In God We Trust...

In God We Trust. Should this and other religious references be removed from public places? The role of faith in the culture of the United States is a worthy topic and should be discussed openly and deeply. Unfortunately, the dialog I've been hearing isn't about any of that. It's not even about whether God is even relevant in the modern world. It's just another version of the tired old argument about whose interpretation of God's impact (or lack thereof) on daily life should be memorialized.

It's a religious war masquerading as political discourse, Social Correctness masquerading as The Greater Good. Here's the problem: like it or not, our forefathers all agreed that a higher power was at work in the universe. They also agreed that it would be destructive to the common good to allow any one of the many ways of acknowledging that power to make laws affecting people who embrace the other ways of acknowledgement. The belief that God was at work guiding the hands and hearts of our founding fathers and the recognition that there are many conflicting ways of acknowledging that belief are historical facts, and regardless of whether more recent developments in science or theology have altered peoples' understanding, those beliefs are part and parcel of our culture. I don't know anyone who thinks the face of Zeus should be removed from Greek coins just because he's been replaced by some entity with a Christian name. "In God We Trust" isn't a directive to modern man, it is an expression of part of the belief structure that is our history.

The United States of America came into being during a time where Christianity was rampant in the Western world and belief in a higher power was universal. To remove expressions of that belief from our historical institutions is a crime against honesty. But to try and force one way of acknowledging whatever faith a person may embrace by neutralizing all of them is a bigger crime because it seeks to erase rather than embrace the diversity we all talk loud and long about desiring. How diverse is a culture that can't embrace its own history, let alone its friends and neighbors' right to whatever expression of faith (or lack thereof) they choose?

Diversity is hard. It requires much attention and tolerance from everyone, not just those outside the status quo, and gold is where you find it. Here's one of the principles I learned back when I was a Boy Scout (another much-maligned organization):

A Scout is Friendly.
A Scout is a friend to all. He is a brother to other Scouts. He offers his friendship to people of all races and nations, and respects them even if their beliefs and customs are different from his own.

We don't need God carved on everything and we don't need God to be removed from anything. We just need to start being FRIENDLY again.

OK. I'm Done.

Peace,
Robert

Opening Day

Hello and welcome.

Wow. Choosing that simple greeting to open this blog was hard. I mean REALLY hard. Harder than I anticipated. Harder than asking that really special girl to dance, harder than a first kiss, harder than Chinese algebra, even harder than saying "I do" when asked "Who gives this woman?" and it's my little girl they're talking about. But I did it, and by golly, now I'm in the fray. Ahead lies a great body of work, archived and waiting for my children or grandchildren to publish in a book, thus guaranteeing my immortality, forever indexed in the great Dewey Decimal System and guarded by that eternal phalanx of attendant librarians. The journey has begun and will continue until it's over, assuming I don't get flattened by a careening truckload of nothing to say, trampled by stage fright, muted by some dread disease or worst of all, ignored along the way. I'll let you know how that's working as I figure it out myself.


About the name

I've always been amazed by fireflies. I grew up in the Rockies west of Denver, 7500 ft. above sea level, where it's too high or cold or too something for fireflies, so I didn't actually see one in person until the summer I went to Kansas. Summer evenings in eastern Kansas are warm and smell like dry grass and alfalfa and the sky's so big you can feel the earth turning underneath you. I was 15 and away from home for the first time, sitting on the front lawn of the dormitory and watching the sun set behind the impossibly tall antenna of the Kansas University radio station when out of the corner of my eye I could swear I saw a little light flash in the grass. As the evening got darker I saw more and more of the little white lights until every time I moved hundreds of them winked and flickered in waves through the grass like the Aurora Borealis, except small.

I was startling the fireflies.

I spent countless perfect evenings that summer on the lawn, watching the little creatures doing whatever it was they were doing, fascinated by their beautiful white light and how they made it without even getting warm. Some woodshedding in the Science section of the University library eventually led me to understand the chemistry of light, photons, excited atoms and what-not, but even science couldn't alter the wonder of that discovery, and it stayed with me, unchanged.

It's possible to make light without making heat.


NOTE: Every now and then you may catch me posting something that makes good heat but sheds no light. For those of you who do: Be direct. Be unvarnished. Call me on it. I've got broad shoulders. Go ahead. Take your best shot...


3... 2... 1...

So there you have it. I made it off of the launch pad in one metaphorical piece, so I'm going to declare this blog open for business. Don't worry -- the format'll improve, and actual topics are already starting to jostle for attention, so check back in a couple of days and see how I'm doing. Until then,

Peace,
Robert