In the Nick of Time

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Before I start exams, I ask students if they have any last requests- glass of water, crust of bread, or platoon of marines to rescue them in the nick of time. All of them hope for some greater power to swoop in and rescue them, because that's a natural reaction for humans in a troubling situation. Fact of the matter is, many situations in life are troubling, and we count down the seconds watching, waiting, and hoping for something to come in that last second and rescue us from ourselves, from our enemies, and from powers that confound us because we happen to be there when they act. It's usually too late by then, because the opportunities for rescue are offered all the time, not just when the last seconds tick away. It's often our fault we stand there hoping in that last moment for a rescue. It's the entire point of what we believe in worshipping that higher power- that at a special time and for all time rescue occurs, for great things and small things because that's why there is a Higher Power.

Although common in fiction, it is rare that rescue comes right in the last minute. Pardons come a few minutes late, the weather clears after the band already packed up and drove home, and you win a scholarship contest during your last semester of college. Usually, opportunities abound in advance to help you not only avoid bad circumstances but also to avail yourself of other positive opportunities. The story is told of a man who asked God to rescue him during a flood. After turning away a helicopter, a motor boat, and a raft, he drown and complained to God that he wasn't rescued. God told him, "I sent you a helicopter, a motor boat, and a raft. What else did you want?" Most of our rescues, I hypothesize, come in ways that we do not even know we are being rescued or saved from calamity. Years ago, while on my way to Sacramento, I stopped on the on-ramp to help an older woman change a flat tire. That delayed me enough that a large accident just east of Sacramento only slowed my progress. I cannot say I would have been caught up in it, but it was not a worry because I made another choice and rescued someone else. In doing so, I may have rescued myself too.

Usually, rescue comes too late because we decide to procrastinate. I knew last September that something was wrong in my house. The AC was loud. The fan was squeaky. The air didn't seem as cold as I expected it to be. Then, it cooled off, winter came, and months of beautiful weather went by. Then, I worked FAR more sections than I should and didn't have time. So, I'm lucky that I decided to take care of this just before a huge and historic heat wave decided to blanket the west in warmth. Thursday, it's supposed to hit 107F, meaning it will be uncomfortable when he gets here to install the unit, but that's better than 111F, which it's supposed to hit this weekend. Good thing I didn't procrastinate any longer! I'm still young, and like many other young people, I think I have plenty of time for this, that and the other. How tragic is it then, when young people procrastinate opportunities until it's too late. How tragic is it for those who, while young, defy virtue, morality, and the commandments, and die without taking the chance to repent, change their direction, and repair the damage.

When we are saved in the nick of time, it is usually divine. I am not saying that God intervenes to make sure we are snatched from the jaws of stupidity, but I'm old enough to know that coincidence is usually an illusion. I don't think it's coincidence that THIS time I actually not only remembered to call but actually made the call so that the parts could arrive and be installed before I suffered needlessly. I recall one night riding the train home from Vienna as a missionary when I awoke in the train just in time to catch the announcement that we were pulling into our stop. I flew to the window and threw up the sash and told my greenie that we needed to debark the train immediately. It wasn't a matter of life or death; it saved us riding all the way to Salzburg, waiting an hour, and taking a train back and arriving after midnight. I cannot tell you how many times I have felt impressions that turned out to be wise. God's hand is very evident in my life, which is why I continue in the path I walk. I have seen His hand, however figuratively, and I know He knows it, and I cannot deny it.

God blesses us all the time, just not usually in the timing or manner we might hope. However, the things that matter to us matter to Him because WE matter to Him. I do not intend to suggest we trouble Him with the trivialities of life- our wardrobe, our diet, what car to buy, which campsite to pick, etc., but if something bothers us, He will help us because He loves us. He sent His son in "the nick of time" to save us from sin, and He will send His angels in the nick of time to save us from the foibles and feebles of mortality if we ask. All of our worship, all of our ministry exists to remind us to go up higher, to look up higher, and to believe in something higher than ourselves. It tells us that failure and falling are inevitable. It tells us that we are in need of rescue and more importantly that we are WORTHY of rescue. It invites us when we struggle to look upward and when we fall to seek mercy. That special Nick of Time in the Meridian of Time, that moment in which He hung, makes it so that we do not have to hang for a moment, for any moment, let alone for all time. We will be saved in the nick of time, and these events in our lives remind us of that truth, that when it really matters, He will step in and rescue us.

Blubbering

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Warning: This is a post that contains murmuring and complaining by me about other things. Sometimes you just have to vent...

Sometimes, it's very difficult for me to sit at church and swallow what they say. Today, some guy got up and blubbered about how his wife is so much better than he is, and that he'd be hopeless without her. As he blubbered on, I grew angry. I felt like it was impossible to be a good man without a woman at my side. I am surprised, having heard so many of these stories, that I achieved anything at all with my life. I am surprised, having heard so many men say this, that they don't fall apart at the seams. I am surprised, having heard this so many times, that women aren't interested in me at all. I mean, come on, I have so many things they could "fix". They say that behind every great man was a woman, but they like to assume coincidence is causality. Even if it is, that doesn't mean she changed a man for the better.

The woman wasn't necessarily related directly to a man's changes or success. I credit my ex wife for a lot of what and how I am today. She didn't do any of that on purpose, and she certainly didn't act to help me become a better man. Her idea of improvement was to browbeat me into submission, and when I decided that if I was going to be damned anyway I would be damned for who I really was, she left. Similarly, another woman I dated told me when she broke up with me that she didn't mean to hurt me. I told her to do something that would heal me, and she proceeded to ignore me completely for months. That healed me, but that's not why she did it. She did it to be selfish. People rightly correlate the broken behaviors of men to the reticence and resistance of women, but men are not the only ones who make promises they do not intend to keep. I've been mocked, belittled, ignored, dumped, and all sorts of things, and my response has been to become a better man than they thought I was and prove them wrong about me. Some of that is to essentially say, "you missed an opportunity", but it's also to prove to myself that sometimes it's the girls.

The woman isn't necessarily the one you expect. It's obvious to draw correlations to a spouse for things; you see it constantly in thank you speeches when they credit their spouse for support and encouragement. However, there are other people who participate who often go uncredited, and sometimes the women in our lives are not so helpful. My late friend Tracie had a mother who was awful and a spouse who was absolutely hellish, so sometimes the people who help out aren't related to or involved with you at all. My mother is the only woman in my life to whom I can accredit any success. During high school, she persisted when I resisted to make sure that I applied for as many college applications as possible on time and the best that I could. When I served as a missionary, she's the one who reminded me to dry clean my suits and helped me find a potential religious convert.

The woman isn't necessarily always a good thing. Some people are really lucky to be with a good woman. There are some men I envy because they have great women. However, just because a person is a woman doesn't mean they are good or helpful or part of the solution. Sometimes they are just arm candy. Sometimes, they are problematic. I have a cousin in town who married a cute young gal who made sure that he never spends any time with his friends or his own family any more. I don't know if it's on purpose, but she's made it hard for him to keep his old life. The outgoing dean of our department is a woman, and she doesn't like me one bit. I am not sure if it's because I have a Y chromosome or because of my religion or because she just has a chip on her shoulder. When problems arise that deal with the college's mission, she jumps into action; when problems arose for me, she jumped to help other people. I'm not validating her worth, and she doesn't like that. Several women I tried to date took similar attitudes when I didn't validate their worth, cutting off all contact when I wouldn't join their gym, when I called off a hike for bad weather because I wasn't "adventurous enough", and when they discovered my religion. What I achieved in my life I achieved in spite of women rather than because of them. Many men achieve more because their wife lives a life that demands increased success. Sometimes, it's something simple and worthy like the addition of children that motivates them to advance their career, gain more education, and move to a better place. In my experience, however, it's usually because the expenditures grow, necessitating that the man earn increasingly more to keep up with the outcome of his income. It's no secret that many women marry lawyers and doctors because they want a certain standard of living rather than they care about being well matched.

Women are not always a benefit, and all too often in modernity they become a burden. Women used to come with a dowry, but times have changed, and now they come with expectations. They expect all too often to leave their parents house and start their own new one with no lapse in living conditions even though it took their parents 20 years or more to achieve that comfort and luxury. Equally often, they take very little thought to what they bring. I am glad these men think that the women they know added to their lives and made them better. I attract women with children, women with financial problems, and women who will make my life more difficult. They say that opposites attract. I am glad these men I hear speak at church found different outcomes and found good partners, well matched mates, and supportive wives. I don't know how they did it. I am amazed I amounted to anything at all without a wow woman, but I have. Maybe it's not as much as they have, but to hear them blubber they would be hopeless without one.

Crime Wave

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Only eleven days after I was mugged on the way home from the grocery store, two more crimes occurred within 100 meters of the first one. Hopefully since things happen in threes this completes the triad and promises an era of calm. I've been attacked and robbed, and now two teenagers tried to kick down my door. If not for the quick thinking and fortuitous circumstances of a neighbor noticing, they might have made entry to my last refuge- my house. That very night, someone came into the neighborhood and tagged cars with white paint. After five years of complete calm, I feel singled out as a target for criminals when all I do is mind my own business. It's sad. I have been doing these walks for over a year and passed all sorts of homeless people, people of other demographics, people with nothing better to do, and people who disagree with me on many issues without fearing them or having to care about what they do. It's no wonder we lack a sense of community in America when you have to wonder if the people around you are interested in helping you or hurting you.

The criminals come from demographics that do not respect law and order. When I talked to the department secretary about my string of bad luck and she learned the melanin content of the suspects, she vented that maybe they won't learn because maybe their parents don't care. Let's face it- if your parents are illegal aliens, you come to America with a bad example of law and order, and at best your parents can say "do as I say not as I do" since they came here by committing a crime. When my mother told the lead felony secretary in the District Attorney's office about my being mugged and was told the attacker was black, she responded "figures". They have been taught by their parents to hate us, that their plight comes because they were robbed, and so now they assume the right to rob us back. Unfortunately, morality and justice are on my side. They rail against an alleged offense I did not give perpetrated against those not alive to be offended. A former student worker originally from Mexico once told me that the only reason his people want this part of America is because white people made it prosperous. I can't tell you how many black people I see jaywalking near the grocery only to yell at and use obscene gestures towards vehicles that aren't pushovers as they saunter across with their pants around their ankles. Why should I expect them to respect my property line, my threshold, my privacy, and my stuff when they don't take care of their own, even their own people?

The criminals obviously have nothing better to do. Without jobs, without money, without purpose, these miscreants roam the streets craving the syrupy juices of those who do. When I was out after 8PM, I was running errands, but the highwayman who attacked me was out wandering around, probably in a drugged stupor. He wasn't carrying anything I could see, and he probably didn't even have identification or a cell phone. When the teenagers kicked down my door, they were truant from school at 1030AM wandering around up to no good; there is no reason for them to be roaming about on a Monday morning unsupervised. I mean, seriously, who wanders around in the dark at night damaging the property of others? Maybe if they had homework or jobs or parents who cared about what they were up to,

The criminals reflect the principles shown by leadership. Concomitant to the current administration's governing theory, these criminals believe they have a right to things they did not earn. In our modern entitlement society, people think they have rights to many things that are not rights and that infringe on the rights of others. Everyone claims a right to healthcare without thinking about the rights of those who provide it. Well, you can't get more usually without taking it from someone else, and since most people don't have anything worth trading, including their labor, far too many people turn to crime in order to steal. The ends justify the means; it's only a crime if you get caught, and other irrational cliches dominate their thinking as they reduce my humanity to justify their inhumanity. The two youth who attempted to kick in my door told the officer who interviewed them that they felt like breaking in to steal stuff. They know it's not theirs. They know they are supposed to be in school. They didn't care. They must think that because I am a white guy that I obtained it by taking it from non whites. They talk about coming together only to talk about us in ways that drive us apart. Politicians constantly prattle a "raceless society" while they describe people based on their race. How can you stop noticing something when politicians constantly draw attention to it? We cannot be a community if we do not love our neighbors; we cannot love our neighbors unless we know them; we will not know our neighbors if we live in conditions where we go out of our way to avoid them because we're afraid they might commit crimes against us. However, this is how tyrannical regimes hold power- by pitting the populace against itself and making everyone suspicious of their neighbor so they don't have time to watch the government. It's the ultimate shell game- foment civil discord in order to play sleight of hand in order to "restore" order to a society they upset.

At first, I had second thoughts about pressing charges against the teenagers because of their age. However, I know that this behavior doesn't stop unless there are consequences. People who live on welfare, use drugs, cheat on tests, cheat on their spouse, steal from their neighbors, commit murder, etc., don't usually stop unless they are caught, if they stop even then. What would stop them from returning to try again better the second time if I let them go? Besides, I'd already been a victim of a crime, and if I continue to let them walk all over me in the name of "forgiveness" I do injustice to myself by making myself a doormat. You cannot love your neighbor as yourself if you do not love yourself, and I cannot love myself unless I stand up for myself. I am not oppressing them. I don't know them. If they feel put upon, they should appeal to the law for redress like I did. I could shoot them, but this is a merciful response. It might not be as merciful as the miscreant class demands, but I am giving them another chance that their own death cannot afford. Now, when I walk or jog or bike, I am continually circumspect, concerned about every person I encounter, cautious, careful. It's impossible to get near to people if you hold them at bay, but I don't know how else to respond. Any other response is naive and foolish, to assume it won't happen again or that if I meet my attackers they'll be fine now. They were not neighborly, merciful, just, kind, or charitable to me. They do not get to be the moral authority and demand those things from me after showing me naught but disaffection and condescension. It is exceptionally arrogant to assume and presume the right to something someone else has because you think you deserve it more and it is villainous to take those things by force. It shocks the villains when you fight back; the bully is used to people not resisting. I am tired of letting people walk all over me, and I will turn to the police or the courts for redress because next time if I don't defend myself there may be nobody else to prevent my ruin or death.

Rules Do Apply

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We agree to interact with other people because we believe that the rules apply to everyone. Contracts in business, mortgage agreements and other loans, marriage vows, sporting events, and even oaths to God reciprocally obligate both parties to act in good conscience and do their best on their honour to do right unto the other party. I know that sometimes circumstances prevent our efforts to do justice to our oaths, but our integrity is all we really have. Last Sunday night, I packed up and left my parents' house in a huff when my dad decided to cheat at a card game to help my sister. They may never understand, but for me it was a no win scenario. I could not abide a change in the rules that made the game unfair, even if they were to cheat to help me, and I could not stay and legitimate this behavior by my continued presence, and so I left and in so doing gave potential offense. In the end, I have to live with myself, and I cannot in good conscience abide in a world where the players decide to hang the rules.

As a young man, these principles were deeply ingrained in me by parents, teachers, and my own decisions. Many experiences reinforced to me what happens when you break the rules, and I made a decision to make the law my protector. During my final year of religious seminary, one morning, to illustrate the parable of the Bridegroom, our teacher announced a change in class policy. Anyone late would find the door locked, entry denied, and not be able to join class for the day. As luck would have it, I of all people arrived late and, finding the door locked, departed for school early. The teacher, however, capitulated and let the other stragglers join class after an unknown interval of time. When I next saw her, she expressed her sorrow that I had not been able to attend the lesson. On the contrary, the lesson was more profound than any she could have ever taught me. I was the only one punished because the rules mean something to me. I was locked out.  Lesson learned. When Thomas More was threatened in his sentencing with "justice", he said, "Then I am not threatened." The law is supposed to exalt us, to protect us, and to reward us for virtue, exactness and honour. When the rules apply, I do not worry about other people, their aberrant or abhorrent behavior, or their mistakes, because I know that justice will reward me.

Sometimes justice is seemingly cheated because a higher morality was satisfied. One rainy night shortly after moving to my current residence, I ran a red light on the way home. As I cleared the intersection, I noticed a cop in line to turn, so when she turned the corner and turned on her lights to pursue me, I pulled over, shut off the car, and waited for her. Fortune favored me that evening, and she elected to just give me a warning. I actually asked her, "Are you sure you don't want to give me a ticket?" As much as I don't need it on my record or to afford to pay the fine, I believe the rules apply to me too. I'm not one of those nincompoops who demands the rules apply to others when I am wronged but who demands mercy when I perpetrate wrongs on others. I agree to be part of civil society with the understanding that the rules apply to everyone. Unlike most people, who balk and moan and weep when the consequences punish them but celebrate the punishment of others, I was honestly willing to own the consequences. I am not saying I like them or want them or don't need or want the Savior to take them from me, but I am not foolish enough to think I can escape them. Almost every philosophical paradigm includes the premise that we reap what we sow, and if karma round trips on me, it certainly will round trip on you. I think in this instance I was getting out of a ticket I deserved like others, not because I tried to avoid it but because I was willing to take my stripes like a man.

As aforetimes on this blog, I stand up in my own Faith against wickedness in high places, priestcrafts, and unrighteous dominion. For some years now, I believe that my financial, professional, and ecclesiastical prospects have been hampered by the fact that I have stood up against bullies clothed in the black robes of a false priesthood. I am not afraid to speak out against unrighteousness and villainy, even if I face potential ramifications. I have stood up against civil, political, corporate, educational, and economical authorities because they were wrong. Doing the right thing for the wrong reason is still the wrong thing. Leaders in my own Faith taught us to do right things for the right reasons, to upgrade from good to better and best, and to raise the bar on ourselves. I know people want to do good, and that is commendable. The greatest thing we can achieve is to have an eye single to the glory of God as much as a man can because why we do a thing matters at least as much as what we do. I was taught as a youth that an evil man who gives a gift grudgingly is accounted before God as if he retained that gift, and that is why I don't believe in forcing anyone to do anything good against their will. When members of my Sunday School class told me last year that their parents were forcing them to go to something, I taught them that it was the devil's plan to force every man to obey so that he could take credit. If forcing people to do good worked, if the outcome was all that mattered, there would be no need for a Savior; these people in essence deny the Christ. The bully forces people to do what he wants. God cannot tempt men to virtue as the devil does to vice. He must encourage us to do so because we choose to follow Him. Years ago I wrote that there is no virtue in using the Adversary's methods to achieve the Father's goals, and I still believe that today.

The rules apply for good reason. Aristotle wrote that "the law is reason free of passion". I believe the law applies to everyone- regardless of your creed, your age, your wage, your looks, your ancestry, or anything else you happen to possess. Indeed everything we know truly relies on the rules applying. The rules determine what decisions we make. The rules determine the wages, the consequences, and the potential ultimate outcomes. We skirt the rules because we are not patient enough to wait for the rules and because we see other people prospering around us by flaunting the rules in order to enrich themselves in the moment with things of ultimately no moment. Nobody ever hears tell of how much money a man had, how much fun he had, how many people he cheated, how many women he misled, or any of the things about which men usually brag while alive when that man is laid to rest. Instead, they whitewash the memory by cherry picking small positive anecdotes from a life largely bereft of integrity. Far too many men escape punishment, guilt, sorrow, and work because they don't really believe the rules apply. Some of them think that men change the rules at whim. Some of them think that, if you discover the rules, the rules must be changed. Some only make rules to advance themselves. Some only make rules so that they can break them. Some think the rules are more like guidelines. Well, you have to be a pirate for the pirate's code to apply, and you're not. My attorney years ago warned me against my tendency to "sound guilty"; trouble is that I know I am. I also know that other people believe they are angels.  Like I tell my students, humans seem to be the only things allowed by the universe to bend the rules, but eventually, in order to maintain order, the universe snaps us back, slaps us in the face, and teaches us that we don't determine the rules or the outcomes.

I agree to play games because I believe the rules apply to everyone who plays. If you decide to change the rules in the middle of the game or if the rules benefit you at my expense, I have a right and a responsibility to leave the game. Unlike many in this wicked world for whom the ends always justify the means, I believe that only virtuous means can lead to virtuous ends, and I am not alone in that belief. You may not understand. You may be like Colonel Graff and feel that as long as we get our way nothing else matters. Well, how we win matters. When we sat down to play, we all knew and understood the rules, and no reasonable person would have understood or endorsed the change proposed carte blanch. It is only acceptable to some because it gives them leverage. I know that people like to win; I play to win. I am not interested in winning unless it's honest and true. I have to live with myself, and I cannot live knowing that anything I have was achieved because I tricked someone into dating me, paying me, helping me, accompanying me, believing me, feeling pity for me, or ultimately sacrificing themself for me. For me, how I win, if I win, matters more than winning. It is better for me to lose than to win by cheating. I am not a pirate. I am a knight. I have made oaths to God. I have not kept them as valiantly as I ought, but I intend to keep doing my honest best no matter what, and if I fail, I will at least fail knowing that the cause approved and that I was true to my own self and my Maker.

Without Law; Without Order

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I finally experienced a positive encounter with law enforcement for the first time in my life, which unfortunately happened only because I was mugged on the way home. Just before 9PM, not far from home, a black male ran up on me from behind, jumped me, and eventually made off with my backpack full of ammo and groceries. Several times, he menaced me, chased me, and threatened me, ultimately throwing things at me as I fled the scene before fleeing himself when I made contact with 911. Of course, we all know who the villain MUST be, because I'm a white guy, and we all know that under Obama all crime in America is the white man's fault. What's stupid is that it got escalated to violence, making it a felony, and essentially amounted to much ado about nothing. What he took is difficult if not impossible to fence, and so all he's done is set a target on his back. Even worse, I've walked by hundreds of people with similar demographics for over a year and never experienced anything worse than attitude and angry words, but this punk gave every one of his kind a black eye. It reminded me of the security guard at Walmart last November who made disparaging remarks about the way I was dressed. When I turned around and asked him if he wanted to say it to my face or just attack me from behind, he escalated to violence, making it felonious. I don't think people like this stop until they are caught or killed, which is unfortunate.

The man who mugged me did nothing but entrench my negative expectations of members of his culture. Without any provocation I can explain and without any real prospect of true profit, I was attacked from behind by this ruffian. In fact, all three attempts to rob me since I moved to this house were perpetrated by black people. The only time I was ever physically attacked with deadly force in my life was from a black man. What kind of a person attacks another, larger, adult male without a weapon? He must have been high or very desperate. What kind of a person thinks that I went to the bank at 8:30PM and filled a backpack with cash? I don't understand the compulsion to take from other people when it would be safer and easier really to get a job and work for it, especially since none of what he took was very liquid if at all. He was violent, aggressive, impulsive, compulsive, dedicated, angry, and above all cowardly. Does it make you feel like a man to attack someone from behind, to throw floor tiles at them as they run away, to threaten violence because you don't get your way? It's childish, greedy, barbarous, and cruel, but they treat their own people that way too. Both he and the guard were only willing to attack my back, prompting me to pay more attention to and watch my back against their ilk. Now, I will regard all members of his culture with suspicion and give them a wide berth. He has robbed the good parts of his culture from an opportunity to benefit from my beneficence and doomed them all to be targets of my scorn.

Even the cops struck me as odd. They were absolutely eager, interested, and helpful. After the older officer photographed the marks on my back, he looked around for other damage or signs of a scuffle. Unable to find any rocks of significant size, it was he who mentioned the tiles, and I remembered that pile of debris left by the garbage men the day prior and found the two shards cast at me in my flight. They took my word for it, and I appreciated that. They educated me about firearm carry laws, and I appreciated that. They encouraged me to carry, which surprised me since it's often difficult to discern in media res the villains from the heroes, especially where guns are concerned, and I know they are still on alert against their own being assassinated two summers ago. It felt almost wild west, and if I follow their counsel, I will be sauntering off to the store with my six shooter and leather holster strapped around my waist just like the cowboys of yesteryear. Maybe it simply boils down to "they need our help". I wonder if it dawned on the thief that, since I had .357mag ammo, I obviously have a gun for it and could have killed him. From now on, I'll carry it when I walk.  The strangest thing to me was the suggestion of the officers that I should indeed carry and use a firearm when and where necessary.  It seems Medieval to me.  It struck me as odd to hear from them how they wish we COULD carry on campus and that we SHOULD help abate crime by carrying weapons to discourage the vile and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violent and vicious violation of volition.

My best case scenario in this was to break even. Once he attacked me, I knew my best hope was to escape unscathed. My assailant would either get something more from me than he previously possessed or leave no worse off, but I would either be worse off or break even and go home shaken. The truth is that these people always have the advantage, because they decided themselves willing to cause bodily harm in order to achieve, but we haven't made that choice yet. Although the police officers were hot to trot that I should have shot and killed my assailant once they discovered I had 357 magnum ammo in the bag he took, I don't need the hassle. I hope it ends here, although I'm sure that now he's emboldened by a successful grab and flee. Now, I have to watch my back, and for at least the next several weeks, I'll look at every member of his race with an increased situational awareness and circumspect, because once again one of their ilk attacked me and took things from me. If I had shot him, I would have to live with that for the rest of my life. If I had shot him, I would need fear retaliation from his friends, family, or perhaps fellow gang members. If I had killed him, I would have had to prove that I fired under justified circumstances. Once I passed that investigation, I expect there would be a civil suit. Since I retaliated, I would have had to deal with the "Black Lives Matter" rotgut. The best I was going to do was break even. My attorney was right- it's better if you just let it go. I had no desire to kill that kid, but I don't think he'll stop unless he is arrested or killed. Once you escalate to firearms, you must be ready and willing to fire and fire for effect, and I don't carry because I'm not sure I'm ready to kill another citizen even if it might protect my life, particularly over a matter of $80. That sounds like something from a Back to the Future movie...

People amass wealth in order to get away from the anarchist and the lawless. Either we use it to move somewhere where things are better or purchase protection from their ilk in walled cities, mercenary armies, police forces or private weaponry. THen the government forces neighborhood integration for "equality" which is the condition of the past. This kind of thing a century ago was normal, that you might be attacked any time, any where, for any reason, particularly if you were wealthy or a woman.  Medievalism became modern, where people live in fear of one another, without law, and without order.  It saddens me to remember on earlier days when we didn't lock our doors, fear our neighbors, or go out of our way to protect what's ours against strangers who believe they possess right thereto.  I appreciate the perspective this gives me, that most people don't know what it's like to walk to the store five nights per week and walk home again safely and expect to be secure in their person and possessions, even in many countries today. My ancestors bought guns because they didn't know if the visitor wanted to share what he had or take from them. All he really took from me was my naivete; the rest was just "stuff", and I make it a point to not have stuff interesting to take so that people will leave me alone. I guess he just assumed that I had something worth taking. Joke's on him.

My Grandfather- The Hero

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On an otherwise inauspicious Sunday morning in Hawaii, my paternal grandfather arrived early to church to set up chairs for the worship service. He recounted to me once a decade ago how they heard the drone of planes overhead and found it odd that fighters were out that early on a Sunday morning, only to hear the air raid warnings and sounds of attack shortly thereafter. He was assigned to serve in the Japanese Mission as a missionary and sent to Hawaii only a few months before that rueful day, and he spent about three years preaching the gospel of Christ specifically to persons of Japanese descent in Hawaii. With our president traveling to Hiroshima in order to be "historic" rather than doing his job, I thought it prudent to pay homage to my paternal grandfather who really was a hero and a leader and a man who loved Japan. Of course, he served his country in the armed forces of the United States. I know from his stories and the people I met that he served valiantly as a man and as a missionary, continuing to teach until his dying day. He also took care of Japanese people he met as a consequence of his missionary service and took care of them as Jesus taught us.

Grandpa John finished his missionary service in 1943 when the Hawaiian/Japanese mission was officially closed. Almost immediately thereafter, the army drafted him, and he completed officer candidate school becoming a 2nd Lieutenant in the infantry. Once he confided in me that his greatest reservation was that he might have to kill a Japanese soldier. After having spent three years teaching the people of the Pacific Rim about Jesus, forgiveness, and repentance, it pained him to think he might consign any of their souls to hell, killing them before they were prepared to meet their Maker. I was on my way to visit him the day he died, and my grandmother gave me some of his military things to care for before the rest of the family arrived despite the fact that my father was his only military son. Despite his reservations, my grandfather heard and heeded the call to serve, following MacArthur into the Phillipines and then serving until V-J Day before returning home and getting back to work.

When the war ended, my grandfather went back to the life he intended to lead. Since the war interrupted his educational plans, he returned to the city of his birth and got a job. He married a fine woman, started a family, and helped build a community. Like on 7 December 1941, you could find him any day doing what duty demanded. He always made sure there were enough chairs. He arrived early and stayed late. He kept his word. He continued to teach about Christ and advocate for the articles of Faith he advocated as a missionary. After returning home, he kept in touch with the individuals with whom he served and with the people whom he taught. Many people benefitted from his teachings in an ecclesiastical capacity, his example in the Boy Scouts of America, and his perspective. The attendees at his funeral attested to the value of his input and the contributions he made to community and country. Every time I called or visited, every time we held a family reunion, every family gathering, he shared a thought intended to teach or reinforce principles he espoused. Although his final words to me seemed strange to "Say hello to all the pretty girls on campus" I realize now he knew that my best chance to find a companion was among the educated, the energetic, and the student body, because that's where teachers spend their time in contact with other people, and he cared about my fortunes.

I knew growing up that Grandpa John had a soft spot for Japanese people and knew many of them well, but it came as a surprise to walk into his funeral to see some of the ones in attendance. During his mission and after the war, my grandfather reached out to relatives of those he knew, some of whom were orphans, and attempted to nurture them in America. Some of them became leaders of the Faith, leaders of industry, and political figures, and a few of those came to pay their final respects to a mentor. My grandfather barely eked out an existence, but I know from seeing this that he stored up sheaves in heaven. They were the people he loved. I know my grandfather had his faults, but he truly came to see these people as children of God, and of all the peoples of the earth of differing backgrounds, if I had brought home a Japanese girl as a fiancee, I think my grandfather would not have even noticed any differences from us. He didn't need to go to Hiroshima to apologize or bow to the potentate of a foreign state. Instead, he took on their posterity and nurtured them. In many ways, my grandfather was Mr. Miyagi to the Daniels he met in his life, however reversed the roles might seem. We never really understood how much they meant to him until he died, but he made sure they knew while keeping it secret from us.

We are taught that good men do their alms in secret and that hypocrites cry out in the streets. Well, the world is full of hypocrites who draw attention to themselves and paint a picture of false beneficence while men like my grandfather quietly and inauspiciously do what Jesus taught us to do. Sure, he had his shortcomings, but the time he spent with the Japanese people brought out the very best in him, and because of that he brought out the very best in them. Grandpa John did his duty, and civil dignitaries recognized that, paying their respects at his funeral despite his humble economic state. He did his duty as a father, as a husband, as a disciple of Christ, and as a neighbor, teaching correct principles and then letting people govern themselves. I am personally grateful for his service among and love towards the Japanese people, and when people rip them for whatever bizarre proclivities practiced by portions of Japanese society, I remember his love for them and wish I saw any nation, kindred or tongue as he saw the Japanese. I find it interesting that, despite the horrors and ravages of war, and despite his own forced hand participating in that war as an infantry officer how much he loved those people. He didn't need to go to Hiroshima or apologize in public or lick boots or bow. He ministered unto them, bringing them to America, bringing them to prosperous lives in the wake of ruinous war, and bringing them to Christ through his words and example. My grandfather was a hero who went to the Japanese not to lecture them but to lift them.

I Like Everyday People

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My neighborhood offers its share of challenges like everywhere else, but it comes with a powerful and unexpected perk. When I first moved in and introduced myself at the congregation I no longer attend, they commented that I lived "in the rich part". Ok, there are far more affluent and exorbitant homes, but I have been here long enough to understand why they thought I was better off than they are. They are everyday people- people who work every day just to make it from this one to the next. Like the movie "In Time", they're happy to wake up every morning with more time, energy, and money than it will cost them that day. Every day, in every way, they are doing the best that they can to be ordinary people.

I am frequently self-deprecating about myself. When I feel ugly or overweight or poor or undesirable in any other way, I go shopping at Wal-mart. I don't know what's going on with people who shop there, but they look sad, heavy, and tired. I've watched some of the cashiers visibly age, and I feel bad for the people who shop there because I know most of them aren't nearly as happy as they portend and pretend to be. Mostly, I think the people proximal to this store bias the results because they can't get any further with their walkers, wheel chairs, etc., in order to shop. THey shop at Wal-mart because there's nowhere else they can go. They don't have the money, the mobility, or the mentality, even if their clothes, their cars, and their cash-filled wallets proclaim a different story. Some of the people who work there can't do any better because they have tattoos, criminal records, or barely managed a GED. Even when I drove a forklift for Wal-mart, many of my coworkers disliked me because they knew one day I would leave and go somewhere better.

Walking the neighborhood, spending time at sidewalk level with them, gave me perspective in troubling times and helped me understand them. I see some of the same people every week in the same places at the same time weather permitting, and so it's become partly a real community. I notice when they are gone, when things change, and when something might be wrong because I'm aware. I notice things they do not see. I see them doing things they think matter. I see that some of the "homeless people" aren't but that some of the other people aren't far from actually living on the street. They're no longer everyday people to me. They are my neighbors. They are children of God, and maybe I'm here to be their neighbor rather than just the guy in the house next door.

As much as I am frustrated by my struggles, the more I learn about other people and their plights the more grateful I am for my own trials. This semester alone, I had students go through divorce, family death, job loss, a new diagnosis of epilepsy, exposure to tuberculosis, dog attacks, and a host of other things I am sure of which I am not aware. Last year was a particularly difficult one for me, and this semester, it took a toll working six days a week, but I know that my life is enviable in almost every way. Considering the hand God deals me, I play very well, and the hands dealt aren't awful, they're just long on odds to win. When I pray, I thank Him for an ugly but reliable car, a conditioned body, a job that pays more than I need, and freedom from the shackles of a loveless marriage. I don't want to trade anyone for their place. I learned from my hiking buddy that everything comes with a costs; his metabolism and devilish good looks come coupled to alzheimers, so, like his father before him he'll look great but have no idea when he's 80 that he doesn't have to get up early for school tomorrow.

I am not a superhero; I'm an ordinary man. Every morning, I try my best to live an ordinary life, the best I know how. Every day, I hope to have enough hope, enough energy, and enough motivation to get through the day. I know that they're not as happy as they look and that they're not as prosperous as they look. We all just need someone who believes in us and cares about us. I can smile at them, get the door, help them carry groceries, buy them gas, give them a jump, give them a burrito, pay them a compliment, etc., all of which I have done. One night, as I walked away after helping, I heard the mother tell her kids, "See there are decent people still in the world". I know that everyday people won't necessarily make a great partner for me, but I can be a hero to them every day in ordinary ways. I am a disciple of God; everyday people are my business.

International Students

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They continue to feed us the canard that an insufficient number of Americans are qualified for or interested in STEM jobs as reason to justify bringing in more students. Statistics however contradict their claim. Over 1.2 million students are in the US on student visas (including technical school), and a plurality of those are in STEM fields. We have students in this country who are prepared, who are motivated, who are qualified, but who are not going to advance the equal opportunity diversity garbledygook with which they beat us over the head. My experiences and the statistics show that the claims used to justify increased immigration are not true. We do not necessarily need them.

Rather than consider the potential work done by American students, they just assume that we're not qualified. TO hear them speak, American students aren't interested in STEM careers, but I can tell you from walking the halls of campus that our school has plenty of American citizens in STEM fields. TO hear them speak, Americans aren't qualified to be competitive in STEM careers, but I've taught enough foreign exchange students to know that even if they are smart they are not prepared for success. I don't honestly know why they bring foreigners in as exchane students. What I do notice is that a disporportionate number come from muslim countries. I attended graduate school with one of the princes of Syria. I remember because the administration didn't realize Emir was his title and not his forname when they awarded him his PhD. He was in a STEM field, and he's from a nation now that is a STEM threat because we are sending our technology and training to countries that hate us. Notice we're not importing Europeans. We have European students too, but most of the European students I have earned their citizenship; they aren't just here to take jobs; they came to join our nation. It's not equal opportunity or diversity. It's about bringing in specific immigrants, specifically those who are not white. Historically, however, many of our best imports were white people and Jews- Eisenberg, Oppenheimer, Einstein, but that's not what we do now. Now we import throwbacks.

Given the statistics, I wonder why we need to bring in so many students because we have a TON of foreign exchange students, considering how many other American citizens would like to go to college. Only 20% of Americans even go to college, or have a degree, yet, schools go out recruiting foreign students on purpose. THey don't do this because they care about the students. They do this so they can charge them more. Flush with citizens who are subsidized and frustrated by the new regulations restricting the amounts of money they compensate us, they go out looking for foreigners to whom they can charge confiscatory "out of state" and "foreign exchange" rates in order to pad the budget. Schools aren't about students; universities exist to exalt the faculty. Meanwhile our students rack up huge amounts of debt only to get poorly paying jobs if they can get one at all. Essentially we train these foreign students to compete with our own and then hobble our own students with loans only to deny them jobs in favor of "diversity". Many American students are WASPS, and far too many hiring committees, diversity committees, and human resource departments disproportionately endorse diversity in the process to comply with federal mandates, ignoring the best qualified candidate. I have been told "you are 1.5 persons deficient in Asians, 2 persons deficient in females, and 4 persons deficient in Africans, but hire the best qualified candidate". I am not fooled by their thinly-veiled bias; they don't want a WASP.

Despite the many advantages afforded these foreign exchange students, many of them are not prepared for success in school. Consequently, they sap resources from our students and ultimately get jobs because they are from privileged classes rather than due to superior skills. I taught two very nice students from Ethiopia several years ago whose first language was French. Although I can speak some French, I told them that I didn't know any "science French" and therefore couldn't help them. Far too many of our own students are barely literate in English, and Chemistry is tough enough for them without a language barrier. I taught a student from Ghana a few years back who accused me of giving him an F because of his race. When the administration read his illiterate emails, which looked copied and pasted from Google translate, they agreed he should have never passed General Chemistry I. Even some of my American citizen students aren't prepared for the math. I don't have time to teach them how to do algebra and solve for x; we assume they already now how, but they take offense when I tell them to go to a tutor since I can't slow down the entire class for them.

They say that education is an investment in our future, but nobody seems to be able to cite specific examples. I can cite myself; I stayed in Nevada because it gave me educational and vocational opportunities, but I am the exception. Most of our students are educated at our expense and then go on to benefit other communities because Nevada neither recognizes nor rewards academic achievement. Some of the students we educate never finish. Some of the students in the microbiology course I took over last term dropped out or changed their majors. I know a man who, when his visa expired because he graduated, stayed in America for at least 15 years since he finished college. The ones who do leave, like the Emir of Syria I knew, go back to their countries and enrich them at our expense and perhaps to our detriment. The ones who do seem to be good for us are the ones who come here and then GET SERIOUS ABOUT CITIZENSHIP. We do not need immigration unless it's coupled with assimilation. They will not benefit us unless they are inclined and incentivized to do so because they become part of us and our society.

F-2 Generation

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Every few years, when I teach general biology again, I get to discuss Mendelian Genetics and basic inheritance. Since I spent a great deal of time on it again this year, it reminded me about a concern of mine in the global age. Now that people can converse and interface like no other time before with people they only encounter with modern technology and travel, it begs a genetic question in the F-2 generation. I want people to understand the possible risks, to think of their grandchildren, and to make informed decisions. I want them to understand that chemistry does not discriminate.

Mendel crossbred his pea plants through what he called the 2nd Filial (F-2) generation for good reason. In essence, what he was doing was crossing lines of vastly different genetic propensity to determine how genes pass to posterity. Although he didn't make any genetic counseling recommendations, his work did show a fundamental truth. In populations of significant genetic variance, it is the 2nd Filial generation (or the grandchildren) where masked or hidden traits appear. In populations or in the case of traits where these cause significant medical consequence, in the grandchildren, diseases appear.

In almost every way, the freedom to love, date, and marry whom you choose is noble and virtuous. In the case of genetics, it should give you pause. I met a woman about 12 years ago whose parents were from Ghana and Nigeria, making her an exotic and beautiful hybrid that caught everyone's eye and appealed to the fancy of many. By the time I met her, she already had two children, both of whom had serious medical issues. Her third child cost her a significant amount of money setting things right. Essentially, she is the only member of her "race" or genetic haplotype, and neither of the men with whom she had children came from genetic pools compatible with hers. By the grandchildren of her parents, there was no compensatory mechanism to counter the problems caused by vastly different genetic pools.

Vast genetic differences do not mean that things must be worse than if you found a family with someone of similar genetic background. It means that there's a greater chance of a problem. Mendel showed us that the chance is never zero, however minute, when you mix two genetically different lines. It probably didn't happen before or manifest before because child mortality was high for other reasons. Now that health care provides for things caused by genetics, it becomes a financial matter, but it causes emotional pain.

Lots of people will leverage the emotional wedge of your posterity to dictate your actions. From a strictly actuarial point of view, if you care about the prospects of your posterity, consider very well whom you choose as a mate. I know everyone wants to look diverse or inclusive or open-minded, and I know everyone claims to care about their children. Picking a mate works best for your posterity when you are compatible in as many ways as possible. While it's true that opposites attract and that exotic is interesting, chemistry teaches us that compatibility matters most, and Mendel teaches us that genetics masks problems only to manifest in those distal to us in space and time. They are not distal to our hearts, and if you care about your F2 or F3 or F30 generation, choose wisely your mate.