We Meet The River Styx

Sounds of rushing water thunder in the near distance. It’s the cacophony of the river Styx reverberateing from one side of the canyon to another.

The thunder lacks clarity, familiarity, comprehension . After all, we’ve played in canyon streams for decades. There is a comfort, a healing which comes as barefooted we cross the soft rounded stones which lead to waterfalls and natural dams.. the sound gives us comfort.

Why is our acoustical antennae disoriented. Some force from the mystic beyond is unexplainable.

Words to describe the Styx as it rushes past? Groping, we search our internal thesaurus. Lost, we’re lost.

Why are we nervous, hesitant? The closer we tread to the river bank the paranormal feels close by in the reeds and on the embankment. Brushing against us, creeping Charlies cause an instant rash, a burning.

We want to know more, hear more, understand more; then why are our internals giving us messages of uncertainty and fear?

We’ve trekked for decades . Familiar values, beliefs, comforting friends, life has moved on a predictable course. Slowly the walking path to the Styx becomes less predictable. We double check our memory bank… we are losing touch with past events.. our body aches, tires, talks to us in the dark of the night. Comforting guideposts which lead us safely to the waterfalls of the Styx are less and less present.

A hiker coming away from the river asks “ Sir, can I help you?” There it is again..Others addressing me in the context of my aging face, limping gait, the shadow of a dimmed youth. The ravages of time cannot be disguised. We are indeed old.

The trail to the Styx has no place to turnaround.. no way to return to our youth. Stopping at the river’s edge comes a recognition that there is no turning back. The Styx is the carrier of the inevitability of life’s end.

We are alone. The sounds we can’t identify – we have never heard them before. We have never seen or heard the end of life’s inevitability before. God stands in mid stream. Arms outstretched. We look into the stream. Paranormal beings tell us not to step off the river bank.. Dante waits.

Clashing, thunderous sounds emerge from the river. Just beyond is a vista of peace. How do we get from point A to point B? We are alone. Our friends and family have passed on. It is just us.

Alone.

Hurry because the clouds are gathering: night is near: how long do we have?

THEIR VOICES NEVER HEARD

We pause.  The plaintiff sounds of taps

reverberate from hamlet to city center.

Misty eyes.

Somber words from podiums spoke

remembering those who laid down their lives

to preserve our freedom.

Honor guards march with precision. Jaws squared,

Flags unfurled. Polished shoes glistening.

Barbeque grills and Bud six packs wait in the wings.

Where, where are the bodies of the dead unborn?

They have no headstones. No memorials, No national

day of remembrance.

Their voices – never heard.

Their talents never used. Their service to others a blank slate.

The lifelong pain of could have been mothers is

Intentionally hidden from public view. A topic unworthy of public discourse.

A fetus is not a child..say that three times while looking in the mirror

and  without choking.

What if ..yes what if, the mothers of our nation’s bravest who

are memorialized  had decided..yes what if they had chosen

abortion over life.  Who, yes who, would fight for our freedoms?

Have an answer? Tell it to God.

SHARING YOUR FAMILY HISTORY

The winter of 1815 was particularly harsh for the leather faced pioneers establishing

homesteads around the area which is now  Great Falls Montana. Blowing, drifting snow, raw

winds,  frozen rivers all combine to make survival a problematic adventure.

From mid –October to mid April the grey laden skies hung low over the mountain tops and

along the river valley.

Settlers stored smoked meat, build drums to store vegetables, stocked potatoes in dirt floors, and

stacked cords of firewood : fire being an essential for survival.

Many days could be  very cozy, intimate, calm. Warm rooms, a pleasant, slow moving, meditative

existence.  Hours of time to spend with one’s family.

Sometimes we romanticize about the toughness of the settlers.  Their ability to survive.  But we

have no hands on concept of the fine line between life and death.  Medical care was inaccessible.  Even

if a doctor was within 10 miles, the sheer action of contacting him: then the doctor coming to your

house: having the tools to diagnose the problem and providing treatment – success was problematic.

Let your mind wander and consider complications from serious illness, broken bones, degenerative

conditions, all leading to life threatening situations.  The delivery of a child was painful – and could be

very dangerous. Home remedies and prayer were the only treatment options. 

 

Have the stories of your family’s history with its trials, tribulations successes, and victories overcoming

adversity been discussed around the fireplace in your house?

 

American history is about more than military forays,  the passage of laws of great impact, our successes

on the world stage.  Schools report that students turn up their noses at history. They are disinterested.

The connection to real time is missing according to the young learners.

Question – do we teach in terms of how people lived, survived and succeeded? Non abstracts, actual

events?

Students relate to the miraculous treatment of an accident or death in their families.  They understand

the travails of childbirth.  They don’t understand the war of 1812 or the Yalta Agreement.

The winter of 1815 in Great Falls is not a time period  that we can reconstruct. 

 

What can we learn from these settlers?  Civilizations survive ONLY if those values which enabled

them to survive are passed from generation to generation.  This means turning off the TV and

X boxes. Talking with each other face to face, eye ball to eye ball:  Discussing, agreeing

and disagreeing.  Learning from each other – not the Lindsey Lohan’s of this world.

Learning to conduct a civil discourse including honest discussions about our parents and

grandparents.

What do we stand for and believe in? 

Ask your family questions like – where did your grandparents live – why did they come to

the United States? Why are we members of the _______ Church?  Do we believe in abortion –

why or why not?  I am sure there are many questions that are close to your heart that you

would like discussed around the dinner table but never have

The point is – take the time and talk.  Help each other find out about your family, its culture

and beliefs – and share yourself with others.  These are priceless gifts.

IS THE DEATH OF A LOVED ONE AN OCCASSION FOR CELEBRATION OR GRIEF?

What a question – our immediate reaction is grief.

Lights turned off, windows shuttered, doors closed

The once vibrant house of life is quiet and vacant.

 

At that terminal moment when flowers  from the casket’s

Lid are passed to relatives, the  moment which defines

The end of our relationship with the loved one begins.

 

References to life after death, eternity, rapture have been

Repeated in the funeral service and at the gravesite.

Scripture, eulogies, holy water, all used to invoke the

celebration of life eternal.

We grow up with aspirations of heaven for ourselves and

Our loved ones.

 

Why then the conflict?

Why the tears, the bowed heads, the collapsing legs?

Shouldn’t we be celebrating?

At the gravesite there is a palpable sense of the deceased looking

down upon us with a visage of calm., contentment, even a smile.

Proud of those gathered below to say their final goodbyes.

Mourners dressed in black bow towards the dark hole in the

ground.. fear and dread .. grasping the hands of those next

How could this be happening to our loved one?

Why are we un happy that the departed has gone to a better place?

The grief, agony, pain, is about US. We are having difficulty absorbing

the loss .  A void, emptiness, regret, self recrimination.  Pain for

what we did or did not say or do reside deep in our psyches.

 

An interesting dichotomy isn’t it??

At the moment of greatest  joy when our loved one is received in heaven

we struggle to  say good bye: to assuage our souls: to express our thanks.

 

Why should life be so complicated?  Only by turning over our most raw

 emotional needs to the Lord can we move on.. and prepare our own way to

 Heaven.

 

THE VALUE OF DOING NOTHING

Space, emptiness, a void,

The endless expanse of something or nothing

A universe which grows with each new interstellar discovery

Astronomers and the Hubble add new dimensions to our

Understanding of planets millions of light years distant.

Man’s historical search to understand the world of nothingness

Continues unabated.

 

There is a joyful  symmetry to be explored, relished and celebrated.

Precise measurement and quantification are discussed.

Philosophers, mathematicians, astronomers, seers of all cultures

Burn incense, meditate in solitude, develop Cray computers.

All searching for that nebulously defined Something.

Are we searching for other planets?

Or attempting to grasp the universal meaning of “nothingness”?

 

As cycle of nothingness and everything begins at the moment of conception

And meanders universally through the life cycle for everyone – everywhere.

Human nature’s seed of purpose germinates in us always.

Determined that we have a purpose, mission and goal : Defined and quantified.

Yet the simplest of human actions, the most easily recognizable action

May be the human need for nothingness. The need to watch the clouds

Emerge and disappear, to hear the unending roar of the surf: to emulate

The playful chatter of the birds in the swamps.

Nothingness ..

the speed of going forward from day to day at 0 g forces.

Enables  us to look around, enjoy nature’s wonderments: to create music, art,

to help the less fortunate.

 

This nothingness- inner peace is given to us and celebrated  when we pass on at the end

of life.

Do nothing – let our minds wander, expand, and contribute to the world in

– we only travel this road one time.

WHAT WOULD YOU DIE FOR?

The ultimate sacrifice

Throughout history, there are gruesome, somber examples of individuals who

Have made the ultimate sacrifice.  They have given their lives for their

country,their beliefs, their family.

You know the list: Jesus Christ, Mahatma Ghandi, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther

King Jr.Etc. etc . etc. Our military personnel recently in Iraq and Afghanistan.

There are those lesser known, but celebrated fire fighters and police

who vainly tried to rescue others in the World Trade Towers terrorist attacks.

We hear of those who die trying to rescue others in Lake Michigan.

Then there is the quiet sacrifice.  Those who give up their lives in a silent

manner.

Who forsake their careers, livelihoods, and sometimes family  to be with loved

ones slowly passing away from ALS or dementia.

As we reflect on the question “ What would you die for”, the immediate

response falls into two broad categories :  1/ those of the reactive type – giving

our life in the military: pulling someone from a burning car,  putting our lives

 at risk to rescue a drowning child:  In many cases we have

the compulsive inner voice which thrusts us into harms way.  Some recoil,

back off, are afraid for one reason or another: and do not act. 

Having been mocked, and spat upon on Thanksgiving Day in a foreign land

because we are Americans, I remember the adrenalin combined with the fear

and anger at the hate filled crowd as we entered PietersKierk in Leiden, The

Netherlands.  The patriotism, the need to defend friends .. would I have given

my life?  Not forced to make the ultimate decision, I wonder what action would

I have taken if the chaos had continued? Would I have fought or ran?

How would we react?  Only being forced  into a situation can provide the

answer.

However, when asked the same question if a family member is in danger, being

 threatened, or in a perilous life situation – most of us would automatically put

ourselves at risk.  Many of us have always said we will protect our wives and c

hildren at all cost.  We would die so they survive.

 2/ the life changing type – Moving to another state or country: giving up our

 careers and lifestyles to be with an aging parent or sick child.  These decisions

have multiple permutations. 

Impact many people.  Or giving up opportunities to relocate because we feel 

close ties to relatives and community and therefore sacrifice our careers,

financial gain, personal satisfaction. Giving up a better

life for our families.

 Change what we have wanted and strived for all our lives?  Would we, in effect,

give up our lives for others?

What if the children who needed us were step children, or adoptees and we

had to make a choice between helping them and our natural children?

How do we perceive those missionaries and Doctors without Borders who give

years of their lives to help others in some of the most barren and dangerous

places on the planet?  They have made a decision to “die for others”.  Could we

 do that?

The question “ What would you die for” becomes more complex than the

obvious putting ourselves in harms way (although not excluded by a

millimeter). 

Would you die for your faith, your family, your country, a neighbor, the

needy, the poor?

THE FACE OF GOD II.

Turning left out of the men’s room   in Lakeland Hospital

Not feeling well, but coherent I looked up to see

Blonde hair flying in the hallway- no breeze- just pure power.

She wore a green hospital coat and shoes that pounded  the hallway like

hunting boots.

And no smile – it was that unspoken  glare “come with me mister – you are

not going to pass out in my hallway” .

 Want sensitivity? attention,? warm fuzzy care – forget it:

 On the gurney, take shirt off: take a deep breath and suddenly the

mash medical corps  leaps into action: needles, IV’s monitors, grim whispers.

They poked and prodded asked me over and over again about blood thinner

and smoking and drinking and pain .

Sure, turn the Badger game  on – that will mollify this short chubby 70

year old.

Not a chance.  Blood pressure too high—another tube, more sideways glances.

Monitors beeping: red lights flashing:

 I knew this was not going to be a walk in the park.

In he walked, no sauntered: tall, somewhat slovenly, kinda unshaven with that

“ I take no prisoners approach”. Pushing here, squeezing legs there, he learned

his bedside manner in the military.  Approaching  the front of the bed: face to

face: my 1^st encounter in a long time with “ The Face of God” or was this

the Face of Death”? 

Then he said it, those dreaded words – you are not going home.  The words

were simple, direct. tone declarative – forget the debate, discussion, upcoming

 client meeting – we have a room for you upstairs.

The night time was = well you may have been there: nighttime is probing, and

IV’s and medicine,

Every hour a new “ HI, my name is Sally and I am your RN for the night etc etc.

No rest, no food, a continuing monitoring and prepping for the next day’s tests.

Just let me sleep and take the chest pain away, away away.

Ultrasound, Imaging machines, stress tests, doctor’s from India, and the

Ukraine, and Poland.

All this in tiny Elkhorn.

They  smiled, and made nonsense conversation about their cats, kids, freezing

plants..

Except for the stress test technician–  soft as pudding on the inside- tough on

the outside.

Aside the tread mill was a stress  chart. I quickly calculated why all the

attention was coming my way,why all the pseudo smiling staff – they were

sincere but also very concerned. High risk is a code phrase for big time trouble.

Another imaging exam.. Then Face of God, Face of Death 2 settled into the

chair beside my bed.  I knew the family name  from our time in Poland; his age t

elegraphed that his grandparents probably escaped the death mills of Aushwitz

and Birkenbau.

Trying to engage him in conversation about Warsaw he literally turned his

back.  God, how stupid can I be? This somewhat crippled 60 plus doctor is

trying to save my life – and I just ran a scimitar into the

depths of his soul.

 Really, really clever.. shut up and listen!

Answers? No, the human body is a mystery.  A new testing procedure is

available at St Lukes,  No options,  Get on Rte 43 and head north.  Out he walked

 to save other smart ass souls.

Forms, diet sheets, flu shot, pneumonia shot and it’s time to go.  The chirpy,

nurse’s aide who is  about to complete her  academics to become an RN

brought the wheelchair for a ride to the parking lot.

Smiling she looked me in the eyes and said – “they saved you didn’t they? You

are going to be ok.”

The Face of God comes to us in wonderfully unexpected packages.

Thanks Lakeland Medical Hospital for your care and expertise.

WHEN DOES LIFE END?

The balding, punchy, bent over guy seated at the
last fish fry of Lent looked –old. No other way to phrase it-
He looked old, tired, beaten, defeated. Prosperous but defeated.
Discussion topics drowned on about physical maladies – his bad feet,
and by-pass surgeries. How he had to ride a golf cart instead of walk the
flat local course.
“ Next month I am eligible for medicare” he proudly announced.
And oh yes – he enjoys doing nothing most days since retiring.
Attempts to discuss positive events such as the Green Bay Packers
winning the Super Bowl turned to – what if they have injured players
next year and can’t repeat. It sounded like a fear of enjoying the moment:
out of a dread that something terrible might soon follow.

Armageddon is on the horizon? The grim reaper is in the next room.? The bubonic plague is returning in all its indescribable horror? Life is a video about Russian roulette.

Twenty years ago we had a similar negative tinged conversation with
this same gentleman. At that time he was “ looking forward to “retirement”.
Life was a drag. Work was a bore. And the main topic of discussion
was the awesome 45 minute to work each day. Such self-pity.

His shirt swallowing the increasing girth, jaws swollen with flesh, shoulders bowed, what happened inside the soul of this once energetic, athletic ,
successful financial executive more than 20 years ago?

As a society, we collectively marvel at those who are “mature beyond their years – those who Have the insight and perception of a  50 year old when they are 25.
A gift which many embrace and cherish.

Conversely, why do some people have the premature demeanor and attitude of agers?
Seemingly before the time of their peers? In may ways they seem to carry
the mantle of a 65 year old when they are 35 or 40. A lifetime spent missing the
many joys and opportunities of middle age. No middle age crises here – he drives a Chevy Nova.

One wonders which came 1st – physical ailments or the loss of zest for life?
What causes people to cash in their chips when in their 40’s and 50’s?
Are they happy? Is their main objective in life to hope the race ends sooner
rather than later?

Is life merely an endurance contest rather than a gift to be enjoyed during the limited time we have on this earth? We hope the days of wine and roses are more prevalent than the gray skies portending gloom and doom.

When does life end?