I got this little story via email the other day. It’s one of those that people forward, and you may already have gotten it. But it has a good message, and makes me glad I’m a “country boy”. I thought it was worth sharing for Thanksgiving…

One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people live. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family. On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, “How was the trip?” ” It was great, Dad.”

I saw a bit on the news the other night about homeless children in the Jefferson County (Louisville) school system. According to the story, there are more than 4,000 homeless children attending middle and elementary schools in Louisville this year. Most of these children live in homeless shelters with their parents. One was quoted as saying he felt like a 30 year-old in a 10 year-old body.

As sad as those circumstances are, what is more disheartening is that the Commonwealth of Kentucky only allocated $80,000 to the school system for educating these kids. For those avoiding the math, that’s roughly $20 per child. For a year.

It’s pathetic that, while we are sending more than $850 BILLION in aid to Iraq, we can’t find more than $80,000 for 4,000 homeless children here at home. Especially considering Kentucky’s Lt. Governor (Steve Henry) is paid more than $90,000 a year, has a full staff, and gets his home and car supplied by the state. But he’s important, right? Not if you consider he has no appointed duties.

Seems strange, huh? Shouldn’t our first responsibility as Americans be to our own children?

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Recently there has been a lot (excuse me…a LOT) of attention in the media to the whole Jessica Lynch thing. It seems you can barely turn on the tube these days without it being the subject of a news segment, prime-time show, or even movie of the week.

Now don’t get me wrong — I am not trying to take anything away from the soldier and the horrible experience she had of being ambushed, losing half of her team, and being held prisoner of war. It’s not an experience I’d ever want to be subjected to or would even wish upon my worst enemy.

Unfortunately, I’m beginning to think the tail is wagging the dog. This story is being so blown up by the media that we are subjected to it probably more than most care to hear. It has nearly reached legendary proportions. Words and deeds surrounding the incident are now being fabricated for the sake of the story.

While there are certainly things we know without question about the events surrounding PFC Lynch’s capture and rescue, there are equally as many details we do NOT know about her captivity. Our thirst (or more appropriately, the media’s thirst) for the story is now transcending good journalism by substituting unknown details with fiction. Sometimes a book is just not as shiny as the cover by which it’s bound.

This Veteran’s Day, we should stop trying so hard to find the “heros of today”. Their amazing stories will present themselves in time and receive proper attention when warranted. No matter how many “new details” are released, Private Lynch is NOT Private Ryan. The media should stop trying to force a movie out of what should remain a news segment.

Never forget this — for every modern day tale of bravery fed to us by the media, there is the nearly-forgotten story of men like Reuben Law. Perhaps he should get the front page while he’s still around to be appreciated.

Veterans…
I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom. –Abraham Lincoln

I was watching “Malcolm in the Middle” the other night and was really struck by something one of the characters said. Dewey (who is the youngest of the three brothers) was speaking to a Bible study teacher about how tired he was of his oldest brother Reese being “too nice” since he started attending the study. Dewey was pointing out that he generally thought Bible Study was foolish. This was his reasoning, and what made me think:

Like Pastor Roy said, how God is so much bigger and wiser than us, and trying to see what He’s thinking would be like an ant trying to see what I’m thinking. Like me with the anthill in my backyard. I spent days watching the ants, trying to figure out which ones were good, and which ones were bad, but they all just looked like ants, so I started smiting all of them. I was smiting them with the garden hose, and with lighter fluid, and with the lawnmower, and to be perfectly honest, I think I went a little crazy with the shovel. Those ants could have been praying to me all day, I wouldn’t have heard them. *ponders* There was nothing they could do about it. Really, it’s the same with us. There’s nothing we can do about anything either, so why worry about it? I guess all we can do is live our lives with as much kindness and decency as possible, and try not to dwell on God standing over us with a giant shovel.

That’s pretty profound when you think about it. We do spend a lot of time worrying about things like the ozone layer, natural disasters, terrorism, etc. In truth, if God wants to swing his shovel, he will - there’s little we can do to stop it. All you can do is be the best person possible and try not to dwell on things over which you have little control. Not too shabby of a message for a show that’s supposed to just be a comedy.

Today is my 31st birthday, and I feel old. Well, maybe not OLD, but older.

When I turned 30 last year, I didn’t really feel much different than when I was 29. I justified that I was “just out of my 20s”, and thus really wasn’t any older than before, other than by definition.

But this year, I am no longer on the fringe. I am officially “into my 30s”. My music collection is largely out of date, and I now find myself regularly wearing tennis shoes with Khaki’s (but only while doing yardwork!). At the risk of supplying too much information, I don’t sleep as well at night and I’m gassy when I wake up. My joints sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies, and I’m sitting here drinking coffee at 5pm as I write.

I don’t know if this is old age, but I intend to fight it. I’ve retrieved my 1994 Rock Mix cassette from the depths of my entertainment center, and I think I’ll go for a bike ride this weekend or play some basketball. Maybe I’ll even work on my tan!

Or maybe I’ll just pull on my khaki’s and sneakers and work in the yard. And when I’m not doing that, I’ll spend some time with my baby girl. Perhaps aging isn’t such a bad thing. After all, if cheese and wine can get better with age, then why not me?

Emily just called and told me that our daughter has a fever of nearly 102�. For some reason, that really scares me. While I realize that millions of kids have fevers every day of every year and end up okay, this is different. This one is mine. And I can’t do anything about it.

Since our daughter goes to daycare, I’ve been sick more this summer than I can recall having been in a long time. Funny things, these fevers and colds. One little bug, passed from person to person, can take you down just like that. We can inscribe the 10 Commandments on the head of a pin. We can invent devices for sending text from here to Japan. I can sit at my computer and type these words and you can read them from the comfort of your home. Our medical and technological miracles are numerous - but we can’t eradicate a little bug that has been around since the dawn of mankind.

If you don’t believe in God, then there’s your proof. Some things were meant to survive, some things weren’t. Where will you be in 10,000 years?

A long time ago, people had time to just sit around and think. And they had peaceful, quiet places to go. No tv, computers, radio, or traffic noise. Just interesting new stuff to ponder.

Today there are too many distractions. I can’t think at home - there’s too much to do. I can’t think at work - even more to do. And I can’t think in the car - I have to watch where I’m going! No matter where I am, there seem to be too many other and more pressing distractions.

I’d like to go back to the old days. Maybe I’d take a tall glass of iced tea and sit on the rocker of my front porch for a few hours each night. I’d watch the leaves blow through the high trees and I’d ponder whatever crossed my mind. Surely I’d accomplish some great thought.

I’m guessing that the likes of Mark Twain and Will Rogers will likely never be seen again.