told of a man who asked another who claimed God didn't meddle in human affairs anymore if we no longer need God, only to the reply that we need Him more than ever. I read this morning about how the Pope claims that salvation is free. Well, that's true, in a way. Francis says this because there are many people who think it's simply a matter of saying a sufficient number of Hail Mary's or paying a fee to the church to be forgiven. Well, by that logic, even Ghengis Khan, Pol Pot, Adolf Hitler, Julius Ceasar, and Jack the Ripper can and will be forgiven. I find it curious as well as infuriating that so many people around me seem so convinced of their state of grace as they persist in perniciousness while I sit there as the Publican of the New Testament and ask God for mercy. I am acutely aware of and intimately familiar with my weaknesses, and I know who and what I am. Despite my mistakes, I enjoy many blessings. I have my health, the use of my limbs, command of my faculties, food in my pantry, money in the bank, a car in the driveway, a roof over my head, a few friends, a fantastic family, and the hope that maybe one day it will be His good will to send me a wonderful woman to be my partner for my lives. I know so many people who live paycheck to paycheck or who suffer from privations and disease and who struggle to find employment. I am truly blessed. His love persists.

It is not love that is the problem but what people understand as love that's the problem. True love is forever. True love persists. It's why good parents pray and look for the lost. It's why people continue to pray and look for someone to love them for who they really are. It's why we find comfort in God who already loves us for who we really are despite the stupid and sometimes rebellious things we do. I have great hope that God will grant me the chance to partner with a wonderful daughter of God and become a good parent so that I can raise up my seed to serve and honour the God who richly blesses us. I think I understand Samuel's mom now and Mary the mother of Christ who both gave up their sons to the service of God, first at the tabernacle, and the latter in Gethsemane. But if not, I know it's not because God doesn't love me. He does. Thank you, Lord, for this blessing, for I know thou lovest me and that thou wouldst not allow this to happen if not for my eternal best good. In God I still trust.

Sick Days

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It's been so long since I took a sick day that I can't actually remember calling in sick to work since I moved to Vegas. Usually I use my sick leave to visit the doctor, but I'm in generally good health and don't have any reason to play hooky as it were even if I were out of personal leave days. Every time I teach Microbiology, however, I do catch something, and although I thought going into finals week that I'd skirted the danger this year, I learned that Murphy's Law does apply and fell ill again. I am glad I have sick days and that I infrequently need to use them. There are many reasons to rejoice at being healthy. I hate being sick because I feel like an entire day is wasted, like I achieved nothing with my time. I hate being sick because I hate the feeling of being sick. I hate being sick because it reminds me that I am not omnipotent and that I am alone. It's as if the day didn't actually happen. At least I didn't screw up anything. At least there was a way by which I could be made whole again.

I could never be bulimic. If, in order to lose weight, I had to vomit, I would just accept my physique. Fortunately for me, since I hate vomiting so much, I don't vomit much as an adult. Most of the time when I do, it's because, like happened to me Monday night, I caught Norvovirus, a stomach bug that makes you vomit for 24H and then leaves you alone. A few times, it's because I swallowed something poisonous, and my stomach made sure I got rid of it. Each time you get sick, you feel miserable. You feel sometimes like you will die even though you were sick before and survived, but it's a miserable way to feel, particularly since usually you must wait for it to run its course and hope that your immune system is still competent enough to clear it. You try to stay positive, like Charlie Sheen, but you don't feel very good. What bothers me most about sickness is when coworkers and students come to work, obviously sick, and put me at risk to share in their misery! I'm sure they brought enough for everyone.

The work of a sick day is to rest, recover, and return. As much as I would have liked to do other things Tuesday, every time I got up, I felt lousy. By afternoon, when I was able to sleep for more than 2 hours without an interruption to vomit or something, I finally felt like I'd made progress against the disease. It was also around 4PM, getting dark, and late enough that I knew the day was shot. When I called in that morning, I had every intention of going in at noon and soldiering through, but when I awoke from my nap, I knew there was no point. The day was shot. When you get sick, it's difficult if not impossible to do anything terribly productive. I cancelled class, emailed students about the alternative assignment, emailed the secretary to ask her to put a note on the door, but aside from that I can't recall achieving a single thing aside from planning for Wednesday.

When I was younger, there was someone to administer to my relief. By evening, I finally had the wherewithal to get up and make some "sick soup" like mom used to make when I was sick. It's sort of bland, made with chicken bouillon, and not very filling, but I didn't want to risk much else in my dilapidated state of health. As fit as I am, being in better shape, at a lower weight, and in good health doesn't mean I won't or can't catch a pathogen. As amazing as my life is, it reminded me that when I am low, most people don't know unless I tell them, and nobody gets involved unless I explicitly ask. Several people contacted me, the youngest was 46 and the eldest is 62, and they all seemed concerned, but they have their own lives and their own struggles, and we're not that friendly. I guess it's nice I don't have to take care of someone else who is sick, and I suppose it was nice to be able to sleep without distractions. My dog knew, and he checked in on me and slept near me (except when I was downstairs on the couch which for a while was the only comfortable place).

Since I survived, I guess I can chock up the day as a victory. I didn't make anything worse, and I didn't get worse. I broke even aside from being a day older. You probably get sick with some kind of periodicity anyway, so having a sick day or two every year isn't that bad of a deal I guess. I didn't commit any sins, but I didn't do anything virtuous. I didn't get any work done, but all the new work I created was laundry, which I would do anyway eventually. I may have even lost weight since my pants feel more loose and since I didn't eat for a day. Most of all, I got rid of what ailed me. You see, we are all sick in a way, and sometimes the price of healing is a painful one. There are things in us that we wish were not, things that affect us that we wish would not, and things about us that we wish were otherwise. Like I tell my nursing students, most patients hope there's a magic pill that will make things go away without any real effort, when in reality sometimes as a course of the way we live we create our own suffering.

In this Christmas season, consider the ways in which you can alleviate the plight of the sick. If you find someone who needs your help, and as you recognize your own need for help, be the agent of healing. After you tend to the mortal and transitory needs of the afflicted, turn those who are spiritually, psychologically, and emotionally sick to the Healer of our Souls, the Christ. For Jesus Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day to save us from the woes of sin when we had gone astray. This Christmas, you can be the tidings of comfort and joy. You can rest, recover, and return the lost. You can administer to their relief and care for those who are ill. You can help them understand that the misery can end and that healing will leave them in a better place. Sickness helps us appreciate wellness, and you can do small things to help people around you become whole again. Since I continue to face Christmas alone, I found a family this year to rescue as well. After Thanksgiving when a family near me was evicted, I stepped in to stop that for a family I actually know, and Tuesday night when another family near me had to move out because of a fire in their house I offered them a bed in mine. I don't do this to toot my horn; I say this so that you know I practice what I preach. "For inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me". I have no other gift to bring parumpapumpum that's fit to give a king. These are the gifts Christ would have us give. For Christ came not to save them that are whole but they that are sick, and He asks us to do the same.

Comfort of the Familiar

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At church yesterday, a woman recounted her child's adverse reaction to meeting Santa Clause this season, because he's not familiar to the child. In ways he understands, the child accepts Santa. Since his mother wears glasses and his father is fat, that's fine, but he isn't really sure how to react to a beard and red suit. It's the common reaction of people to eschew the unfamiliar and in some extreme cases to vilify it because they do not understand it. What's familiar is easier usually. Whether due to fear or to laziness, or to circumstances beyond our control, sometimes we must sacrifice the familiar. Sometimes, greater comfort comes when we surrender the familiar for the better.

Sometimes we stay with what's familiar because we fear the unknown. My father asked the woman serving continental breakfast if she was a local. She admitted having left but returning to this rural area because of discomfort with, fear about, and bad experiences in other places. I understand the tranquility of the familiar. Unfortunately and thankfully on occasion of my father's military service, we left his ancestral home, moved around constantly, and learned to cope with unfamiliar and uncomfortable circumstances. I know that not everyone has this kind of courage. I know that sometimes you find yourself swept up by exigent forces and taken from where you would like to be to where your family wants to take you. Not everyone has parents like mine, and not everyone who moves around like I did enjoys it. However, I have a coworker who remembers being persecuted by members of my Faith as a young teen, and my late friend Tracie told me the same. Even I am ostracized here by the community of the believers, but that's ok because I'm not sure I want to be familiar with their spoils and secret combinations.

Sometimes it takes time and effort to make the unknown familiar. My oldest niece thinks I'm the bees knees. I think it helped that I saw her so many times this year. Between the family funerals and my visit to my brother this summer, she knows me, trusts me, loves me, and involves me. She dragged me around all weekend wanting to show UNCLE her stuff. I'm not her only uncle, and I'm not the one who lives closest, but I don't have anyone else to whom to pay attention on our visits, and I'm a lot of fun. I think it helped that I stayed at their place this summer so that she got used to my being there each night and morning, and when we drove away Sunday afternoon, she asked if I could stay. I think I'm her favorite adult playmate. In church, she followed all of my instructions and then walked around holding my hand. Most of the other young ladies I meet don't like my beard, my job, my car, my address, my attitude, or whatever and find a reason to hang out with other people, but this young girl really thinks I'm an amazing guy. I am. I made her feel important. I made her feel safe. Most importantly, I made several visits, and so she recognizes me when I point at her and doesn't care that I have a beard.

Sometimes no matter how hard we try, the unknown or uncomfortable never becomes comfortable, safe or acceptable. I am very pleased that for over five years my ex wife has been completely silent. I am very sad that, almost a decade after our divorce, it's still not really any easier to live down, understand, or handle. I'm also sad that, only six months after the death of my grandparents that I'm mostly ok with it; I feel like I should miss them more. There are things I like about my neighborhood, but I have many neighbors I will never even really know, let alone like, because they speak Spanish incessantly and don't try to build a community with the rest of us. There are things I like about my exercise regimen, but I have hurt myself overdoing things because I don't know when to quit or have any reason to. As much as friends may care about me, they're not there when I really need them, and so I am left most evenings to take care of problems myself. Despite the many reminders, I am still not convinced of my state of grace, my worth, or my desirability. I know I'm fighting politics and preference, but I did sit in my brother's congregation and wonder as I do in mine why these men found mates and I have to buy a container of dates if I want one. It seems contradictory. I soldier on anyway.

I'm not convinced that life should be comfortable and familiar however because that prevents growth, adventure, experimentation and education. I've met several students who never left the city limits. I know many people who have the same friends since they were six. I know people who always hike the same trails, do the same activities, and go the same places. I understand that there is comfort in the familiar and measurement in repetition, but I also know that it is CHILDREN who thrive on repetition. My three year old niece likes the familiar, the repetitive, and the easy to understand. It's a childish notion and prevents our growth and progress as adults to stick only to the things and people we know we like. If I did that, I would have missed meeting wonderful people, seeing wondrous sites, tasting delicious food, and learning skills, habits, and activities that enlarged my world. Just as if you stay in your warm blanket on a cold winter's day you might miss the serene beauty of snow and lights of the Christmas season, burying yourself in what you know keeps you from discovery. Don't let what MIGHT happen keep you from discovering what will. Risk it. Try it. If you don't like it, the familiar will still be there.

In the end, no matter how comfortable the familiar might be, if it's not right, it's not something you should keep. The reverend mother asks Fraulein Maria in "The Sound of Music" what she thinks the most important lesson is she learned since deciding to become a nun. Maria answers: "To find the will of God and do it wholeheartedly." It is NOT familiar to leave Egypt and cross the Sinai; it is NOT familiar to worship God and abstain from what everyone else does; it is NOT familiar to store up grain for a famine when things seem to be profitable; it is NOT familiar to build an ark; it is NOT familiar to go tell people to repent. It is also NOT easy to follow God.  It takes time and patience and practice before we, like my toddler niece, feel comfortable in His presence and trust Him enough to follow His commands and put our life in His hands.  However, it is RIGHT to do what God asks. It is right that, after God visits us, we should love Him enough to ask Him to stay with us.  I will confess I haven't really hashed out what His will for me seems to be, but I have done things He asks that were neither comfortable nor familiar and ended up in a better place. It IS right to follow Him; it IS right to go where He calls; it IS right to live as He advises and commands; it IS right to be right with Him even if He's the only one with whom we are right. The fullness of His gospel is to do the will of the God who sent Him. The fullness of His blessings are to enter into His rest where we will only be comfortable if the way He lives is familiar to us. At judgment, very few people will protest because they will be comfortable with what they are familiar. Only those who learn to live like God will be comfortable in His presence. Only those who follow Him will know Him, trust Him, and love Him. We will only find comfort in Christ when He is familiar to us.

Willfully Obstinate of External Authority

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The rising generation continues to confuse me in many ways, not the least of which is their sense of self-importance. They seem convinced of the notion that each of them is the center of the universe and that everyone else ought play a supporting role to their own. Consequently, any effort to control them, manage expectations, or instruct them is met with resistance. I know that when I was young I was also convinced that I knew everything, but today they find allies in other places willing to coddle them whenever they feel their omniscience, omnipotence, and omniportence threatened by any other authority that does not validate their worth.

Young people reject the advice of the experienced and try to prove their own superiority. I know this isn't technically new, but in this age, they don't seem willing to admit that they were wrong and patch up breaches in relationships, just leaving them in tatters after they cut off people they claim to care about. The twin sister of a girl I once dated disinvited me from a camping trip after I questioned significant details missing from the planning of our wilderness adventure. She didn't like the fact that I brought up concerns about things she hadn't considered (because she was only 21) and took it as personal criticism. Sure enough, those things all interfered with the trip, but I didn't have to worry, and soon thereafter the family cut all ties. A woman I know who married someone her parents told her was a bad choice who is now raising three girls alone. She doesn't turn to her parents for help. She cut them off, and she is so desperate to prove her worth that she's drowning in debt trying to make her way with this baggage without anyone's help. I'm the only old friend from ten years ago with whom she still talks, but I think it's because I made a significant financial gift to help her children's medical issues. One of the volunteers on the mountain injured herself this summer in a physical activity which requires someone else to keep an eye on you. Even when I suggested she see someone, she insisted on waiting until she went home the next opportunity to see "her" doctor. By then, the damage is entrenched. She knows better than I do.

Teachers have been denuded of authority in the classroom. My student who wrote my very first negative review blamed me for her lack of success. She claimed to be an "A" student, but her work at the collegiate level wasn't sufficient to earn that score. Even compared to her classmates, she was simply above average, but she didn't wait until term ended to voice her malcontent, and it got so bad her classmates complained to me. I have a current student who is upset with me for pointing out the obvious and apparent that she is absent except when there are exams. When I made a comment one evening about the relationship between attendance and performance, although I do not require attendance, and pointed out that I knew the person who was chronically absent, someone told her, and she sent me an email attesting to how she took that personally. Maybe I'm old school, but I think that if you don't come and you're the only one absent every class, you shouldn't be surprised when people notice. Even her two lab partners were dissatisfied with this, but apparently she's not angry with them. Students blame professors for their grades. Rather than take credit in many instances, the younger students go and complain. My first semester teaching, I had a student claim I failed her because she was black. She left half of the questions on the test blank. I can't give credit for questions you don't attempt. In this recent cartoon, it shows the shift in accountability from the student to the teacher, and it frustrates me that I have to continually defend myself against these people, as if they have any idea how to do my job.

People pick partners based on shared interests rather than shared values. I worked for a young lady on the mountain this summer who probably blew me off as a potential companion for any reason after I tried to coach her. She probably realized I could not be manipulated. Although I genuinely attempted to help her become successful and express genuine concern, she kept me at arms' length and then hung out with other people. She even refused to hike with me although she did agree to go with "1MPH Bob". Likewise, my ex wife couldn't be taught anything. I would disagree with her and take the verbal lashing. Then, when the truth validated me, I would suffer again while she sulked and gave me the silent treatment. Afterwards, she often took credit for the learning experience herself, as if she realized it all on her own and I had never mentioned anything contrary to her original error. The last member of my own Faith that seriously considered me moved on when she realized she wouldn't wear the pants in the family. Once, she tried to lay down the law, and I told her when she had her own place, a real job, and any inkling I would sit down and discuss the terms with her. Why should she boss me around? What were her accomplishments to set her up as subject matter expert? Instead, she found a guy who was willing to be a boot licking toady, and they are living a life of mediocrity on the opposite ocean.

I think about myself when I make these observations in other people, and I admit that I sometimes disobey not only earthly but also heavenly guidance and authority. However, I am past the place where I would do it defiantly, willingly, and obstinately when some external authority comes at me for the sake of resisting. Come to me with a reasonable rational or with a loving countenance, and I will move heaven and earth to do what I can. I don't know how to get through to the rising generation. They do not seem to recognize any authority besides their own, anyone's worth besides their own, anyone's opinions besides their own, and it gets in the way. It stops relationships and progress. It's also a sign of the times. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, and I add by way of editorialization, unteachable. I don't know how to get through to these people, and soon if it hasn't already the opportunity will end and I will be sorry that it is so.

Evidence Suggests...

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I've struggled many ways in 2015. Not the least of which, I've struggled to keep my sense of self-worth in a world that accounts me as dross and refuse. Both last Tuesday and last night, two different students pointed out in conversations with me that I seem like I don't feel like I'm worthy. When you consider the messages I receive, it's easy to understand why I feel like I'm bottom shelf and last choice. I know I'm not top shelf. I am a man of science, and unless I'm misinterpreting the data, the evidence that I receive communicates that I am not worthy of being chosen but that I am bottom shelf, last ditch, bottom line, and what people pick when all other lights go out.

At work, they decided to gloss over, miss, or simply ignore me in many ways. I took this summer off from teaching in order to complete a psychological science experiment. I wondered if they were taking advantage of me teaching and wanted them to know that they need me. I still earn the same amount teaching as I always have (aside from the small raise of 2.9% the legislature authorized last summer), and I'm scheduled next spring to teach three unique courses (all of which I have actually taught before, but not concurrently). The lead chemistry faculty member asked me to never take off during summer again because they need me, and last night a student confirmed that conclusion since her class lost all but five students. When I stepped in to take over this abandoned microbiology class, I think that helped me since the new Department CHair is from Math and doesn't know me from Calvin Coolidge. Now, I'm an asset. However, I've struggled getting support from the lab prep staff which essentially told me that they can't support my requests for additional labs in this course, the previous instructor having not scheduled any past his anticipated departure date. I applied for another job recently and didn't even get an interview, and the last job the former Department CHair asked to to apply for was given to the incumbent who has only a BS and now earns more than I do. Although I know they need me more than I need them, they continue to send me messages in NSHE that I am not welcome, valued, or needed. The students disagree. I disagree. However, I look and sound very much like I don't feel like I'm worth much, and I'm getting tired of it.

Even in my own Faith, members send the message that I'm at best tolerated in their presence. The congregation in which I reside ignored me, ostracized me, and slandered me until I decided to leave, and I'm not the first person to whom they did so. Yet, they continue to pat themselves on the back and say "what a good boy am I!". I don't really know what I expect because I'm the exception to the rule. There's a misbegotten and misguided stigma against you if you are over 30 and unmarried, and those who didn't have to worry don't really know how to empathize or interact with us. I even offered to a former student of mine who is in a congregation that shares our building for worship to help her if she finds that her congregation isn't supportive, but I think women have a better shot. I'm not grousing on these people personally. Many of these people don't really know what to do or say or how to handle it, and neither do I, but there are some in this new congregation who at least try to talk to me, keep abreast of what's afoot, and at least feign interest in my life, activities, and person. I appreciate their efforts. I know they would like to offer something useful. I also know they don't really know how.

Romantically it's even more pronounced. In nearly a decade since I was divorced, I have not found anyone in whom I was interested who reciprocated enough to actually choose me. One special woman came very close and probably left due to exigent circumstances. The rest showed that they were selfish and that they really didn't like me for who I was. I have several female friends 46 years of age and older, but they are classy, wise, and selfless enough to not push themselves on me since I cannot get where I want to go being with them. By and large, they are no longer capable of having children, they all have children already, and they are not demanding or expecting me to take on their obligations when I can find someone in my same life stage, maybe. Meanwhile, despite my strenuous physical exertions, the women willing to pay attention to me find some reason to follow the ABCD Theorem: Anything But Choose Doug. So, I naturally feel like I am undesireable because the women who are available are not interested and the ones who are interested are not available. I went out in October to see a play with my youngest older female friend. I wondered what I was thinking and then I realized I was spending time with people willing to spend time with me. It's not much, and they don't really have friends young enough to date me (most of them think I'm about 45 years old), but it beats a swift kick in the shin or being ignored by young available girls who don't seem to realize that I average 30,000+ steps and 4000+ calories EVERY SINGLE DAY (on Sunday it's only about 15,000 and 3300 respectively). Last Tuesday, my student warned me against continued communication with a young lady who turns to me only when nobody else will pay attention to her. True to her prediction, at 3PM Thanksgiving, I heard from her, when she was lonely and assumed I would have nothing better to do than entertain her. Now she doesn't really want to hang out with me; I've been used this way all my life.

I am part of my own problem as well. I am acutely aware of and intimately familiar with my shortcomings and weaknesses, and they are legion. I know they probably aren't any more egregious or abundant than those of others, but I know them. Other people don't feel threatened by their shortcomings and seem prone to offer themselves amnesty for any aberrant or abhorrent behavior in which they engage. Many of them don't have any standards, but those who know I do are quick often to point out the mote and the beam in my eye. I know I'm not perfect. I never claimed to be. I'm trying. I get knocked down, but I get up again. I'm not sure from whence to draw strength when at work, at church, and in social settings the only people who seem to see good in me are people I do not expect to act to alter my stars. I'm doing the best I can with what I have. I acted on the opportunities that presented themselves to the best of my ability, and the bottom line communicated tells me that I'm a day late or a dollar short.

When I pray, I feel God's approbation which gives me solace. Consequently, I continue to be who I am and say what I think knowing that if I can find someone who likes me for exactly who I am I'll be best off. Last Tuesday, that's what my student said happened to her, and since it also kind of happened to me once with a Geautiful Birl, hope guides me and gets me through the din, dim, and dissonance of discouragement and dejection. If you forgive the profanity in reference to the movie Juno, her father gives her the same advice as Paul Brandt gave in his book that my sister gave me six years ago. Find someone who loves you for exactly who you really are. He says, "The right person will still think the sun shines out your ass." I think I had that once, and it was awesome. Evidence suggests I might have been mistaken, at least the evidence available to me. For all of you who think I'm "amazing wrapped up in a man", thank you for your support. If it is God's will that I find someone, I know that I will in the right time, the right place, and for the right reason. If not, evidence suggests I'm awesome, and I'll find a way to leave something behind hopefully that means something, helps civilization, and pleases my Maker.