Aug 6, 2023 | Best Articles, Health
My too kind and loving wife said that it is the holiday season, and I should be happy. My first reaction was to say bah-humbug mind your own business.
There is a good deal of pressure in America to be happy. If you are not happy, then by golly you better get happy. If you must, go see a counselor, advisor, life coach, therapist, or take a happy pill. Do something, but don’t sit around being unhappy, unless doing that makes you happy.
I mean for reals, America was founded upon the principle of happy. The Declaration of Independence clearly ranks happiness up there with packing guns and 27 other complaints against King George III. Thomas Jefferson wrote “they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
However, it is important that we understand that we are not entitled to happiness, only the pursuit thereof. So, if you are an American there is a certain amount of pressure to be happy or at least pursing it. We went to war and gained our independence just so we could pursue happiness.
But what if you are inherently moody, grumpy, mean, ornery, or chemically imbalanced? I am probably all of these at the same time; certainly, some of my friends and relatives are. My too kind and loving wife never is; she is either happy or very happy…or taking a nap…which makes her happy.
Adding to this problem is that everyone has a different definition of happy. The last self-help book I read, and I have read them all, told me that I wasn’t really happy, that I only thought I was happy. That didn’t make me happy. But that got me thinking if I think I am happy but I am not, why couldn’t I be unhappy but really I am happy.
In 1964 Harvey Ross Ball invented the “Smiley Face”. First, with a name like that how could he be happy? He invented the smiley face for an insurance company and was only paid $45 dollars for it; that is all he ever received for it. I’ll bet that didn’t make him happy. The Smiley Face puts pressure on us to be happy. There it is staring at us, taunting us, demanding that we be happy. Don’t worry be happy. Worrying is one of my strengths. I am pretty good at guilt too. I worry about things that can never happen. Sometimes I even combine them because I feel guilty for worrying.
Think of all the famous smiles. According to one art historian the coy Mona Lisa smile represents a, “visual representation of the idea of happiness.” And what about Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire Cat, in the book Alice In Wonderland; the last thing that disappears is the cat’s smile; don’t you find that odd?
How can I be happy. As soon as I retired my retirement lost all my money. Honestly, I couldn’t make an omelet with my nest egg now. I am trying to get my too kind and loving wife a newspaper route, so I don’t have to go back to writing for money. It makes me feel so yucky.
I told my too kind and loving wife that I wasn’t happy because COVID ruined everything, inflation has made it so I can’t afford my Pepsi, social security is going broke, the housing market has collapsed, and the only happy people are the CEO crooks that get raises for laying off the workers.
They have done studies and people that use metrics (they are probably not happy because they are studying metrics) have come up with enough statistics to show what happy people do and where they live. One of the happiest places in the world is the Netherlands. I point out that prostitution and marijuana are both legal there; but I do not offer any opinion as to whether there is a cause-and-effect relationship.
So here I am trying to be happy. I think I am one of those people that can’t be really happy unless I am unhappy. This is probably left-over trauma from teachers yelling “wipe that smile off your face Mr. Torres”. My entire upbringing was that way; if it feels good, stop it. If it tastes good, don’t eat it. If you’re having too much fun quit it, remember all the suffering in Paraguay. So, I am conflicted…I want to feel happy I would even like to feel merry, you know with Christmas and all.
I decided I need some help. Google tells me to stop chasing happiness because too many people connect happiness to the achievement of certain goals or aspirations and that I should practice looking inwards…build my self-esteem…and be present.
I decided it was time for a change so I decided to do something about it. I wasn’t sure how to look inward, so I looked in my belly button and found a Cheeto. That seemed like a good start. Then I bought myself a present, scratched through all my goals and aspirations like exercise and reading a book a week, and I quit chasing happiness by taking a nap in my big, overstuffed chair. Happiness can just find me but I hope she doesn’t wake me from my nap.
Aug 6, 2023 | Best Articles
Every eleven minutes someone dies by suicide, even more alarming is that two people attempt suicide every minute. Statistics don’t put a human face to the pain of those that suffer from depression resulting in suicide and for those that are left to unravel the questions and deal with the guilt.
So, what can we do? How do we reach out in a meaningful way and let them know they are not alone? How can we show them that we value them, and understand them, and help them get professional help when they need it (https://safeut.org)?
There is a greeting in South Africa that the Zulu use. It is a word for hello but with a much broader deeper meaning. Sawubona means “I see you.” Sawubona conveys the idea of seeing someone beyond the physical. It means understanding who they are. Saying “Sawubona” to someone indicates that you get what they are going through. It conveys that you not only understand how they feel but who they are. Upon meeting them when you say “sawubona” you are essentially telling them they are important…and I see you. More than a greeting, sawubona carries the importance of recognizing the worth and dignity of each person.
When you have lost someone to suicide you hope that time will heal things. Time does make the pain softer, the “daily-ness” of grief is less intense, but trying to understand how someone can hurt so bad that suicide seemed like their best path forward is an ongoing painful journey. But the hurt and confusion and how much you miss the person that is gone, never leave, soften, or go away. Spend too much time by yourself and your mind finds dark places to go and soon anguish and hurt engulf you like a heavy cloak. “Hello darkness my old friend. I’ve come to talk to you again.” Nothing makes sense.
There is no single cause for depression nor are the symptoms or signs easy to see or detect. Often people hide in plain sight, they can hide behind smiles, politeness, social convention, routines, over dedication to work or play, and hollow laughter. Generally, we are not trained to recognize the symptoms.
As we live vicariously through social media, often we are so detached that we believe their public facing overachieving happy Facebook lives. We don’t want to get involved in a complicated painful discussion, so we take people at face value when they say they are doing fine. How do we know when they are not? How do we practice the spirit of sawubona?
Depression doesn’t always lead to suicide but sometimes the dark hole they find themselves in is so daunting that they convince themselves that people would be better off without them.
Of course, depression and suicide cross all racial, social, and gender groups. The seemingly most successful people are as likely as any of us to suffer. Brilliant people like Robin Williams won every award and accolade a comedian/actor could aspire to. He made us all laugh and forget our problems, but he fought demons only he could see and eventually he took his own life.
Let me tell you about Tanner. He took his life five days before his 23rd birthday. He was such a kind, bigger than life kid with green mischievous eyes. He was dating the love of his life and adored by family and friends. He had been a star athlete, played collegiate ball and seemingly had it all. Yet one cold and dark day he ended his life. His parents are dear friends and even now 11 years later they miss him every day and wonder what they missed, what they could have done differently. Their pain of him not being there is as big as the Grand Canyon. His sister said, “There are so many things I want to ask him, show him, and tell him.” Nothing will ever fill the void. No parent should ever have to bury their child.
The saddest of all phrases for man is “It might have been.” A life cut short begs the question of what might have been. Which of life’s choice experiences would he have been able to enjoy and given him purpose and a reason to live?
Now that I am older, I would tell young people struggling with depression, to give it a few more days…a few more years. Nothing you have done in your short life is so bad that you can’t move forward and find beautiful sunrises, fall in love, feel the warmth of the sun, and stand in awe of the Milky Way, and realize there are reasons that will make all the struggles worth it.
Life won’t be stress free and your struggles, worries and anxieties are real. But cling to life. Give life a chance. Life is messy and confusing at times; but good eventually wins. Mistakes, unsure feelings, confusion, darkness, depression, and anxiety can be within your ability to deal with. Reach out to friends and loved ones, get professional help.
Given a few more years of experience and you will see that life is still worth it. Give yourself the chance to know that what you see today as insurmountable will be possible in a future better stronger version of yourself. People love you as you are.
The older I get, the more I understand that having people you love and care for is paid for by hard work and worry. If your child is two days old or twenty you worry about them. Later, you start to worry about your grandkids. It is hard because it matters to you. You worry because you are the parents and there is no one more committed, more hopeful, prouder, or more worried because you want to be there for them.
You never want them to feel alone in the dark. Your heart breaks when they suffer, whether it was because of poor choices or natural calamity. You want to help them at every stage, you want to give them good advice, you want them to know how much you love them. Incredibly even though you worry and pray and hope for them as life rages on around them you would still choose your role as their parent, you would still choose them, you would do anything for them. You never want to let them go, you just want to hold them and love them.
Often when people are depressed, they feel isolated, alone, and in a dark place. Sometimes it’s hard for them to remember our love. It is so important that you keep telling them and showing them your love is unconditional.
Perhaps if we all practice the concept of sawubona, and not just one person, but fifty people greet them with love and respect and we say “I see you” then collectively our village will provide a bright enough light to pierce the darkest places in the mind of those that suffer depression.
Another young friend, Joey, has had his own battles with depression. As you read his journal it cries for understanding and help. “All of the failures, the mistakes, bad memories, and the heartbreaks could be gone in just a few moments or less. But how sad I would leave everyone who cares for me. Maybe hang on for another day or two. What is joy without sorrow? What is the past without tomorrow.” Perhaps on his darkest day a friend or stranger greeted him with the spirit of sawubona…you are important and I see you…I recognize your dignity and worth.
Joey struggled with his own demons but offered this advice. “Learn to mourn with those that mourn. Don’t try to give them a pep-talk. Don’t try to fix it. Don’t ignore them. The important thing is to listen. You must listen and be present and “mourn with those that mourn.”
We can’t really connect with them by responding with a meme or a thumbs up on Facebook. To have connection we must be engaged, listen, and understand.
Luckily Joey found a lifeline that day and now has a sense of purpose raising awareness for suicide prevention. He is working on a project to combine music and video and spreading the word that we the little people of the world can make a difference.
This is a call to action, we must practice sawubona and connect with people around us. Let’s commit this day to learn to listen with our hearts and really “mourn with those that mourn”. Sometimes we are uncomfortable because we don’t know what to say. Well then, take them a plate of cookies, smile, and greet them with a sincere salutation of “sawubona”…I see you, I value you, I respect you.
If you want to help Joey on his project go to (https://gofund.me/9a77cd20) or scan the QR code.
Jul 30, 2023 | Best Articles, Most Visited Articles
This is my second day in Tonga. I am here on a humanitarian mission and to teach people how to be resilient. I would like to share with you my first lesson.
We met a man and his wife. His name was Mosese Sa’afi. He was an eyewitness to the largest volcano recorded. He and his wife talked with us about losing their home when the volcano erupted and caused a tsunami. He did most of the talking, his wife mostly held his arm and wept quietly as he told their story. On January 15, 2022 at 5:10 p.m. he heard a loud sonic boom and saw a small plume rise above the blue ocean. Soon, other deafening sonic booms shook the air and a plume of ash rose 36 miles into the air. Unbeknownst to Mosese, the first sonic boom sent waves that would soon crash into his island and destroy his home and all the other homes along the beaches of this seemingly serine paradise island. Near the shoreline there is nothing left but sand, any evidence of human occupation was washed out to sea.
“I saw a large wave coming very fast and I tried to tell the people to get to higher ground that the wave didn’t look right. I have seen waves like this before, but the people didn’t listen. A few went toward the ocean to look. My neighbor grabbed her mother and aunt and held their hands, she tried to get them to move, but they are old. The water drug them under the house (built on stilts) and they got separated. After the water rushed back, she moved to higher ground because there were more waves coming. She wasn’t strong enough, they got separated, her mother survived, but her aunt did not.”
He told how he heard several large blasts as the volcano erupted and the volcano pushed up 2.4 cubic miles of rock, ash, and sediment. This great plume of smoke and ash rose 36 miles into the air and darkened the skies until the sun was blotted out. Astronauts in the International Space Station could see the plume rising into the sky. It was the largest recorded volcanic eruption, even larger than the history making Krakatoa eruption of 1883 that killed over 36,000 people and could be heard 1900 miles away.
The eruption sent a tsunami racing around the world and a sonic blast that circled the earth four times. In addition to the smoke and ash, the volcano pushed up enough water to affect the earth’s average global temperature. The amount of water increased the water in the earth’s atmosphere by 10%, about 60,000 Olympic size swimming pools. Volcanoes seldom push up water into the atmosphere, Tonga was unique because of the shape and depth of the bowl-shaped cauldron and shallow water.
It would be hard to imagine a sound this loud since the earth’s atmosphere can only sustain 194 decibels (loudest sound possible in air) which was what was recorded; loud enough to break ear drums. Nearly 40 miles away A British ship captain reported that half of his crew had shattered ear drums and he wrote, “My last thoughts are with my dear wife. I am convinced that the Day of Judgment has come.” The sonic boom was heard 6000 miles away in Alaska. The sound was the loudest sound on earth since 1883 and the Krakatau volcano. Mosese and many of the simple faithful natives thought it was the end of the world as the sky was darkened and wave after wave inundated the island as the tsunami rushed inland. Mosese said, “I climbed to the top of the hill. It looked like the end of the world. Soon I couldn’t breathe. I thought Jesus was coming. I wasn’t scared. I was worried for my people.”
The deafening noise, ash falling blotting out the afternoon sun, and the tsunami were not all that occurred. During the peak of the blast volcanoes create their own weather system and an astonishing lightning storm ensued. Space satellites recorded over 2600 lightning strikes a minute inside the volcanic plume. It was estimated that nearly 200,000 lightning strikes lit up the sky over an eleven-hour period.
For comparison look at the description found in the scriptures. “And it came to pass that I saw a mist of darkness on the face of the land of promise; and I saw lightnings, and I heard thunderings, and earthquakes, and all manner of tumultuous noises; and I saw the earth and the rocks, that they rent; and I saw mountains tumbling into pieces; and I saw the plains of the earth, that they were broken up; and I saw many cities that they were sunk; and I saw many that they were burned with fire; and I saw many that did tumble to the earth, because of the quaking thereof.”
It is hard to overstate how terrified and life changing an event like this would be. Mosese told me, “We can’t get help from the government because his house was built on his wife’s land (via her brother) and in, Tonga women cannot own land.” So, they are rebuilding adjacent homes but not his. He now lives in a small shanty that his brother-in-law owns. He lost all his earthly possessions. His wife’s tears flow easily as she relives the nightmare that her husband tells.
He talks with gratitude in his heart that he and his wife are alive to try again, he wants to build a small house again, he wants to live again and grow his garden again and catch fish from the ocean again.
I didn’t teach the first lesson; I was the student. Mosese taught me today that man is resilient. Our ability to keep living and keep trying is astonishing to me. I have nothing to teach a man such as Mosese who lost everything but his faith; but he has taught me many lessons this day. I go away after listening to his story and I am more grateful for what I have. My love is more deep and sincere for those that are dear to me. Be generous with our material possessions; they really aren’t worth as much as we think. Many out there who suffer in secret practice being resilient just by waking up and trying again. So be kind and listen to our neighbor’s story with an open heart; maybe we can serve those less fortunate.
Jul 30, 2023 | Best Articles
It is a sunny Wednesday morning, and I am boarding a 1948 Cessna 170 with my too kind and loving wife and a friend. He doesn’t like a lot of attention, so we will just call him Dakodta. First thing that comes to mind is that a 1948 plane is 75 years old, which is way older than me and trust me when I tell you, not all my parts work anymore. They also don’t make replacement parts for things as old as me or our plane. So, I start asking some questions, like “Dude. Are you crazy?”
My too kind and loving wife elbows me when she sees the old plane coming out from around behind the hangar. “Oh my! We probably shouldn’t do this…”
I restored a 1957 Chev Belair and so I know just how hard it is to find parts for old things and old people. And today, few people know anything about engines that don’t have a computer to tell them what is wrong. And I have a brand-new lawn mower that only starts every other time and I think it and the plane have the same size of engine. So, I usually like to panic first and get the facts later and have become so good at doing this some might think it is my superpower.
Hmmmm. I am not in complete panic yet, but my heart rate is probably faster than my doctor likes it to be. My pilot kicks the tires and says, “Oh don’t worry she’s got a few good flights left in her…probably.” One thing for sure, every knob and latch is necessary, utilitarian, and does not require a computer chip to operate. There are no warning lights; but there is a sticker that says, “If you can read this you are upside down.” Bush pilot humor I suppose.
These machines were built when the pilot had a vested interest in making sure the airplane kept working. There is no mindless computer giving you false assurances that everything is working fine. I am certain there is no calm female voice that says, “recalculating” when you see a mountain goat in your front windshield and you turn to the co-pilot and say, “What is that mountain goat doing up here in the clouds?” I don’t trust computers; just think how many times you have had to turn your computer off and on to magically get it to work.
And it doesn’t give me any confidence that I am in the co-pilot seat. If it comes down to me trying to save the day like in the movies, there is not going to be a sequel. Besides, I can’t believe he would let me near so many buttons, any one of which, could kill us. This may be the hardest trial of self-control I have ever had. I always want to know how to operate machines and my curiosity is legendary…so is my stupidity. I am that guy that when my too kind and loving wife says, “We probably shouldn’t do this…” I immediately want to do that very thing. I have no self-control. If a button says do not push, I always want to know what happens if I do. I am almost certain my too kind and loving wife is ready to smack me from the back seat if I so much as move towards the control panel. She hands me a fidget spinner hoping to keep my attention elsewhere.
We are off to see some of San Juan County from the air and we head south from Blanding towards Comb Ridge and Goose Neck State Park. I know I am always trying to explain to non-locals just how magnificent this county is, but this view has left me speechless, an event my too kind and loving wife is sure will coincide with the start of the millennia.
The real challenge is to capture the scale of the landscape and the jaw dropping beauty in every rock formation. Certainly, the Creator was at his best when he worked on San Juan County. From Monument Valley to Valley of the Gods and up around Bears Ears I am snapping pictures as quickly as I can. You can see clearly why it took so long for the pioneers to walk from Escalante to Bluff. There is no single stretch of land longer than a quarter mile that isn’t cut by deep canyons, staggering vertical cliff faces, and dry washes.
If someone wanted to create a boarder wall that says KEEP OUT, I think something like Comb Ridge would do the trick. It is a monocline roughly 120 miles long, has 400’ vertical walls, and goes from the Abajo mountains to Laguana Creek near Kayenta AZ.
But to the pioneer’s credit they kept moving slowly forward. If they had the advantage of an ariel view, they probably would never have attempted such a crazy route. Back then Google Maps consisted of a fir trapper and an elderly Ute man that pretty much told the pioneers they had been out in the sun too long and there were easier ways to die.
Our antique plane made the trip even more delightful, “Oh my! We probably shouldn’t do this,” had turned into that, “Oh my! I am going to miss this place when we are in Tonga.” I am once again grateful for good people, inspiring scenery and the chance to explore San Juan County.
Jul 30, 2023 | Best Articles
I am literally standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona, and it is such a fine site to see. There is a girl my Lord, who I happened to be married to and she is not in a flatbed Ford, but is slowin down to take a look at me. Mostly, she is rolling her eyes as I insist on getting a picture with the statue of Glenn Frey of the Eagles.
And now my too kind and loving wife and I are on another adventure, and we are standing in another line at the train depot in Green River Utah, which may be as lonely as the loneliest road in America. This line is shorter, in fact we are the only people in the line. As far as I could see in any direction the train tracks were disappearing into a horizon that goes forever.
Since I retired, I seemed to be standing in a lot of lines in lots of lonely places. Standing in lines doesn’t bother me as much as it used to because it gives me time to listen to my song list that seems to be stuck in my brain. I can’t remember my too kind and loving wife’s name, but I can recite every word in the eight verses of Hotel California. Hmmm.
That’s why I call her my too kind and loving wife, because well it gets awkward when I call her by someone else’s name.
I have driven the loneliest road in America, Highway 50 from Delta UT through Nevada. The only thing I really ran into, or more accurately ran over, were Mormon crickets…millions of them. The black paved road was dyed red covered by red bug guts.
But now, we are going ride the train from Green River to Glenwood Springs to sit in the mineral hot springs, contemplate life, and eat our way across America…again.
I have read Harry Potter too many times so I keep looking for Platform 9-3/4 at Kings Cross Station because stepping into a world as strange as Hogwarts would be no less strange as standing at a lonely train platform in Green River. I find a “you are here” sign and go check it out because, well frankly, I would like to know where I am. I study the sign for a minute, but it doesn’t help me understand where I am and why I feel like I stepped back in time.
I am reminded of the bumper sticker that says, “All that wander are not lost.” But at this particular moment, I feel lost. And I wonder why I wander so much. My too kind and loving wife thinks my passion for adventure has gone past a healthy hobby and is closer to an obsession and my inability to sit still might be helped with chemicals.
You can tell when you are getting old because everywhere you go you hear old songs in your head. I am listening to an old folk song, “The City of New Orleans” that rambles on about a train that, “Rolls along past houses, farms and fields…and graveyards of rusted automobiles.”
As the real train approaches, we can hear the whistle and feel the rumble. Soon the conductor is asking for our tickets and showing us to our seats. The words from the song are like a prophecy as we chug along parallel to I-70 and along the Book Cliffs. Just past Grand Junction we see how big the Colorado River really is and start to see run down houses and farms and old cars strung along as reminders of better times and abandoned hopes and dreams.
The train is always an adventure. This trip is our way of experiencing a mode of travel time forgot and to see another part of the Colorado Plateau. We get into the rail car and the smell is ripe with sweat, body odor and day-old sushi; it reminds me of a turkey farm in June, a stock yard in July, and a pig farm in August. When we get settled in our seats, my wife snuggles up and sniffs me. I resent this, but she just wanted to make sure it wasn’t me that smelled like a pig farm in August. Either I don’t smell or her love for me is more than a farmer has for his baby piglet.
We find our seats and there is plenty of room. The person in front of us did not wake up during the stop and is snoring and drooling without a care in the world. The man to our side has one sock on and one sock off and laying sideways so as to take up two seats. He too does not appear to have moved during our boarding the train and for a moment I am not sure if he is dead asleep or just dead. But I am not even remotely tempted to try and rouse him without rubber gloves.
Both trips were off the beaten path, but well worth it. Standing on a corner or at a train depot doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. I suppose it makes others a little nervous that I am always singing old songs and have a faraway look in my eyes.
