thewritingprofessor55

Hello on a Saturday evening,

I remain in Bloomsburg certainly a couple weeks beyond my expected departure date, and with perhaps two more weeks to go. The subjunctive mood perhaps is because I honestly have no real concrete, predictable, date of the installing of a correct transmission and what will follow to be on the road. I am hoping by November 1st, but I will not hold my breath. Without an iota of doubt, I know I am at the mercy of schedules, hurricanes, and freight companies. On a positive note, however, the new windows arrived and are currently installed. That is a major piece of creating a livable space as I travel. Additionally, still being here made managing the wedding that I was part of this week much less arduous. And spending time in Sullivan County (the Northern tier of Pennsylvania) was quite spectacular in mid-October. Spending time with my former student on her special day, being blessed to be accepted as a family member by her parents and grandparents, made the day even more memorable for all.

As I write this we are 17 days from the official Election Day, though I have little confidence we will go to bed that night knowing who will be the President-elect. And let me say this unequivocally, it is not because of any malfeasance, but rather because of the continued data that shows how close the election seems to be. When states like my current state, Pennsylvania, cannot, by law, count early ballots until Election Day (2.6 million mail-in ballots were cast in 2020), it is impossible to do that in 24 hours. If I had even a quarter for every text message or email I have received in this election cycle, I think I could repay myself for much of the money I have spent on the bus build. As much as I enjoy the concept of political discourse, of the function of the federal government, and how we have, until recently, believed that our election process is safe, I find myself exhausted by the tenor, the volume, and the increasingly dystopic reality of our elective process.

It is this that brings me to both the title of my post and the real focus of this blog. The power wielded by the two parties in our federal system is untenable if we want to argue we are a government of, by, and for the people. I can appreciate what Vice President Harris wants to assert that she wants to be for the people, and I am even willing to go as far as saying I think she intends to be that kind of President (and I am also aware that some, even those dear to me, will disagree vehemently). I am also quite aware of their arguments. My reasons for believing her are the onion in my title. There are layers to why I either do, or hope to, believe. And yet not all of it is sweet, and some of the elements might create tears. Since she became a candidate, she has raised 1,000,000,000.00 (that is billion) dollars. That is both incredible, and asinine. Former President Trump has raised about half that amount, but that does not include PACs for either candidate. Open Secrets, an organization that follows election spending, expects that almost 16 billion dollars will be spent in total for the 2024 cycle. That is more than the GDP of around 50 countries. Think about that. And I am well aware that many in either side of our political spectrum believe we are still left with the choice that is the lesser-of-two-evils. I am not there, but I am still disenchanted with what we have become. I should also note I have already voted.

I do believe the political process itself has become an unpredictable monster, the ogre. It is completely understandable why many feel disenfranchised, disaffected, and disappointed. The consequences of these three adjectives is profound. At best people stand on the sideline believing their vote is irrelevant. At worst, they believe there is something much more sinister, more malevolent, at work. And that lesser than positive belief came to the fore following the last election. I am not sure if there is an idealism that I desperately hang on to or if there is a naïveté that allows me to believe we can still move forward in the true spirit of representative democracy or if it is truly that democracy is always messy. When I step back and examine both candidates, there is certainly much more than a difference in vision for the country. It is even more than a blue versus a red dichotomy. It is more complex than Federalism versus States’ Rights. It has become generational; it has become more complicated because of the reality of what former President Trump did and who he is in terms of both his Presidential conduct, which has been ruled on by the SCOTUS, and in his personal dealings, which do overlap his getting into office in the first place. That too is an onion of sorts, and it is dealing with the monster (the ogre) he seemed to create. Again, I realize there is some disagreement with my perspective.

As a rhetorical scholar, I am steeped in the idea of discourse, of coming to consensus, and I have strong feelings about appropriateness, about decorum, and about civility. It is for those reasons I struggle to respect the former President. I believe that truth is essential to creating the character of the person who represents us in the highest office of the country. I believe the Commander in Chief needs to show deference to those who serve in the military, support our allies, and exhibit a character that the American public can readily support. The number of people who say they do not like him, they do not like what he says or how he acts, but will still vote for him boggles my mind. Perhaps he is both the Ogre and the onion. During the last year, the decline of President Biden became such an issue he stepped aside (and I sure the pressure on him to do so was immense). Former President Trump has shown many of the same issues, but many want to say there is no such issue. Again, the job of the President has enormous responsibilities, expectations, requirements, physically, mentally, and emotionally. The reality is the Republican Party has been decimated by this supposed businessman/politician. And yet, while I am comfortable with the move to Kamala Harris, I suspect there are layers to that onion I might not like. The power that either the DNC or the RNC hold is immeasurable. Where does that leave the American public? Perhaps our entire political process is an ogre.It might seem that I am disillusioned, but I am not. This is where the onion comes into play. As noted, I have already voted, and I am adamant that everyone who has the ability to vote should do so. It is the way to make some difference in what happens. The difference in the vote count in Florida in the 2000 election when the Gore v. Bush recount was stopped by the SCOTUS was 537 votes. That was out of 101,450,508 (which Al Gore actually won the popular vote). That is a difference of .000529. The difference was less than 1/4 the freshman class at the university I taught at this past year. There is my numerical reason that argues your vote matters. And the 21st century has shown that we are an evenly divided country in pretty much every election since. The last real landslide in terms of the popular vote was 1984, and four of the most lopsided have been in my lifetime (1964, 1972, 1980, and the ‘84 elections). One of the others was Lincoln’s re-election in 1864 (history.com). The reasons chose for not voting are certainly varied, but feeling it does not matter hovers toward the most common. A recent study showed that over 20 million people do not have or find it difficult to obtain an ID necessary to vote (that shocked me); another significant reason is Election Day is not a federal holiday. Again, not something I thought of. Economic barriers (less than half making less than $20,000 voted in 2012), which can affect everything from issues of transportation to information, are shown to disenfranchise (Rodriguez, 2020). As the person with privilege, which I must admit I am, I seldom realize that my opportunity to vote is not what all experience. The onion is certainly more layered than I often see. The reality of our democracy, of our Republic as some are now wont to call it, arguing they are not the same, is we are controlled to some degree by the Elons, the Jeffs, the Marks, and the billionaires who control our capitalist nation. Have I been successful and blessed in my life? Yes; in comparison to the generations of my ancestors, I have. However, more importantly, those who control the vast majority of our national wealth, those who have incredible influence on our national interests, want me to believe, want you to believe, that. If we are content, they can do what they do. Again, all layers of the onion we have. Perhaps it was not by accident that my incredible history teacher, Mr. Larry Flom, used to refer to the Union (the United States) as the Onion. Perhaps there is more to the satirical news outlet being called the Onion than I first thought.

As we move rapidly (and perhaps not rapidly enough for some) towards Election Day, it is my fervent hope and prayer that we can, as a nation, cast our votes, support our democracy, and believe what we do as an individual citizen matters. In spite of the complexity that is our republic, that is our nation, let us support those who seem to be more vulnerable than ever, the people working the polls. Let us remember they are citizens just as we are. Finally, I need to give the priest at our local Catholic Parish credit for the title of my blog. Music and politics are sometimes strange bedfellows, but I offered this video as a reminder of those who put their lives on the line for our democracy every day. Semper Fi!

Thank you as always for reading, and please vote.

Michael

Hello from All Star Bagel Shop in Lewisburg,

I have come over here before, and twice in the last month to get away and hide a bit. Lewisburg is an incredible little borough on the banks of the Susquehanna as well as the home of Bucknell University. I have a blessed friend who is employed here, and a couple of other people I know. The quaint shops, nice restaurants, and the care given for all aspects of town is evident in every direction. And the bagels here arae quite wonderful as well. It is a nice respite to disappear into some relative obscurity at times. There is a comfort in doing what I do, thinking about what I find important to consider at the moment, and even disappear into the world of sound in my Airpods, the music I sometimes return to as well as learning new possibilities. We are into the typical fall days of the hills and nearby mountains of Pennsylvania. While there are some small hints of autumn in the trees, green is still predominant. However, the mornings are crisp, and the need for long-sleeves at the minimum, which of course turn to warm (and moderately hot) afternoons which scream you are overdressed. And yet it is my favorite time of the year. I have always enjoyed the beginning of fall and the return to the classroom. One particular fall I remember was my first foray into the academy as a student. I was in Ames, Iowa, and I remember the beauty of the fall, the colors of the trees, the streets teaming with students, and the incredible vibrancy of the streets as I walked from the Towers to campus. Perhaps that is one of the things that drew me to teaching (not merely Ames, but school in general). While there are some elements I am missing this fall, I must say I am quite content to be required to do only what I decide. It is still a strange feeling, but I am adapting.

On of the albums that has shown up on my playlist as of late is Don Henley’s classic, The End of Innocence. The title song was co-written by Bruce Hornsby, which is readily evident. I remember when it came out, as I was already aware of his work with the Eagles, his duet with Stevie Nicks, or his other collaborative catalog. His song “The Boys of Summer, of course, became synonymous with the Olympic Men’s Gymnastics team, However, the title song from the above mentioned album rings true for me in so many ways as we consider our current world. Even in my somewhat difficult childhood, when I was outside the house, I found a comfort in the people of my neighborhood, my childhood friends and those individuals I refer to (even today) as surrogate parents. The Sopocis, the Reeses, the Goedes (those who grew up with me will recognize those names). What were my best defenses at the time? Trying to stay below the radar even when I was in sight. Trying to do what was necessary to avoid any disproportionate response, and looking forward to church things or other events that would allow me to find solace in the midst of others. I am not sure I ever had a “happily ever after,” but I probably wished for one. I remember laying my “head back on the ground” when I was in my grandmother’s yard. From her house on the hill, you could look out and see the grain towers of the Jolly Time Popcorn Company. As a little boy, I did not know what they were, but I imagined they were the streets of heaven. That was before the “end of my innocence.”

I am not sure where innocence failed me. I can think of moments where it was definitely dented and dinged, but when did it really disappear? Was it when my sister ran away for the first time in 3rd grade because she was afraid of the punishment she would receive because of her report card? Was it two years later when she ran away again, this time jumping on freight train, hoping to find her (our) father? Was it the first time I was told I was not deserving of being an adopted person, that I would grow up to be a nobody? As an elementary school person, and one smaller than most everyone else, what I know now is that had more consequence than I realized. It affected my sister and me (for her the remainder of her days). While I have come to terms with those things in many ways, I think there are still fundamental ways it influences my understanding of others as well as myself. I wonder about the concept of innocence. Certainly there is the legal idea of blamelessness, and while I think by extension there is a relationship here, it is not what I believe to be most significant. There is the idea that one has no malice (this is both a sort of sociological idea for me as well as a religious concept. Sometimes, I think that is more how I look at it generally. There is the idea that one tries to be harmless when it comes to their relationship with another. In my more idealistic moments, I find myself gravitating toward this. It reminds me of Luther’s dialectic of simultaneously saint and sinner. The lack of malice is really the thing that I feel was what was the most significant thing I lost at some point. The hurt of that time turned into sadness, and sometimes it would evolve into bitterness. I did so much to try to stay away from the negativity, but even if it was not apparent on the surface, it found its way into my being like an insidious infection. And much like some infections, I was not cognizant that it was always there, lurking in the background, ready to erupt at times when least expected. Sometimes, I hoped for some prescription that could vanquish that hurt once and for all, but I have learned there is no such thing. We want that miracle, but too often we stand in the way of the miraculous possibility of some cleansing gift, some hope for a washing that might create a new purity.

One of the things I find most mesmerizing is watching a small infant or child (months old and still not verbal). I ponder what they are absorbing with their eyes as they look at everything around them. There is an innocence and purity in their gaze, the opportunity to take it all in without preconceived notions about what it is. Perhaps there is a reason our eyeballs are their true size at birth. It allows for taking in as much as possible from the outset. As I find myself with more time to imagine and ponder, as I have downsized to the point that some believe I have lost my wits, I am feeling more free, unfettered, and content than I have for ages. If things go according to plan, even more the most part, I plan to be out of Bloomsburg a month from today. That will be a significant change. . . . at the moment, some time has passed since I began this. The majority of the blog has been written this afternoon, and I am sitting in Fog & Flame, another coffee shop, and as I look out at another beautiful autumn afternoon and looking up Main Street, there is a hint of color on the trees that line the roadway. The bug is sitting on the street in front of F&F and the top is down. It’s been a wonderful week of fall weather as well as a busy week of events, some planned way back in the Spring. Next week seems to be more of the same. . . .

It’s Saturday and best laid plans of finishing this flew by the wayside. Wednesday and Thursday were spent driving almost 22 hours in total to see a 2 1/2 hour WNBA game between the Indiana Fever and the Las Vegas Aces. Seeing Caitlin Clark play at the next level, and seeing Kate Martin, though she did not play, was a sort of proud Iowa Hawkeye moment. what was most endearing was to listen to the crowd and observe and hear women from 3 to 83 cheer on their team. There were two elementary girls behind me and their passion, and even their basketball acumen, were incredible. The Fever did not win, but it was a wonderful experience. Yesterday, I was asked to present to the faculty of an area school my understanding of AI and its appropriate use in the public school classroom. The response was very positive. Last night, I drove to Wilkes Barre for a rally with Vice President Harris. It was an invitation only, and I did not have a ticket, but the atmosphere on the Wilkes University campus was electric. Again to see so many people about town there who could not get into the venue was heartening. Again I saw men and women of all ages supporting our democratic process. There was a smattering of former President Trump supporters (and I stood observing for a bit and no one bad-mouthed them – which is how it should be) as well as some pro-Palestinian protesters. Again, people were respectful.. Today, I am invited to the Bloomsburg football game and tomorrow it is off to Lancaster to officiate a wedding on Monday. In all of this, there is a goodness, perhaps an element of purity. From the joy of a small girl cheering on their basketball heroine to hoping for democracy to work, from those believing college is their way forward to two wonderful people beginning their lives as a married couple, I am reminded of my father’s response when I asked him about how retirement was going for him. He responded, “I am so busy, I’m not sure where I found time to go to work.” I think I understand. Certainly, it is still different. There is an innocence on my part as I move into this new world. So much to learn, imagine, and still do. Perhaps it’s merely an extension of what has always happened, but with much less stress. I like it.

Thanks as always for reading.

Michael (the retired version)

Hello from breakfast at Cracker Barrel,

The first day I came to visit Bloomsburg, with my friends, colleagues now, and somewhat surrogate family, the Deckers, we came to eat at the local Cracker Barrel. It was a warm Saturday afternoon in May, but it was a restaurant I recognized and enjoyed (breakfast is my favorite meal). This morning, I am back, some 15 years later, and pondering that beginning of a new chapter. That chapter has now ended, and I am embarking on yet another journey (this one both figurative and literal) as I complete my time in Bloomsburg (and at Bloomsburg – Commonwealth). When I arrived in the Spring of 2009, I was both excited and apprehensive. The move back to Pennsylvania had me with an hour and a half from where I had been a parish pastor some 20 years before, it necessitated leaving an elderly woman I had committed to caring for back in Wisconsin as well as leaving an incredibly important person in my life. And then where was the leaving one tenured track position, which I had to some degree failed in managing, to another. Fortunately, the person picking me up that day understood my situation – perhaps better than I did – and his mentorship would be instrumental in what I have accomplished here in North Central Pennsylvania.

Certainly the clichés about commencement being an ending and a beginning are well-known, but this ending is about that idea of completing the thing we prepare for from early on. Retirement is understood as both a completion, but imagining life in a totally new manner. Others tell you it is a wonderful time, and they have enjoyed it beyond anything expected. As I ponder, I am not sure I know (or remember) anyone who has detested their retiring. And yet, I am learning daily there are new things to manage, and most of them, at least thus far, have to do with paperwork and medical care. I must say that most of it has gone smoothly, but there are things that are managed differently (and it is not always intuitive or logical). Planning in advance is imperative, and I am generally a planner.

A former department chair wrote a book titled Retiring Minds, a thoughtful and humorous consideration of academics moving on beyond the classroom. I began reading it and need to return to it, which means in my packing of things I need to find it again, or reach out to the author. I am not sure I see it as some profound end and the of beginning of a new life or person. Perhaps that is because of the anticipating and preparing I have done over the past year. There were conscious decisions made the last three and a half years, both in terms of work taken on as well as managing my health, which had been an issue since my late 20s. At one point, the assistance of another made a significant change in my possibilities, the various roads forward. It is only as I reach this point I can appreciate the accuracy of their prediction. Their insight, their example, and their kindness are all appreciated beyond words.

One of the things I did over the past few years was to continue to travel, to examine options, and to carefully consider things without locking myself into anything. There were times it felt like I was merely moving toward an abyss of sorts, but there was so much in the daily requirements that I was never frightened about the what-if approaching. Managing the daily things that academe throws at us, and the amount of things continues to increase, can be all consuming. I will say the feeling of freedom of not needing something by tomorrow has been liberating. Even the meeting with the breakfast crew seems different. There is no scheduled office hour or other requirement (e.g. Brightspace (the CMS), grading, jillions of emails) to wrangle. Indeed, that seems to be the most incredible difference. Yesterday, a former colleague asked if I missed anything, and I answered, albeit a bit hesitantly, “No.” It sounded a bit selfish, but it was also truthful. However, on the other hand, I never regretted going to work; I did not detest the long hours nor the feeling that I was never really caught up. I loved when the lights came on about some issue or a student noted something amazing they had not considered prior to that moment. I found unparalleled satisfaction in knowing someone grew, their thought-process matured, or they found new possibilities n’er before realized. What an incredible life I have been blessed to lead.

And now, a new adventure begins, though it is for me just an additional chapter of what has been an unpredictable life, one both planned and simultaneously left somewhat to chance. I recently noted that I can, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, but even then there is a plan. The time spent researching, imagining, and trying to control the variables of this new adventure is both inside and outside my wheelhouse. The researching and planning are not new, in spite of the reality that I am working with skills that are not new conceptually, but they certainly are experientially. Regardless that I grew up with a journeyman electrician for a father, my wiring experience is minimal at best. It matters not that I had two bathrooms remodeled in my home, and I watched the process quite intently, my actually laboring to do it is pretty non-existent. Then there is solar, compostable plumbing, gray-water tanks, or carpentry. The learning curve will be steep. But as importantly, I have the time. That is the most important thing. I do have a proposed schedule, but there are still so many pieces to work out. The first two important pieces include the windows, which are being manufactured in Washington as I write this. The second piece, and one mostly unexpected, but deep-down perhaps not, is the installation of a rebuilt transmission, and that is pricey, but a necessity. I am working on my new video, but learning Camtasia on the fly at the same time. I have thoughts, hopes, and expectations of this also. It will take some dedicated, thoughtful, and meticulous work on a number of levels, but I want to create something both inspiring and memorable. I need to perhaps ask a couple of people to assist in small ways on the technology piece, but it’s exciting to imagine. There are moments I feel like my ducks-are-in-row, but there are times I see no ducks!! Next week, if I get the house issues pretty much behind me (which should be manageable), ordering of some of the significant pieces of the electrical, solar, batteries, and other necessities for the power and cooling/heating in the bus. There are some essentials I need to consider, and working with a couple people on specifics next week will be important.

The reason for getting the house emptied first is so I can singularly focus on the various elements of the build. The second reason for waiting until next week is about managing cash-flow because there will be a significant layout of cash coming soon. I am trying to be both not cheap as well as simultaneously frugal. While this might seem oxymoronic, I do believe it is possible, but it will take time, thought, and patience. I think my propensity for process will pay off, or I surely hope so. Over the last months I have spent time watching the videos of other builds, and examining what occurred carefully. I hope to learn from the experience of others. Even before the really down-and-dirty of the build, unexpected occurrences have been normal. I considered wrapping the bus. Someone’s decision (prior owner) to paint the bus with latex paint banished that option. Windows with no screens are a no-go, so replacing 7 windows requires UPS and working with a company in Washington state. My own concern about the shifting (or lack of appropriate shifting) has necessitated replacing the transmission, which is neither cheap or instantaneous. New shocks seemed like a good plan considering the additional weight and amount of driving that will occur. All of this is before the build. I am sure there will be other unanticipated occurrences. Learning will abound. In the meanwhile, I will hopefully have a new video up early in the week. It is a step forward in production from the first one, I am not sure the sound is where I want it. And there are other things to manage, more learning. The link to my YouTube site is: https://youtu.be/QbTzS55DWhE . Please do subscribe and follow. I am going to document the entire project. I need to offer shout outs to @S&S Glass of Berwick, @chuckcsssady, @edenthebus, @dayzea, @peninsulaglass, @steveshannontire, and independenceford at this point.

The video here is a recent version of the classic Jackson Brown tune about the end of his shows. The recent version reminds me of the reality of aging, the reality of endings and beginnings. It is life, and it has been and will be an adventure.

Thanks as always for reading.

Michael (the retired version)

Hello from my corner in Panera,

I ate breakfast, and I am currently waiting for my to-go order to be prepared. It has been uncharacteristically cool a number of mornings, a harbinger of the Fall which is to soon arrive. A drive on I-80 had already revealed the changing of colors, so I am not sure what that forecasts for the winter. Are we ever prepared for weather or do we merely adapt on the fly? I know the returning of students, the seemingly always poor planning of managing street projects (resurfacing the main street in town as traffic exponentially increases), or the unexpected closure this morning of other main thoroughfares has made a simple drive from point A to B seem like I made it halfway through our alphabet.

As noted in almost every platform, retirement, which has been a focus, is now a reality. I have a week of not being required by any entity to be somewhere at a given time. That has allowed for other things (e.g. packing, selling, donating, mailing, managing paperwork, or planning) to find themselves front-and-center. Last night I had my first experience of trying to manage my medications on new things like Medicare Parts A,B, and D and my supplemental. It appears this two week period from my actual retirement date to the beginning of the month as well as where the prescriptions are managed (in terms of Medicare or Blue Cross) are something I will need to manage differently. I have a kind pharmacist who had a coupon code, and his understanding saved me a couple hundred dollars. Thank you to my Weis pharmacist. While thought I had everything covered, I found out I was underprepared. There is much more complexity to all aspects of simplifying than I knew. I am a person who prefers not to fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants, but can if by necessity. And yet, I do everything I can to prevent such a situation. Alert: what you will read below could perhaps shock some because it is a painful confession of profound failure on my part, and it might change some opinions. It is a guilt that has affected me for over half my life. It was how I acted earlier in my life.

I find myself pondering this: when are we actually prepared for much of what life presents? When do we completely comprehend the parameters or adequately plan for the contingencies? Too often, we manage neither. Today is an anniversary of sorts, but one that did not happen. It would be a 40 year wedding anniversary if I were still married to my college girlfriend. We were married about 9 years when our divorce was finalized. While some of the reasons for our marital demise were issues created by both individuals, there are certainly things that were my fault. They were my failures, and for some of those things there was (and is) no excuse. I better understand today what contributed to my actions, I am accountable for everything I did (or didn’t do). Failure to support her adequately when she struggled; failure to be able to manage my frustration or anger when I was in my late 20s or early 30s. Was I abusive? Yes. I was, and there is shame connected to that yet today. Failure to be as faithful as I should have been. There is much more one could say here, but I need only look at myself. I did not maintain my fidelity as well as I should have. Those are terrible admissions to make, but I need to make them.

It is here there is both a profound degree of failure and a connection to being unprepared. Even as a former pastor who stood before others reminding them of the importance of trust, I was not as trustworthy as I should have been. I was selfish and stupid. It is something I never did in my second marriage, so perhaps I learned through my own self loathing. Failure that affects another is much more significant because it has a kind of concentric, exponential consequence.

Some 40 years later I look at the picture (the one at the top of this post) and I think about that Friday evening. I was almost 29. Perhaps there is something strangely apropos that it is a bit blurry. I was in seminary, and I thought I had things pretty well figured out. Nothing could be further from the truth. I was a mess on so many levels, and yet I believed I was doing the appropriate thing by getting married. But I was nowhere close to being prepared for such a commitment. And yet, exactly what prepares us for such a set or level of promises made to another?

When I think back to my mindset 40 years ago, I thought I was prepared to be married. In spite of a return of a ring during a Summer Greek program, in spite of a failure to breakup with their former boyfriend, in spite of people warning me about some potential issues, I believed I could handle it all. That is both foolish and a failure; it is both egotistical and unwise. I am guilty of all of it. Therefore, the question appropriately asked is a simple why? There is no simple answer. The truth is, however, very simple. Regardless the actions of the other, and I will not give any specifics, my choice to do what I did, what I didn’t, my emotional responses or reactions are mine. I need to own them. That is still painful. I remember that night thinking I could not be more in love with someone. Now 40 years later, I wonder if I had any idea what it meant to love another. I think I was in love with the concept of being in love, of having a family, of creating my own version of the American dream. Of course, at that time, I was more clueless than intelligent; I was more unprepared than underprepared. In spite of the many things I did that were appropriate, loving, and supportive, I failed at some of the most foundational. And much like the Biblical house on the sand, a marriage was destroyed by a lack of trust from either person. I could belabor the specifics, but to what end.

At this point in my life, as I noted with someone the other day, keeping my word, being trustworthy, and having integrity matter to me as much as anything. I did not manage those things earlier in my life, with grave consequence. It is interesting that some things people believed to be true weren’t, and some concerns were unfounded or inaccurate, but there were things perhaps even undetected that destroyed both a marriage as well as my own personal sense of self-worth. It has taken decades to face that failure. And the irony of confessing it today does not go unnoticed or understated. That night I sang at my own wedding, and I know in my heart I felt and believed every word I sang. It is the video below. The song will always hold a special place in my heart because, in spite of my failing, I am a hopeful (and hopeless) romantic. To the person who wishes to be such: I wish you success where I failed. I hope you are prepared for the storms in ways I was not. I hope for those pondering their life shared with another that you will manage it much better than I. If I have created some dilemma for those who thought better of me, I hope you might find that the person you know now is more genuine, more trustworthy, and more believable than the person I was 40 years ago.

Thank you as always for reading.

Michael

Hello on a Saturday morning,

Being principled is something I ponder on a regular basis. It is something that seems conceptually straightforward, and then again perhaps not, but it certainly is not something easy to manage. Principles are related to one’s morals, their values, but most importantly, their actions. When speaking to my students, regardless the class, there was always an ethical component to the course. It might be understandable to ask why I might choose to include this, but I hope it is as possible to comprehend the significance of doing it.

Undoubtedly, the importance of an ethical process seems as extreme as ever. Regardless your perspective, people from all backgrounds seem to bemoan the unethical behavior of those with whom they disagree. Of course, all too often that it not as much an ethical question as it is a process or outcomes issue, but that is a concern for a different post. The point is ethics or the adherence to an ethical methodology is a complex thing. The commitment to following through with a particular set of values or morals is not a simple understanding of something being right or wrong. And that is because we do not have the same values, morals, or understanding of how to employ them. Some of this is cultural and some of it is environmental experience. I would like to believe we all begin with some of the same basics, but even watching young children, and their different behavior toward others causes me to question what it is that teaches or establishes the basis for living a life informed by a sense of morality or structured by a set of values.

And yet are there some foundational moral statutes, some essential values, that we hold as basic to establishing a society that can function in a manner that provides some sense of safety, some expectation of normalcy? I think perhaps being truthful, committing oneself to not stealing or injuring another might be a place to start. And yet even those behaviors are suspect when we consider how we employ the economics of our current world, when we look at what is happening in Ukraine, the Middle East, or even on our streets. And yet, it is not the intention of this blog to fall into some sense of despair by our failures. In my last blog, I spoke about the group of men I often have more coffee with, though I have been out and about and away for more than a week to 10 days. Most of them have been married to their spouses for a half a century. One particular gentleman lost his wife a year or so ago, and she was in a memory unit for some time because of advanced Alzheimer’s, but he visited her almost daily. He would share pictures of her in her earlier years, telling stories of their owning a family restaurant on Main Street. Another currently is losing his wife to cancer, and he has been in every hospital in three or four counties trying to get her the best care possible. Their commitment to caring for each other is a testament to the things I listened to during the homily at a wedding this past Friday evening. The priest spoke about an incredible love that comes not from ourselves, but rather is instilled in us from a heavenly Creator. Regardless the piety you might have, surely a commitment to a love that seems beyond our human understanding or ability comes from somewhere other worldly. It is not a perfect thing, but it is an evolving, dynamic sense of selflessness that might surprise even ourselves. My father referred to it as the ability to give 150% to the other. He noted it is about willing to give the extra when one’s partner cannot give their part.

I admire when two people can do that for the other day in and day out, turning the days into weeks, months, years, and decades. It is a difficult thing to admit I was not capable of doing that. I was too fragile in my own sense of self to maintain that sense of commitment to a spouse. That fragility created a sense of unworthiness, a sense of loneliness, even when married, that undermined trust, eroded our mutuality, and often left me wondering why I struggled so much. What I have been compelled to realize is in a first marriage I was more in love with the idea of being married and having a family than I was in love with the other person. That is painful to realize, and taking responsibility for my failure has been a long time in coming. Certainly, there were other things that eventually led her to file for a divorce, but I have learned to own my part of that. I owe her a multitude of apologies for my failures. As some know, I was almost 29 the first time I was married and that will be 40 years ago this month. I was a very different person. On the outside, most thought I had my life together pretty well. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I was searching for a sense of worth in almost every area of my life, but I could not find it.

The second time I found myself married I was 40 years old. And as I tell people to this day, if there was a person I have loved in my life, it was my second wife. In fact, I still love her in some ways. I tell people if she walked in a room I was in, even now, I would be a bit of a mess. It would take incredible thought and fortitude to remind myself that our relationship was not healthy. Again, I have some responsibilities for that failure. My inability to work with the difficulties that characterized our marriage taught me a lot, and in fact, I am still learning. I have been single now for a quarter of a century. Not what I expected, but probably what I needed. Even in this past 6 months a reconnection with a profoundly talented, attractive, and good person, something that was intentionally planned did not convince me to abandon my singleness. While on one hand that was disappointing, it was also instructive. It pushed me to understand things about myself. It forced me to question quite honestly what I am capable of doing. It also pushed me toward embracing the immediate plans post retirement, which will be a solitary adventure for the near future.

As I look at some of those dear to me, I see various examples of commitment to another, to the long-term. I think of my dear cousins, and how even among them there are differences. When I look at my nieces and nephews, again, there is no recipe card for success. What makes any relationship successful? It is not merely staying together for me; there is something more. And yet, what is it? Again at the wedding this weekend, as I am prone to do, I observed all the people, pondering all the different ways I saw this commitment to another. I listen to people and take in the comments, both positive as well as some less so, imagining what it is that keeps them together.

Certainly, their sense of commitment is sometimes due to the fear of what might happen if they decide to split up. Sometimes they stay because it is supposedly easier; and sometimes it is a true sense hinting the vows once made. There is certainly a difference between loving someone and liking them. I once wrote I think my father loved my mother, but I do not think he liked her. That was a commitment to a vow, and yet, I am not convinced it was a healthy way to live. That too gives me pause. However, I did watch my father give my mother every chance to live, even after she had died on that bedroom floor. That will be 35 years ago tomorrow that he had to left her go. That is stunning to me. It is also 100 years ago tomorrow that Lydia, the last person who was like a parent to me, was born. Happy Century, Lydia. In someways, I was committed to caring for Lydia as I was to anyone. She had been a widow for almost a decade, and would live almost two decades longer than her husband. She taught me about commitment in ways I had not previously experienced. When she and George came to America during the post-WWII era, they committed themselves, as many others who chose self-exile to becoming Americans, often giving up their language, their food, and much of their culture. That takes profound fortitude, unparalleled desire, to change almost everything, to adapt on the fly. I remember Lydia telling me she took diction tutoring to try to eliminate her accent. It never worked, and that frustrated her.

And yet she was as committed to her new country as anyone born here, perhaps even more. She never missed the opportunity to vote. She paid significant attention to both national and local issues, and she was unabashedly opinionated about the importance of democracy. This sort of intentionality is something we could all learn from. It is much like the same intention, the consistency I see in my morning colleagues to their significant others. I am in awe of this ability to another person. I wish I was more successful in that ability. The picture above is of Lydia in her yard, shortly after I met her. In spite of her patriotism, she was still a proud Austrian. Her love of Strauss was never lost, and I often this Strauss piece as a way to finish this post

Thank you as always for reading.

Dr. Martin