Why I'm Not a Cop

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It's a dangerous time to be in law enforcement, but it was one of the things I wanted to do when I was a small boy- become a cop. As a matter of fact, the last year I remember dressing and going door to door for halloween, my parents helped me look LIKE a cop. Although my educational pursuits took me on a different path, when the opportunity arose to attempt that path, however roundaboutly I attempted it, I pursued the matter and applied for jobs in law enforcement. I know it comes as no surprise that I am not in law enforcement to regular readers who know I work as a chemistry/biology professor instead; every attempt I made was thwarted somehow by either incompetence or collusion. They did not want me among their number, and aside from the pay which is the worst reason to take a job I don't feel cheated. When I was a boy, I respected, admired, looked up to and trusted policemen, but now I see that they are humans too and sometimes even worse than the average. Apparently, uniform officer doesn't refer so much to the dress as much to the behavior, which explains why women I know like a man in uniform. Finally, I am not sure I would have enjoyed a long life as a uniformed officer, and I like the thought of living long AND prospering, not just having a lot of money. I admire those who choose to go into law enforcement; I am also however old enough to know better than to assume they are all virtuous and all worthy of praise.

I believe that the laws apply to everyone. Cops should set the example for others to follow. Last Saturday on Mt. Charleston, I confronted three adults who were cutting trail only to discover that they were Federal Marshals. When one of them said "the laws don't apply to us", I lost it completely and read them the riot act. I told them that since they were not on duty or at work or in uniform or displaying badges that I was the law on the mountain. I was sent to that trail; I was in uniform; I was expected to report back by 3PM. I was the law up there, and they were just as obligated to follow it as everyone else, their concealed weapons and badges notwithstanding. It's the same thing that annoys me when I see cops talking on cell phones while driving or breaking the speed limit or running a red light without their lights on. By the time it escalated to where they exposed their concealed weapons (mine is in a holster on my waist in plain sight), a small crowd had gathered. I told them at that point that people were watching them and that of all people they ought to set a good example for the people to follow. Far too often people preach "do as I say, not as I do" and the attitude towards law and order reflects the attitude of leadership that the law applies only to little people, and of course we all think we're important. His threats didn't bother me; his gun didn't bother me; his dog actually came and stood next to me. I knew that justice and the law were on my side and that the highway patrol and metro officers wouldn't care if he was a marshal. He wasn't looking for a fugitive; he was about to be one. You are not special because you enforce the law; you are under the obligation to set a good example. In my experience however like these marshals on the mountain, I find that all too often bullies become cops in order to get paid to push other people around and maintain the illusion of power. I did not like these men or really respect them, and part of me actually hoped they would push things just so I could stick it to them in the court or with their boss or in the papers; men like this are a stain on everyone else who wears a badge.

In hiring cops, they look for people who can be broken down and rebuilt into what they like. This week, the new class of law enforcement officers started their training on campus. Families lined up with their fresh faced young sons and daughters as seasoned veterans barked orders at them like they were lesser beings or cattle or worse. Some of these people have had real jobs, earned college degrees, and know things, but that doesn't seem to interest them. It's a cookie cutter GOBNet that molds everyone into the same Brotherhood of Blue. Part of this is for efficiency, which I get; the rest is to entrench favors and exempt cops from following the laws mentioned previously. When I applied to be a highway patrolman, they were not impressed that I had an advanced science degree or that I kept my nose clean and never did drugs. In fact, I asked the sergeant leading the interview if it was preferrable to have a criminal justice degree and some ride alongs even if I had done drugs to being a good example. Yes, they like automatons. It's an assembly line process, where you get in line or you get out. When I confronted the marshals, they stuck together like a clique. It was other citizens around me, parents, teachers, hikers, climbers, and children, who actually took my side, stood behind me, and eventually provided the impetus for the cops to back down from their unprincipled position. I understand wanting uniformed officers to be uniform, but the problem is when they are wrong, they are wrong as a unit. The highway patrol didn't seem to see any value in the diversity I offered. My dad saw that I offered something unique as a biochemist, but they wanted people who thought the same way, knew the same things, and behaved the same way. They like order. I get that. However, they talk of diversity and do something else, sort of like young people who want to be "different" which amounts usually to nothing more than outlandishly defying their parents even as they become more uniform with their peers in deviance and decadence. Now I finally understand all the girls I know who wanted to marry cops, marines, firemen, etc., because they wanted a man who knew how to take orders. Clever.

Working as a cop is hazardous to your health. Emergency responders face many risks in their jobs. I don't think many of them understand that's the reason why they are paid so much; it's difficult to live long enough to spend it all. The risks are many, to life, to health, and to quality of living. Of course, obviously, we know of late how many cops have actually been assassinated in the course of their duty. You never know when you respond to a call or confront a driver if your life may be in danger. You don't know who carries a weapon, who carries a grudge, or who carries an outstanding warrant, and you get to find out. You risk your life because you're supposed to go looking for villains, and eventually you probably start to see everyone with suspicion, because you realize that nobody's perfect, most people are lying and everyone makes mistakes. Even if you live long, sometimes it comes at risk to health factors. The NHP trooper in my congregation at church confessed that most older cops get fatter and fatter as they progress in their careers. Many of them do not live very long after they retire. He mentioned some things I didn't think of, like exposure to flares, but I thought of all the hazardous material exposure associated with policemen, firemen, etc., in addition to the weather exposure, the stress, the bad diets, and all the other things that contribute to a piss poor lifestyle for our emergency responders. Add to that diseases, and I think I'd rather work in chemistry where, although I run risks too, everything I encounter is supposedly labeled, so I know what to do when there is a spill. I have one student this term whose boyfriend is a fireman, and I think she actually understands that he will probably die young. Joe told me that any lung health issue is paid for as an NHP Sergeant, because they know there are risks. I don't know if their wives understand that. Maybe that's what they're hoping. Particularly today, it would be frustrating to be a cop. They have body cams, protestors, litigious firms, terrorism, and a whole slew of new enemies to face in doing their job every day that interfere with their ability to do their job well if they get to do it at all. If I had taken the DHS job for which I applied years ago, I would have been ordered to NOT do my own job. Federal law enforcement continues to find itself under greater restriction that prevents or discourages it from doing its job as they refuse to defend officers and take the side of criminals. It would have been hazardous to my health to have that stress and hazardous to my life to have a job I could not do or a boss I could not in good conscience obey, and I would have had to resign in protest. At least local law enforcement in NV have the backing of government leaders.

As attractive as the perks, pay, promotions, and pageantry may be, I am glad I chose another path for my career. I don't think I would enjoy being a first responder. I don't really like people enough to risk my life to save people I don't know who probably hate me just because of my uniform. As attractive as the money may be, I earn enough and would either use it stupidly or just shove more into savings like I do now. I like the flexibility to work extra hours when I like, to go to the gym when I like, to do something for a living that I actually like. Academia affords me the opportunity to tackle the subject with some flexibility as to how, as long as I cover certain specific topics completely and accurately, and so I kind of have my own courses that vary from those of my contemporaries, even within the college. I will never be rich, but I like what I do, and with all due humility, I'm pretty damn good at it too. Lawless individuals among us declared open season on cops, slaughtering them at will and in regular intervals. No excuse is given or needed, and the top cop in America, the President of the United States, stands with the dissidents, miscreants, and malcontents when he ought to defend his own. When you do not stick up for your own, you in essence betray them, and the president has betrayed law enforcement. I didn't like the former Dean because she didn't stick up for me. I think her replacement is 180 degrees opposite in that regard, and so I look forward to better years ahead and a more rewarding experience. Maybe I can teach young people to be the kind of people who no longer need law enforcement except as protection against the rest, and maybe those I teach who become or are partnered with first responders can brush off a little on them and make law enforcement more venerable too.

Memory Problems

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New studies show that memory really isn't as fixed as we like. Everyone knows that, with every retelling, the story changes, and that as people grow older their ability to recount specifics and consistent details fades. Part of that is age related, but part of it is I believe done by choice. You see, we also have selective memory and can choose to remember certain things preferentially to others and certain details because we enjoy them while we eliminate others. Sometimes this is done for innocuous reasons; sometimes it's done for villainous reasons, and sometimes it's done for inexplicable reasons. Memory is a tricky thing, and I'm starting to think that plays a huge role in how people treat each other. We each remember different details and impressions about the same experiences. When I went to Washington DC, I shared my journal for their benefit, but none of my companions reciprocated, and it would have been illuminating and interesting to see what they took from the trip and how they perceived it. All of the accounts might have been true; some of them would not have been useful to me. Then again, most of what I know and remember doesn't seem to be of much use in the real world, and one day I will be but a passing memory to those of you who remain in this audience. Maybe something I do or say or help you realize will persist even if you cannot recollect correctly how you arrived thereat.

When the memory is painful, damaging, traumatic, or similar, often our brains rewrite the memory to protect us. Rather than relive something deleterious, the brain, like the rest of the body, can scab over or skim over details until eventually the neural pathways that linked those events to our memory are so deprived that they can actually die. That kills the memories essentially at least to our conscious recollection, and it allows other memories to take a more prominent role in the December of our life. Over time, the memories fade and diminish, and in the wake of new ones, they loom less litigious on our limited resources until, although they remain, other things overshadow them and outcompete them for our attention and computational capacity. While they do not go away per se, we can rewrite them in order to make them less important. This becomes easier as we age, since the amount of experiences we enjoy grows larger and those experiences hopefully become an increasingly minute fraction of the total memory cassette.

The more time that passes, and the more varied the setting, the more the retelling may vary. Often your brain rewrites a story because you're not sure or because each time you tell it different things seem applicable or vivid or integral to the tale. It doesn't mean that you are lying, but it does mean that you can honestly retell the exact same tale repeatedly and to different people and produce vivid variations or minor detours from the original, all of which are true because none of them contain the entire truth. None of them are dishonest, but they are told to different people at different times to serve different ends, and rather than tell the entire novella, you distill it down for your audience. Other times, as others with whom you experienced something are absent or different people are present to encourage different emphasis, your brain varies the tale because it's not sure what it remembers. For my own part, I have done many things by myself, and if not for the pictures, sometimes I would wonder if I actually did those things or if I just made them up out of thin air! I am not lying; it is truth, and it varies in its telling each time, which is why I keep a journal and write a blog, to keep and set the story straight.

Unfortunately, sometimes the story varies for less than virtuous means. Many people rewrite the story because it was a lie. I wonder sometimes how many people made promises to me that they never intended to keep or told me things that were never true or never going to be true, not to hurt me but because they were hoping that they would be true. When I finally "dumped" a girl, it was hard for me initially to do so since I had made representations; they were contingent, to be sure, and when we were obviously not going the same direction, it no longer mattered what my intentions were. I made those representations based on assumptions of facts that were not true, and so my story didn't need to be either. When my attorney and I left my divorce proceedings, he told me that both she and I would probably pass a lie detector test because, even though she couldn't demonstrate with facts that her story was true, she had told herself the lie so many times that she actually believed it. That's the problem with actively rewriting memory in order to justify and rationalize yourself, because it actually makes meanness in men where once you saw virtue and creates virtue in you where you are actually mean.

For some poor unfortunate souls like me, rewriting the memory doesn't work very well. My memory is sufficiently advanced that I can recollect sometimes entire conversations verbatim even if the other person in that conversation cannot recollect saying a single thing documented or redacted every comment. Even when I can prove they said those things with video, audio, or written transcripts, sometimes I discover that they completely cancelled out those conversations from their memory. I feel like a fraud, but I can prove that it happened that way, even though they deny it. I can remember many wonderful things like quotes and poems and songs and scriptures; I can remember many experiences like hikes and butterflies and pigeon fights and my grandmother's voice or how my Kat would smile with her entire body when she was happy; I also remember that people made promises they didn't keep, that when I am sick or hurt I usually face it alone, and just how miserable I felt to be divorced and then to lose in court and have to pay so...much...money to a woman who didn't even appreciate it. I remember you; I remember everyone who comes; I remember everyone who leaves. Students from past semesters seem stunned that I remember their names. Some of them never really learned mine. It has saved my bacon more times than I can count that I could recollect the details correctly, consecutively, and consistently, because I would not crack and eventually something else gave way.

When I open each class in which we discuss the scientific method I stress the importance of good record keeping and providing good data. Everything in my life that I wish turned out differently did so because I acted on inaccurate or incomplete information. The choice was good and brave and true assuming that the information was, but since it was predicated on bad information now I just look stupid. I wonder sometimes if the people who provided me that information ever feel bad. I hope very few of them misled me on purpose. I know people change and these things happen, but I know that some people have rewritten their memories in order to make me the bad guy. I take time to remember the good times and the better times, because as I grow older and time passes other things drown out memories of times long passed and people dearly considered and possibilities that bolstered my hopes and my dreams. They were people and experiences that enriched and enlarged my life, and so I want them to remain part of my memory even if they have rewritten me to a place of lesser import in their own.

Criminals and Their Targets

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We hear a lot of myths nowadays about crime. I have my own experiences, and I can only speak to my own experiences. I am also aware of the statistics, both that are published to the public, and that are reported to me directly from the police with whom I have had unfortunately frequent reason to interact as a victim. Cops go where the crimes occur, and so eventually they notice as well as the district attorney's officers, that certain people possess a penchant for particular perniciousness, particularly when it comes to personal violence. It struck me as a great paradox that the protesters in Dallas complained about the police and then demanded that the police protect them when bullets started to fly. Far too many people demand that you tolerate them as they are and then that you become what they tolerate. In my experience, unfortunately, I have had negative experiences predominantly with black people. Although I know a fair few who are decent members of the community, far too many seem to follow the example of our president and rabble rouse. It is no sign of maturity to resort to miscreantism. It is no sign of civil behavior to flaunt the law when it serves you and then demand it protect you if you become a victim. That's hypocrisy. You are being lied to about who the criminals are, how they perpetrate the crimes, and the rational for being criminals. Let facts be presented to a candid world...

Every time a personal, violent crime has been committed against me, at least one of the perpetrators was black. I have only been targeted for violent crimes three times, all since moving to Las Vegas and living at my current address. The first instance involved an older black woman who approached me in the parking lot of the only Walmart in town shuttered by the company this year who then demanded my wallet. The second instance I walked past a teenage black man on the way home from the grocery store who ran up to me from behind after I passed and threw me to the ground. The third instance two teenagers decided to kick down my door and steal things, and the older boy was black. Additionally, at work, I continue to face accusations of bias and discrimination by black students and coworkers. One of them filed a racial discrimination case against me with the EEOC, and although it was cleared without incident for me, she faced zero ramifications of which I am aware. Every student who thought I gave them an F because of their race was interviewed, and in every instance so far, the investigators have exonerated me. I am just a guy, and they decided to attack me. The only other crime committed against me was a Russian who stole my identity, and I doubt he was black.

Guns are not integral to the plan of attack with criminals. When the woman approached me in the parking lot at Walmart, she brandished a knife. Having my own 10" bowie knife with me, I pulled it out and told her she'd made a mistake. She fled. When the teenager attacked me from behind, he initially hit me only with himself, and then when I tried to flee the scene, he threw a floor tile at me and hit me from behind. The teenagers who tried to kick down my door didn't have any weapons at all. I have never seen a gun brandished against me by any criminal, thank God, let alone an assault rifle, and although I do own a firearm, I was not carrying it because I hope I never ever have to use it to defend myself. The police strongly encouraged me to carry it and to shoot if I feel my life is in danger. I don't see how I really win. If I kill the attacker, two people die- the man I shoot and the man I used to be. Even if I had my gun with me, it wouldn't have been an "assault rifle"; it's a revolver.

Most of the criminals who targeted me were instances of opportunity. My attacker at Walmart did so in the dark, away from lighting, and so I think she was looking for anyone parked there who wandered too close. The attacker who mugged me probably decided in the 30 seconds that passed after we walked by each other that he was going to pick me. The two teenagers who kicked down my door decided on my house because it afforded the best cover from the street even though the other nearby houses were also dark. The police think, despite the fact that I was mugged and these kids attempted to rob me within an 11 day period and no more than 200m apart from the two crime scenes, that I am just a random target and not part of a protracted campaign. Even the students who complain didn't pick me out in order to leverage their race against mine; I don't think they knew my race, and I think they probably took the class because it fit their schedule rather than as part of a plan to complain. As for my coworker, I am the only white male who worked with her at the time, so I think she figured I was the weakest link; she has since plied the same tactic on a hispanic male who replaced me in that position, also to no avail. I think she's just looking to target other people in order to distract them from looking closely at her. You really only hurt people that you do not know and do not like. Far too many of these criminals are bored, selfish, and angry, and when they encounter someone who has something, like the pirates, they only really seem to care that I have swag that they have not yet taken. Pride gets no pleasure out of having anything, only out of having more of it than the next man (CS Lewis).

You are fed a lot of lies about crime and criminals. You see a lot of statistics. The simple fact of the matter is that in my area black people are the most likely suspects. In my life, in my experience, they are always culprits even if they are not the only ones. When I was mugged, one of the felony secretaries in the district attorney's office asked if the attacker was black and then said, "figures" when the answer came in the affirmative. These people see the paperwork. Who is most likely to attack? People who do not know or like you. They are not using guns. In fact, guns are usually a deterrent, and guns are used in a statistically small fraction of violent crime. They are illegal in many states and for many people, yet criminals consistently find a way to get their hands on guns and commit crimes with them. We do not need more laws. We need more people who respect the law, and these protesters are not those people. Most people manage to commit crimes because they dehumanize others. You don't know the other drivers, so you think nothing of cutting them or flipping them off; you don't know your neighbors, so you think nothing of littering on their lawn; you don't know strangers, so it's easier to rob them, snub them, exclude them, persecute them, etc. In extreme cases, they will make out a certain group to be less than animals as an excuse to enslave, slaughter, or extort them. That's not a human thing to do, but then we don't really have communities anymore. We have people who are neighbors because their property lines collide, and when that happens, sometimes other things do too leading to violent crime. I am sad to have these experiences, and I am glad, because they taught me that what I hear in the media is not the whole truth even if it is true. Like I tell my students the first week, everyone has an agenda, and my agenda is to convince you that they have an agenda.

What Are They Celebrating?

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I stepped out last night to a barrage of illegal fireworks set off by the neighbors all around me. I shouted aloud to the darkness, "Do you even know what you are celebrating? Do you even care?" I don't think they do. I don't think most people, even people who live here, really appreciate what it means to be an American. Last Thursday, I watched a video on youtube where students at UC Berkeley didn't know what the purpose of the 4th was. I've seen videos from UCB before in which students display a wanton aversion for everything American until they stand to benefit from it. We all make jokes about holidays created by the greeting card companies, but I think even Independence Day has been bastardized by commercial interests until people look at it only as an excuse to get off work, light things on fire, and gorge themselves on traditional foods. We have fallen out of touch with America; we have fallen out of love with America; we have allowed too many people into America who do not want to be here and do not respect our history, traditions, and government. Like Rome before us, it becomes more and more about less and less until we celebrate absolutely nothing.

Many of them actually hate America. I hear complaints all the time about America, Americans, and American traditions. Even Americans seem to hate America, to be embarassed to be Americans, and to desire to radically transform it to be more like the socialistic cesspools in Europe. This one day a year, they all rush out to buy fireworks, which you can't do in most other nations, and then they violate our laws by shooting them off into the air. Monday morning, there were two cops parked in front of my house responding to underage drinking and illegal fireworks; if you love America, why do you violate our laws? If you really think it's virtuous and right to come here, why do you violate our laws in order to come? They are celebrating the power to do something you can't do anywhere else and get away with it. If you did this in any of the tyrannical regimes they think we ought to resemble, you'd probably be beat by the cops, not to mention arrested without charge, convicted without testimony, imprisoned without appeal, and executed without mercy. This is the best nation on the earth, perhaps the best one that ever was, but the people who live here fell out of love with America, much like the politicians who lead them, and who caricature their enemies and lionize people they do not know and would not probably like if they ever actually met. Almost nobody seems to follow the law anymore, and despite the lip service paid by politicians to Constitutional Law and the oaths they took to sustain and defend it, most of them tear it to shreds in order to elevate themselves and then demand its protections. You can't claim the benefits of America if you flagrantly defy and denigrate its principles, values, precepts, and policies. You do what it takes to please someone or something you love; you don't treat it like garbage and expect it to love you anyway.

Many of them aren't American citizens. Last time I saw my neighbor to the south when I put up my flag, he glared at me. I know they are Mexicans, and although I don't know if they're here legally or not, I do know that he looked at me as if it was a "I hate Mexico" flag. It says nothing of the sort. I fly it because I respect my ancestors who fought for this nation, for my family members and friends who fight for it, and for all the good things it represents. When I jogged through the neighborhood to the north of mine, peopled predominantly with latino families, I balked at the piles of rubbish in the streets and gutters from their pyrotechnics last evening, because I know that they are not from here and probably complain about the people who are and what we do. It amazes me that so many people are willing to come to a nation they consider to be so mean and racist; if America is evil, why are they here, and why in Hoboken do they light off fireworks to commemorate her official birth? My British friend was deported several months back, because he's been in America in violation of his Visa for 20 years, but he would sing in church on the 4th. I doubt these people really cared about America. I didn't see a single flag in the neighborhood, but they sure drove my dog crazy with fireworks last night.

Almost none of them really understand the purpose of the day. Far too many of my text messages were "Happy 4th". Fourth of what? It's not any more significant that it was the 4th of July than Cinco de Mayo. Unlike Cinco de Mayo, which commemorates a minor battle in an insignificant war (when Mexico defeated France at Pueblo), the 4th of July celebrates the very first time in world history that a nation declared that the people were more powerful than the government. Our declaration of independence declares that men have the power to alter or abolish government if it becomes corrupt, overbearing, or contrary to their laws of happiness. Even some guy at church, with a JD and a PhD in American History wrongly declared from the pulpit that our rights come from the Constitution. The Declaration of Independence clearly delineates that we are endowed by OUR CREATOR with rights. If they come from government, which is comprised of fallen men, they can be taken away from us by government when men fall into the trap of tyranny, debauchery, greed and anarchy, but if they come from God, then no man or woman can take them from us without consequence. Then there are the families. I think far too many people think this is just another day to ignite fireworks. I took my framed copy of the Declaration of Independence, which hangs above a model of the USS Constitution, off the wall in my library to read in the handwriting of the men who committed treason in sending it to King George in the first place. Then again, one among them declared that resistance to tyrants is obedience to God (Benjamin Franklin), which I honor above all earthly kings, powers, rulers and magistrates. That's what today is really about- America exists because God loves men and wants them to be free, even if they desire to ignore Him, and to always be free from the chains of bondage of every kind. That's what the Fourth of July is all about, and it has never happened in modern history. It is not an accident that the header to this blog quotes Leviticus 25:10 "proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof". That's my mission. I declare that God's purpose, that America's purpose, and that my purpose is to proclaim liberty- politically, spiritually, physically, financially, socially, vocationally, intellectually, and in every other way. Like the author of our Declaration, Thomas Jefferson wrote, I have sworn on the altar of freedom eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of men, and I mean it. I detest bullies.

I know that these opinions are probably not very popular, but I don't really care. I pledge allegiance to this flag, and if that bothers you, then that's too bad (Aaron Tipton), and if you think that I should tolerate your aberrant and abhorrent behavior while demanding that I acquiesce to your every demand, you have another thing coming. I am not going to become what you tolerate. Happy is the kingdom whose God is the Lord. I pledge allegiance to Him, to that Constitution He inspired those men of Philadelphia to write. For me, the Declaration of Independence and Constitution are akin to holy scripture. For me, this nation is a great blessing, a sign of His approbation and love for His children. For me, this is a place to live according to the dictates of my own conscience. It's not just about doing what I like; it's about doing what I ought. Freedom isn't in giving in to your inhibitions. Freedom exists in being the best you can be in all circumstances, and nowhere else has that ever been possible to my knowledge like it is and has been here. God bless America and all those who love her, love to be here, and love those who made her possible more than two centuries after her inception. Let freedom ring.

How-To Videos

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Over the past few weeks, I've shared information about and produce from my backyard garden with neighbors, students, and coworkers. Many of them seem flabbergasted that I successfully coaxed fruits out of the parched desert environment, and they all seem pleasantly surprised at the taste of said produce. At their request, I will be creating a series of videos over the next month showing what I did, why, how, and what fruits result from it. I will warn you that my backyard isn't pretty; it looks like a chaotic mess. However, when you consider the fact that I have neighbors who don't try, don't succeed, or don't like gardening, the fact that they think I have a green thumb speaks volumes.

Part of my motivation for this is personal. I feel a great sense of satisfaction eating things I grew out of my own back yard. Additionally, I studied Biochemistry in graduate school in a plant physiology laboratory that considered the effects of drought and salt stress on fruit crops, so I feel the need to validate myself as an authority by having a productive garden in the desert southwest. One of my greatest accomplishments in life is the house and yard. I showed my backyard video to some students last night who expressed interest in seeing the garden, and they seemed very impressed with the house, the landscaping, and the work that went into building the garden. Even though in 2015 many of the plants currently in the ground are noticeably absent from that video, they still couldn't believe that I built a beautiful and successful garden. Some of them assumed i live in a special place; in fact, I think my neighborhood is among the poorest spots of ground, but I digress. My garden is the one place where I reap what I sow.

Part of my motivation for this is revelatory. The earliest age at which I recollect church leaders admonishing us to plant a garden and grow our own food where possible was when I was eight years old. Since then, my parents always tried to have some sort of garden, and although it never fed us on its own and we never really planted it to that end, it did feed me with other lessons, with an awe and respect for living things, and with an appreciation for home-grown food and home-cooked meals. There is nothing tastier than a home-grown tomato! Although they stopped talking about it in the higher echelons of the church, my local congregation has rededicated itself to teaching self-reliance and emergency preparedness, and so there is a rising interest in, focus on, and yearning for back yard gardens. In the Vegas desert, this is challenging, but I remember the promise of Elijah that if we follow God's counsel, the cruse of oil and barrel of meal shall not waste until the famine subsides.

Part of my motivation is educational. People worldwide seem interested in returning to some pastoral roots and having access to "organic" and "natural" foods. Most of what they pay for at Whole Foods, Trader Joe's and similar stores is a farce, but I do teach my students that the shorter the distance from garden to table the better your food usually is. Commercial crops are grown, not for taste or nutritional content but for yield and for shelf life. Consequently, I am allergic to commercial nightshade plants (eggplant, tomato, bell pepper, etc.), but heirloom varieties don't bother me nearly as much. I am an educator, and so I'm going to do this in order to leave the world a bit better, through a garden plot. Even for those whose spirit is willing but flesh is weak, I will teach them that there are legitimate excuses; I do actually tend my garden at least five days per week. I know that if I ignore it, problems in the desert quickly blow far out of control and plants can die in days from neglect or exposure. There are things I know, things I did, and things I would change, and if they can help other people achieve the pleasure and enjoyment I derive from a garden, I'm happy to share my expertise with them. People make time for things that really matter, and I know this matters to me because I make time for it morning and night.

I'm not intending to or purporting to be an internet star. This isn't really to get viewers, subscribers, or money. If people want to pay me, I won't say no, but really, when you are passionate about something the compensation comes from other sources than the bank. I don't have great and sophisticated equipment, a crew, or writers. I'll just show you what I did and how I did it. You may disagree or do things differently. I might too if I were starting over from scratch. The best thing for me is that what I did actually worked. Monday morning when I saw the first cotyledons from cantelope seeds I discarded in the garden a week prior emerge from the soil, I got excited to see new life emerge from germinated seeds I threw there. I like the variety, the feel of my yard, and the cooling sensation it imparts to my house. Best of all, all these plants cost me only $5 in additional water consumption over my previous water bills. The real cost is my time, but I have the time, and I laugh sometimes when I'm more interested in getting home to tend the garden than hang out with a hot woman; I know the garden will be worth the work.

Fathers' Day Offense

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Before church on Father's Day, I ran across a neighbor during my morning jog with whom I have spoken several times. He wished me a Happy Father's Day and then asked me about my children only to berate me when I told him that I didn't have any. It put a sour taste in my mouth not only that day but even until this day, since I went to Texas to visit my brother for the christening of his twin daughters. There's this assumption that I am somehow deficient. Sometimes, despite out best choices, things don't turn out as we hope or like. Sometimes, despite our hopes and preferences, things are not possible. We are not the only force in the universe, and to presume that you are better and that I am worse because you have something I do not smacks of vanity and pride. Many men do not have children because they intend to be fathers but in order to keep appearances.

He presumed that being a father was more virtuous than being a good father. According to him, he sired his first child at 17; at 17, I went on my first date with a girl, ever. However, by his logic, the fact that he has children makes him a better man than I am. Far too many children are sired outside of wedlock, and far too many of those are "accidents". As with most other things, the ends are only really virtuous if the means are too. The best profilactic against child poverty is to have a present father in the home, but this guy kicked his first son out at 17. I am not a father because, unlike him, I wasn't out sowing my wild oats at every opportunity and invitation. I don't have any bastard children; I dont' have any children at all. Thanks so much for bringing up such a painful memory. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice papercut and pour lemon juice on it. Fatherhood is about being present, about spending time, about actually inculcating virtues into your young. It's about more than impregnating a woman. It's about raising the children you have, and far too many men are interested only in intercourse until the woman gets pregnant and then they disappear.

He used the opportunity to boast of himself without regard for how it made me feel. I don't need to be reminded of my deficits. I am acutely aware at family gatherings, in work discussions, and in class that I am alone and that that condition is not normal. I don't think it's wrong, but it assumed a negative denotation somehow. It happens everywhere. I went to church and sat there listening to conversations about fathers, fatherhood, families, etc., and I felt like pond scum. I am the only male of age who does not have any children. Not that all fathers and children have good relationships, but they do at least have fathers or got to be fathers, and I get to be a husband only if I breed animals or plants. I still maintain that it's better to be alone than with the wrong person, and if she isn't going to treat me well, I don't want to spend time with her let alone have children with her. Most women treat me like I'm the court of last resort- the last choice when all other lights go out.

He projected the blame on me for the fact that I don't have any kids. When I admitted I wasn't a father, he asked me what was wrong with me, why I was putting it off, and why I was so picky. I'm sorry. Just because I'm not willing to jump into bed with any woman willing to let me doesn't make me a villain. I'm past the phase, as if I was ever in it, when I would wantonly accept any invitation to the boudoir, and now I'm interested in someone who's a good partner and with whom I would want to raise children. As I wrote on previous occassions, any idiot can spew semen, but it takes a real man to be a dad, and by the same token almost any woman can incubate a child, but not every one can raise one well. I am not putting it off. What's wrong with being picky? Why are his criterion better than mine? Why is the fault necessarily with me? The arrogance from someone who is one presuming he is better really chafed me. What about those who can't have children physiologically or those who have lost the children they have? I have family members who, despite their righteous and honest desires don't have children or even a partner. It's not always a choice, but even when it is it's not necessarily an evil choice that keeps a man childless.

With the changes to the definition of "family", I see posters depicting all sorts of "families". I am offended that it still leaves out single people. It includes all sorts of blended family archetypes and archetypes I consider aberrant and abhorrent, but a man who is by himself or a woman by herself are still not considered families by anyone. People assume it's by choice, but I know enough other single people to know better. Sure, some of us are special, and I know I'm hard to live with, but if my nieces like me so much, how bad can I possibly be? The men who have children in order to be seen of men are proud, taking pleasure out of appearing to be the better man. People have families for all sorts of reasons. Some of them are noble. Some of them are otherwise. People don't have families for all sorts of reasons. Some of them are active choices. Many of them are for other reasons. I have an excellent father, and both of my brothers make great fathers. However, I am not a poor father or a failed man because I haven't managed to reproduce. I could probably if I wanted to, but that doesn't make it wise or virtuous. As my neighbor patted himself on the back for passing on his DNA, he sat out in the heat in the garage drinking beer to, in his own words, stay away from his nagging wife. That offends me too.

Path of Karma

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I seem to struggle a lot more than I like just to maintain the status quo. I am passed over for jobs, promotions, dates, and opportunities of all kinds because I'm not a boot-licking toady. Considering the hand I've been dealt, I think I'm doing a pretty good job, but I still wonder and hope and look forward to the culmination of efforts in the harvest due me. Although I'm acutely aware of my shortcomings, I know that I deserve better than I'm getting, particularly when I see what other people enjoy in life. I don't know them, but I know me, and I know that, however weak I may be, I really am a pretty good guy. Unfortunately for me, good guys aren't very popular in the world, and so I have to wait longer than I like for what I know I deserve.

Karma takes into account a larger span of space and time than you might think. Often the response is not linked to the immediate action. Consider the drug dealer who is wealthy. People naturally albeit erroneously assume he is blessed because of his activities when often it's in spite of them. Even the best of men is not always on his best behavior, and even the vilest of men show love and favor and mercy to some. The rewards consider the entire picture and take the measure of a man. If you have a bad day or you make a mistake, you don't have to hang forever for a momentary lapse; if you do your alms to be seen of men, your rewards wane quickly; if you only do things for the rewards, well, the universe isn't fooled by that. Karma isn't just about what you do. Why and how we do a thing matter at least as much as what we do. Scripture teaches us that if a man gives a gift grudgingly he is accounted as if he retained that gift. Prophets teach us that there is a difference between mistakes and rebellion and that mistakes are always attended with mercy. Perhaps you are still waiting for Karma to bless you or hurt others because the full measure of the person who is to reap the rewards of what he sowed is not yet ripe. We know from history, from scripture, and sometimes from experience that God allows the wicked to punish the righteous so that there will be no question that His judgement is just. By the same token, God delayed blessing Job in privation so that, after the trial when Job enjoyed more than he had in the beginning, everyone would know why.

When considering the consequences, Karma sometimes occurs incidental to other activities. We like to think that things that occur together are linked, but if we were immediately paid based on our deeds and reaped immediately when we sowed, most people would do the right thing in order to immediately reap the reward. Sir Thomas More wrote in a letter to his daughter, "“If we lived in a State where virtue was profitable, common sense would make us good, and greed would make us saintly. And we'd live like animals or angels in the happy land that /needs/ no heroes. But since in fact we see that avarice, anger, envy, pride, sloth, lust and stupidity commonly profit far beyond humility, chastity, fortitude, justice and thought, and have to choose, to be human at all... why then perhaps we /must/ stand fast a little --even at the risk of being heroes.” The fact of the matter is that people do what they think will help them and then wait. Coincidence is not causality. The drug dealer is not blessed because he is a drug dealer. He is blessed with riches because he is also a son, a brother, a father, a neighbor, and more importantly one of God's children. When he receives blessings, they are linked to who he is mostly, not what he's doing at the time. For this reason, you constantly see evil men appear to reap the blessings of righteousness and righteous men reap the consequences of wickedness, because the wicked men are sometimes good men too. In the end, karma is not fooled. Constantine converted to Christianity on his death bed hoping to hedge his bets. Well, a lifetime of decadence and villainy is no more ablated by a single magnanimous act than a lifetime of virtue is by some horrific mistake.

Path length matters a great deal in watching for the results of karma. All too often, as aforementioned, the blessings occur at a time far removed from when the actions occurred. Thus, it can easily be inaccurately construed that an evil men receiving blessings received them while doing evil FOR that evil when in reality the universe is simply catching up. People lived a long time before we met them and live in most cases long after they vanish from our lives. In the end, however, you reap what you sow. When confused about waiting for blessings or why evil men seem to escape the consequences, consider that the person in front of you is also the person furthest behind you if the universe and the course of time is a sphere. This means that it sometimes takes a long time for karma to complete its trip when you send it out to the person in front of you and come all the way back around and meet up with you again. You may have to wait a lot longer than you like for Karma to come back around again on its next pass and deliver the consequences. By then, perhaps you've forgotten your own wickedness when you get punished or that other people did kind things when they get blessings you don't think they deserve. On the other side of that coin, wait patiently for what people, including yourself, truly deserve. Scripture teaches us that if we know how to give good gifts to those we love that God certainly does, and the universe conforms to the notion that "for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction". You get what you put into everything that you do.

I wait for a lot of things, and often I'm not very patient. I keep thinking I'm about to come into my own only to watch other people reap what I sow or receive the rewards due me. However, F. Enzio Busche taught that everything you earned that you have not received will come and that everything you received for which you did not pay you will have to pay in the end. The books must balance. The universe will have balance. God will have balance. Sometimes it doesn't come as quickly as we like because the path is longer than we think. Sometimes we forget the entire picture and unjustly link things that coincide without keeping in mind the big picture. Almost every religious and philosophical movement believes in the concept of comparable return- that you reap what you sow, and whether it comes in the form you like or the time frame you prefer, it comes eventually and is fitting even if it appears to be skew to others. We do not know everything about everyone, including ourselves, and we do not spend enough time with other people in order to accurately know what they "deserve". Can we ever really be sure of anyone? People seem to change so quickly, but the universe and its Author see everything and are not fooled. Do not be deceived. Only virtuous means lead to truly and lastingly virtuous ends.

How Does Your Garden Grow

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I've been very blessed and lucky with my garden in its first full year. Many people seem totally envious with my luck, which is interesting because I opted against paying someone $9000 to do it for me and did it myself and only have time each evening to care for it. Nothing is automated for its care, and the plants must rely on my visits morning and evening to augment their genetics and physiology. Sometimes, it's a headache to have to come home from class late at night and force myself into the garden to water and tend to the plants. However, I like seeing the fruits, the growth, the synergy, and I love the fact that it's peaceful, pleasant, and inviting even if it looks like a complete mess. It's alive for the first time since I moved in, and I love my little oasis in the desert to which I retreat at the end of a difficult or hot day. I like the variety of plants I am able to grow, eat, and watch, and the chance to see the leaves grow and flowers bloom and fruits mature until they are ready for my table. I appreciate the blessing to take care of a garden and the fact that I can have one in the desert. Since I studied in a plant physiology laboratory in graduate school, I feel like I must have a garden in order to legitimate myself in my field, and so everything that grows and thrives is progress and pleasing, and I feel like God is pleased with my work as well with the great bounty of my garden. I think it pleases Him to see me smile.

Although sometimes the fruit or yield is meager, I get a steady supply of supple and tasty fruits. By the time I notice a Strawberry, they need to be eaten within 24 hours or they shrivel and die. Both of my Meier lemon trees have only about a dozen fruit, but for dwarf citris, that's a good yield. I only get a single serving of broccoli or cauliflower every week which, if I wait too long to pick, immediately flowers, but the seeds have sprouted, and I now have more than the single plants with which I started, and the carrot I let flower is so prolific, there are carrot starts in almost every planter. My grapes are tiny but explosive with taste. The garlic is strong, the basil is tall, and the mint is flowering. Most of my fruits are much smaller than you see in stores, but I get two crops per year, and I have about 50 figs, which the birds haven't noticed yet, so I don't have to buy produce anymore except for lettuce since it bolted and flowered and went to seed last week. When I want asparagus, there's basically a handful ready, but there's a handful in both pots, so I can have it periodically no matter what the store price and without having to pay for the stringy portions you throw away anyway. Aside from beets, carrots, tomatoes, and basil, my garden provides only enough for me per day, but I haven't used about 33% of the space, so there is room for growth, and the perennials should increase in yield each year, particularly once the shade trees actually provide shade.

Despite environmental challenges, many things do better here than in other parts of the world. My broccoli and cauliflower survived the "winter" and gave me subsequent crops. My peas reseeded themselves and are growing. My grapevines, two of which come from Vitis riparia seeds I harvested from the Nevada wilderness, shade the berries enough and provide nutrients via michorrizal fungi so that I have new growth on RASPBERRIES in the desert. My house is situated perfectly for a garden- back yard faces east, meaning that the plants get sunlight before 10AM, after which plants stop photosynthesizing in the desert, and then they get shade in the afternoon. My tomatoes are so laden with fruit that they fell over (I didnt' use cages), and my vine crops are spreading everywhere with wispy tendrils. The pumpkins have flowers, the beans are growing up trees, and my artichoke flower was beautiful. I even planted some coffee to see if it would grow, and despite being a Peruvian blend, I have a coffee plant growing in a pot near the Aloe; time will tell if it gives me beans. Don't ask me why my peas are still growing or the broccoli or the cauliflower, and don't ask me what magic trick I used to have so many tomatoes (many coworkers can't grow them to save their lives). I don't know how pumpkins are supposed to grow, but I already have two, and it's only June. I have so many figs, they're falling off the tree before I can eat them. My carrots are thick and clumping and so are the beets.

Starting from the ground up and keeping the big picture in mind helped my garden be better than others. Rather than build my garden in native soil, I decided to build raised beds. This was particularly necessary in my neighborhood since they brought in a meter of dirt to put on top, so I don't know if it's actually soil or if it's just worthless fill. At the bottom of the beds, I lined them with gravel for water percolation, and I spread weed control fabric under the entire yard to prevent establishment of weeds from the soil below. I filled it with good soil- peat moss + horse manure + sand + coffee grounds + organic compost material + Gibeaut's fertilizer, and although it's not as pretty as the loam I saw in UC Davis or in Indiana, it's pretty good soil for the Great Basin. I know that the sun, in addition to dehydrating the plants, damages them, so I found a solution and strung up camoflage netting to filter the sunlight; other options might be better or more visually appealing, but it worked. Planning to put plants in the shade to protect them, in deeper soil to drive root growth, in pots to contain their spread, next to other plants with similar water demands, and in places where they could spread allowed me to maximize my space and minimize loss. The flower garden is the worst part, but I should have grown everything close together, which I will rectify in the fall by planting everything closer together so that the plants can keep each other cool.

My garden looks like a chaotic mess. Partly, I designed that on purpose to offset the fact that all of the planters are square or rectangular boxes, so the plants will soften the edges and make it look less like a male designed and built it. Partly, I'm letting the plants grow and go where they like. Yes, I'm the gardener here, but the plants know far better about how to use the soil than I do. As chaotic as it is, it's also fruitful. My garden is like my life, my house, and my mind. I spent a great deal of time planning, preparing, and planting good seeds, and now it's all coming together but in ways I didn't expect and with fruits I didn't know would come in that season. Some things haven't worked as I liked. The tobacco and wheat and corn and potatoes all died. What remains is reliable and high quality albeit not enough to feed a family let alone the neighborhood. It makes me glad it's in the back so people can't tell that I have a produce section behind the house. Some things have surprised me in positive ways, but I'm glad to see that the sweat equity and intellectual effort hit pay dirt in the outcome. This is one place, and perhaps the only one on earth, where I reliably reap what I sow. Some of the plants that died did so because I was too lazy to water them. Perhaps you think I talk about my garden too much, but it is the one thing where I seem to have consistently positive news. I rejoice over the harvest, and I brought in tomatoes today to work to share with my coworkers because I have in excess. I am richly blessed in things I control, and I look forward to the evenings this summer working in my tiny corner of the Master's Garden tending to things that please the eye, gladden the heart, nourish the body, and replenish the soul.

Updated video to follow this weekend after I compile more pictures and set it to music.

Another 1%

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I belong to a unique and inauspicious 1%. According to statistics, only 1% of single men over the age of 31 in my Faith are still actively participating in the worship and community. Our church is deeply steeped in families and family life, and so a majority of activities and conversation revolves around spouses, children, and the family, none of which I have and none of which seem in my stars for any forseeable future frame. When I attend services each week, it reinforces the fact that I am different, and although they do not imply or treat me as if I were deficient, I cannot help but be reminded of what I have failed to accomplish. As humans, we are impatient and petulant. When things don't go our way, we conclude that we must be on the wrong road, not realizing that nothing great is ever really won without some sort of sacrifice. It takes time and work and patience and practice to become exercised of Faith. It also means that you will be tested, taxed, teased, and tossed, because that's the message of scripture- that blessings come only after a trial period. This is why we have organized religion, so that when times grow difficult you don't have to face them alone; the trouble is that for men there's really no brotherhood of faith because faith and belief are much more the purview of the female. I think that's why it's not good for man to be alone, that men and women were created together and planned to be together, so that in what came to be known as a family a complete unit could exist. There are a few men who can manage it alone I guess, but time will tell if I'm one of them.

Far too many conclude that when their Faith doesn't reward their actions that it's time to find a new Faith. On the contrary, when you don't get what you expect is the first moment when you discover if you truly have any faith at all. Several close friends suggested that I "find a new Faith" or even start my own, but when I explain to them how I believe that the mean man changes the tenants of faith to match his behavior while the virtuous man changes his behavior to match the tenants, they drop the subject. Some are angry with the leaders of my Faith and some are angry with my Creator, but I know that even though even I sometimes unjustly ascribe blame to Him that He cannot or will not force these people to treat me better or orchestrate everything so it turns out peachy for me. What we obtain easily we esteem lightly, and rather than find a religion that validates my worth I realize that I am not the center of the universe. I know other people who shop around different faiths or different congregations of a faith; I also know that those kind of people exclude and dismiss people who are not part of their particular sect. I think this particular attitude bespeaks insecurity and a need to be validated by the opinions of other, fallen men. I am a man of Faith, and that does not become us.

In a Faith that prepares you for, teaches you about, revolves around, and depends on the family unit, it's isolating and disappointing to be alone. We are raised to prepare for, seek, and valiantly act as parts of families. For many people, Plan A never materializes, sometimes for reasons beyond their control. For most of the men, there really isn't a safety network of support; in part, I realize this is because men are usually at fault for being single or being divorced, but in part it's because men are taught to shoulder things alone, and most of the men who can't fade away. If they don't, sitting in communion with the rest draws sharp reflect on what we failed to achieve. It's a badge of shame for men in my Faith to be single, and even in the world at large some think we must be gay or bizarre if we don't even have a girlfriend or anything close to one. It's not that I do not desire a good woman; I haven't found a good woman with whom I am interested in moving forward who feels the same way. My ex wife left a hole in my trust and love and faith that's larger than the state of Texas, and so I am standoffish even with people I meet in church. After all, that's where I met her. My good high school buddy, Jeff, who is a Bishop of the Faith in Texas, told me that one day my experiences will probably serve to surprisingly sustain the floundering faith of another person. I know that when I find others in similar circumstances, I reach out to them. When I was still under 31, I befriended the only other member of my congregation who had been divorced, but I did not tell him why I did it; I didn't want him to feel like a charity case, but I knew what it was like to be alone and lonely. Now, I sit in a row with a bunch of men whose wives are dead, whose children are grown, and whose lives are lonely again for a different reason than mine. A few months back, I gathered them together, and now they notice when I am gone. Even my bishop thinks it's cute to see the mighty priesthood gathered, particularly since the next youngest person on the pew is old enough to be my father, but they really don't have anyone else, and neither do I. Everyone else has kids or someone special with whom to sit and socialize; we have each other.

It takes a special group of people to support and sustain you because men don't really coalesce. I know the world thinks that men band together as if we're all ravenous wolves ready to rip apart any opposition, but we're actually taught to keep it to ourselves, to act tough, to walk it off, and to blow off hurt as if it doesn't matter. Well, it does. Men are people too. Your congregational leaders, especially when they are men, need to be aware of and sensitive to the fact that many men are not where they wish they were. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that some men in my congregation realize that I'm there completely alone. The optometrist fellow has two children under age 5, so I cant' really expect it to dawn on him that I'm not with anyone when his attention is distracted and focused on them. More than the lay folk, leaders make a huge difference in whether or not people feel motivated to continue participating when they don't fit the mold. My particular new congregation of the Faith contains several leaders who reach out to you, keep in touch with you, and find a way for you to be involved if you desire. My current Bishop is meeting with me tonight "just to check up on me". He's not asking me to do anything or calling me to repentance, and although he doesn't speak to me during the meetings each week, I know it's because he has many other people to whom he must speak and that he finds it important to talk to me on my own, alone, and behind his closed door. At least a half dozen people talk to me regularly. Some of them are men; a few are women, and even some of the teenagers will talk to me outside our Sunday School class. I feel like people here know who I am, care how I'm doing, and wish they knew better how to include a man with no spouse or kids, since that's not the norm. It's not ubiquitous. My last congregation was almost 180 degrees out of phase with this one, and I think they breathed relief when I left. With the proper leadership, the proper fellowship, and the proper brotherhood, that 1% has a chance to stay when there is no other reason to stay besides truth.

Ultimately, you continue because you truly believe. You stick with a career because you feel good about what you do; you continue in a relationship because you think it will satisfy your needs for love and acceptance; you stay on a course because you feel it will lead you to the destination of choice. You make time and make effort and make waves because you value what you do or where it leads. I stay at church and in this Faith because I have a testimony. Without it, I would have left church going a long time ago if not entered into a life of debauchery. Both of my close friends quit church years ago because what they saw conflicted with what they were taught. Well, I'm a scientist, and I learned that we can't have all the facts or believe that everything we have as fact is actually true. When the trials come, that's often a sign that you're on the right road. Gamers all know that you can tell you're getting close to the boss/goal/end because the path suddenly grows harder, but in religion they conclude that if it's not roses, rainbows, and rejoicing that they must be wrong, that there must be God somewhere else if there is one at all. That's what the adversary of all righteousness hopes you will conclude. Wrote CS Lewis about the devil: "Our cause is never more in danger when a man, no longer desiring but still intending to do God's will, looks around at a universe from which all trace of Him seems to have vanished, asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys." In time of trial, when you are alone, when you are single, when all around you crumbles down, that is the time to obey and to stand on principles, to tilt at windmills, to refuse to Deny Christ even if you think He has denied you. He never will. Sometimes He remains silent longer than you like so that you can tell just how long you can hold out, just how much faith you actually possess, just how committed you are to Him before He intervenes in the Nick of Time to your rescue. He has always rescued me. If I didn't have a testimony of my Faith and of my Maker, I would have left my church a long time ago and probably have neither church nor religion at all of which to speak. I don't know why it pleases Him to keep me single, to keep me distant, to deny me friends and hope and love and family, or that I need to prove that I really mean it. He already knows my heart. He knows I'll do the best I can with what I have forever and for always no matter what the outcome. People tell me that they envy my faith. What they really mean is that they wish they had my faith without having to walk the path that leads to it. If you want to be in the 1% of faith, you must be prepared to face the trials that create that level of faith.

Road to Golgotha

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Today was a strange day on the mountain in many ways. Apparently, the Forest Service decided to send me up to Mary Jane Falls as the first official foray this season. Winter weather and hiker's poor respect for the trail left this trail in very poor condition. It was also the scene of strange sights, and given the sweltering valley temperatures it was a complete mad house. We found a dead deer not far from the trail, a small grave containing a baby blanket and what I hope was the skeletal remains of a pet, and a group of 40 youth from Central Christian Church carrying a cross up the trail. I guess it really was the way of the dead today, and it's sad.

We like to think most of the time that things happen for a reason, but truth is we really have no idea what those reasons might be. Animals die all the time because of predators, accidents, disease, and advanced age. This particular deer was a young one, not quite a foal, but not an adult from its diminutive stature. Children die all the time. We hope when they do that the people who created them, housed them, and bore them hopefully loved them and did what they could to save and help them. I appreciate that young people desired some sort of appreciation for the struggle of Christ carrying His cross in exercising this trek. I have never seen crusaders before, but these kids seemed less interested in Christ than in impressing each other. That's not strange, but the other hikers on the trail were uncomfortable with this display, and we were all glad when they vacated the falls and returned to the parking lot.

Death, dismay, and dejection are the rule in life. It was a beautiful day, good exercise, and a successful reconnoiter, but it was sad to see the state of the trail and all of the litter. I got over death as an undergrad when I used to essentially slaughter plants looking for salt-tolerant mutants. Soon after that, I realized that you can't really eat without eating things that someone killed. Even plants are living things. It's sad when the foals die, when children die, and when young people engage in a misguided effort or a good cause for the wrong reasons. Each hike reminds me that you work really hard to rise above the din and dissonance and distractions of the world only to have to come back down in order to deal with coworkers, neighbors, family members, and absolute strangers who stir up trouble in your life. Sometimes the trail is torn up and sometimes the waterfall is dry when we arrive. Part of it's timing, and the other part's luck, and sometimes you may feel as I do that without bad luck you might not have any at all.

As we grow older, the hope and optimism of youth gives way to the pessimism and cynical dejection of adulthood. I really hate that I feel this way, but I got the impression that the males in the youth group were less Jesus freaks and more there to impress the girls in the troupe so that they could have romantic opportunities. When Bob reported the grave, my mind immediately jumped to "intentional dump by a woman who didn't want anyone to know she had a kid". I'm far too young to be this jaded, to be this bitter, to brood and brood and brood. I hate feeling like shaking my fist at the heavens and asking God to go bless someone else for a while. Truth is that when I got divorced, the person I was died,, making way and room for this one, and since then I've struggled to do what is right while other people reap what I sow. I guess that's really one message of Golgotha- "For surely he hath bourne our griefs and carried our sorrows, and we esteemed him scorned and smitten of men..." If you truly decide to go up higher, you must expect that other people profit while you perspire, because He who was greatest among us descended below them all.

My adult life experience came as quite a shock. I have learned things I never hoped were true. I have experience things I never imagined I would. I know things I wish I didn't. I have paid for others mistakes. I have paid for almost all of my own. I have even paid for good things I did. To a small degree, I know a little about the road to Golgotha. Jesus carried His own cross. He was hung out to dry for the sins of others. He watched other people benefit from His suffering without appreciating it. He was better than I- He did it because He loved us. Owing to the auspices of the mortal realm, many things in our lives will die. We will lose hope, lose faith, lose loved ones, lose opportunities, lose our way, and ultimately every one of us will die. The atonement of Christ, in that olive garden on the mount across from Golgotha, serves to alleviate all of those except for one, and when He rose after dying on Golgotha, it completed the lot. Christ marched up that hill to Golgotha to breathe life into everything that makes life wonderful. He needed to suffer so that He would know how to succor His people. Now, I don't have the answers, and I can't say that it's easy or that the rewards have come, but because of Golgotha I know that one day they will come, they must. Even in science, we talk about balance, about the circular nature of things, that what you do comes back to you. One of my students recently said "The person in front of you is the person furthest behind you" to which I made the connection that this is why "karma" takes so long sometimes, because although those people are in front of you, they're also WAY behind you, and it takes the long road to get back to you. On that long road, wherever you are and whatever you do, I'll be right here waiting for you.