Warning: Political Blog Entry

We all love our pets. We all love our families (to some extent). We love our kids. Everyone has a favorite flavor ice cream and everyone has their favorite color. We all know everyone around us is different and we all know everyone has his or her own opinions on the way things should be but sometimes going from caramel swirl to Obama-care is a big jump. Or is it?

Politics are a hard game to play. For me, this is because it is not a game nor should it be played like one. I try very hard to keep an open mind in matters of a political nature and those of you who are regular readers know that I try not to influence others or coax them to side with me. But I was challenged tonight to share so here it goes. Take it with a grain of salt.

Everyone has the right to their opinion. Not everyone will agree and the majority will not always make all the right choices. But that does not mean we tear each other down for making mistakes or for making decisions the way we did. If I choose strawberry and you think peanut butter crunch would be better, you do not have the right to make me feel bad for choosing strawberry. You should feel free to highlight the benefits of the other and talk about all of peanut butter's accolades, but do not ridicule me as a person because I chose differently than you did.

Have a voice. If everyone has a right to their opinion, that opinion must not be suppressed by other opinions but at the same time, if the other is not expressed, how can we learn from one another? If you feel passionately, share your passion. But share it as your passion not as why it should be my passion. If there is an issue close to your heart, please, tell me about it and why it is important for you. But do not think that by you telling me, it will make me feel the same way as you do about it. And then be ok with that.

People make mistakes. We are flawed. So what? We learn from our past and we apply it to the future. There is no need to remind those of us that like strawberry about that one time when it melted or tasted funny. There are just as many flaws with the peanut butter crunch. And that is ok. Instead of focusing on all that has gone wrong with each others flavors, let's improve the ice cream making and be happy with the out come.

Separation of one passion from the other is not required. Here I will stop with the flavor analogy and shoot straight for a second. I love God. All other decisions about the other things I am passionate about (human rights, individual liberty, the role of a federal government in everyday life, etc.) all come from a core belief in God and the application of His word to my life. If I am asked to remove that part of me from the decision making process, I ask you try to drive without use of your eyes and see how far you get. It is only through the choice to follow Him, that I base all others.

I love to explore all sides of an issue and I will promise here and now to always vote, be open to new ideas, and never vote a straight ticket, but I will not waiver in what I believe or be swayed by the masses.

We all know "the system" is flawed. We all know that we would do things differently if it were us. Let's not berate each other in the process of coming up with solutions. Instead we should work harder at finding answers, help those around us, love one another, and live our lives to the fullest. In the end it is the difference we make in the lives of those around us that really matters. Let's not focus on what we can't change and change the lives of those we can at home, work, and only sometimes through politics.

A Love Story

She was a curly haired, freckle face and she was the it girl of my third grade class. You know the one I am referring to. There is one in every class and if you are a woman reading this and you don't know what I'm talking about, then it was you. Walking into class with your pony-under-a-waterfall trapper keeper lighting the whole room with your smile and leading the other giggly girls around the playground as though you were some sort of enchantress. She was all of that.

And me? I was always the shy kid. The one that sat in the middle of the room because I knew the back got too much attention. I just wanted to blend in and not be noticed and I had never wanted to befriend anyone in my class until she came along. I desperately wanted to make the impression and that year I knew just how I was going to do it. In the most romantic way I knew how; I would give her a valentine.

When the thought came to me I knew right away it had to be something special. No paper cut out with a picture of a muppet and her name on the back would be good enough so I began saving every penny I earned. The day before Valentines day, I was at the grocery store with my mom and there it was, the solution to all my problems, the heart shaped box of chocolate. With all the money I had, I bought that little four piece box and a proud smile grew across my face. How could she refuse this amazing act of romance? She will be my valentine for sure!

The next morning, I got to class early and slid the heart shaped symbol of my affection into her crudely decorated shoe box and waited patiently for her to find it and then, of course, fall helplessly in love with me. She walked in a few minutes later, took off her coat, and sat down to see what her classmate had given her. She removed the lid and a grin appeared. I was in! She stealthily scanned the room to see if anyone was watching her and our eyes met. This was it! I knew it would be wonderful between us from here on out. And then he came in.

He was the kid no one wanted to be partners with on a project. He had a silly way about making himself stand out in a crowd that I appalled. He was constantly the butt of jokes around the lunch table for being the short round kid in class and wearing a yamaka in third grade doesn't help you keep a low profile. It wasn't that he was Jewish that was the turn off. It was his knowledge of the presidents. He had for some reason memorized all the presidents and their terms and in random points in any conversation, he would cut you off and challenge you to a presidential trivia contest. Who wants anything to do with that?

On this particular Valentine's day, after I had thought everything was going according to plan, he walks in with a cut out spiderman card for her taped to an entire bag of Kisses. He handed her the bag and that was all she wrote. A few weeks after that, our class was split due to teacher student ratio and I only ever saw her at recess and she never saw me again because I was, to her, invisible. Not only was I lacking in the chocolate department but apparently a vast knowledge of in depth, useless presidential facts are a must for the modern woman.

Zachary Taylor was the twelfth president and was the last president to own slaves while holding the office.


Happy Valentine's Day.

Due To Marriage

Several people have asked if I believe in marriage after everything I have been through. And I suppose the answer they are expecting to hear allows them a second to breathe a sigh of relief as they reflect on their own situation. Some people, when hearing of my divorce, will automatically switch gears in their conversations when I walk by just to be sure I hear them trash marriage. I assume this is to make me feel better.

I started watching this TV show a few weeks ago and thought I recognized one of the actresses from something else she had been in. Like a good nerd would do, I immediately looked her up on IMDB and Wikipedia. In one of the notes I read, it mentioned that she had recently been replaced on the show by another actress "due to marriage". I read the description again; "due to marriage". It was written as though she had been struck by some incurable disease and that this terminal illness had come upon her without her consent and was relentlessly choking her career to lifelessness.

Marriage is not a deadly disease or something that the unfortunate come down with against their will. It does not sneak up on the simple minded and squeeze the life out of the afflicted.

It is not something to be looked down on or trashed. Those that are married should not be looked upon with pity but esteem. We should raise them up and celebrate with them because they have accomplished what so few are able to in this time. Being married is not only a choice that both have made to each other but it is a commitment that takes work, daily forgiveness, and the kind of love that many never experience.

I do not feel bad for those who are married, I envy them. They have something I once thought belonged to be. Something I thought I had the strength and maturity for. They are my hope for another chance at not just true love but real love.

Yes, I still believe in marriage.