In 1984 I learned to fly. It was a way to bring my family to my speaking engagements without having to buy expensive airline tickets for each person. It soon became much more than that. Flying got in my blood. There is nothing on earth as exhilarating as viewing earth from above. This flight was resplendent with unique cloud formations, a rouge rainbow, and a perspective of earth not available to those with their feet planted in the grass. Here are a few examples of what I saw.
Today I honor the Veteran I loved the most by remembering my Father’s last battle and his ultimate Victory. My Dad was a survivor of the Bataan Death March, the survivor of three and a half years as a prisoner of war, and the ulimate survivor of a five year battle with Alzheimer’s disease.
Several years ago a very public man suggested that those who face this last and most cruel battle are “Really not here.” At the time I was compelled to respond in rebuttal because to remain silent, would be a disservice to my family and my father. This adaptation of that post is not a rebuttal. It is my tribute to my dad. A man who suffered so profoundly for our freedom. Who deserved my respect and love even in his worst hours of suffering.
My dad went to heaven after suffering from Alzheimer’s for over five years. In the end he recognized no one, and could carry on no meaningful conversation. His every need had to be taken care of by others. He spent much time staring blankly into space. But he mattered.
If you ask people what they believe they will often be willing to drone on for hours about what they say they believe. But really there is no reason to ask. If you want to discover the beliefs or character of a person you only need to take one action.
According to philosopher Aristotle, “Nature abhors a vacuum.” My cat abhors a vacuum too. I remember the day I held her and turned on the vacuum at the same time. Bad Idea! You can’t drop the cat or turn off the vacuum fast enough to avoid life threatening injuries.
I am a closet watercolor painter. Unfortunately my perfectionism has kept me from painting for several years and made me afraid to show my work in public for fear of criticism.
I have thrown dozens of paintings away because they weren’t perfect. On other paintings in an effort to get it perfect I repainted so many times that the result was a gooey mess. But this time was different. This time I was painting the King of the Forest!