Must I Vote?

It has been several years since I felt really good about the presidential election. Why is that? Must I vote?

Each four years both major candidates are probably good and decent, by current  standards. Every once in a while one breaks the mold, but generally these are people who have given their lives in public service. We should respect and honor such folk. We need more of them. 

One of my litmus tests for a President is that they be a good example to children. When my kids were little I wanted them to be able to look at Reagan, or Bush I or Clinton or Bush II as people they should be like. Not that they would agree with all their policies. More as like a father figure to the nation. A man of honor, trustworthy, loyal to America, faithful, credible, devout. 

I  still hold to this standard. I don't think it is a particularly high or unfair standard. I'd like a President that is an example to my granddaughters and grandsons on what a good man is like. One that reinforces the example of their own fathers, and not one that contradicts that example.  

Years ago I thought that in such situations it is good to vote for the least bad of two choices. That is wrong. I must not vote if I believe a candidate is bad, regardless of the degree of badness of the other fella. 

In truth, I do not know these men. Had I a day to spend alone with each of them, which one would I select to "preserve, protect and defend the Constitution" ? (Alternatively, which one would I enjoy spending a day fishing with? In my lifetime, as I think about the nominees of the major parties, the ones I would like to fish with are Eisenhower, Goldwater, Humphrey, McGovern, Carter, Bush I, Dole, Gore, Bush II, Clinton II.  They all seem like normal people that you wouldn't have to continually engage in conversation. They could just sit in the boat and not need the noise of human mouths, or whine about who forgot the sunscreen. Some years I skipped, sorry Nixon and JFK. But I digress. ) 

I will not have that opportunity so my only choice is to take them at their word. I will assume that both believe exactly what they have said and that there is no intentional falsehood in their words. 

Their political parties do not make this easy. The party I most identify with rejects the beliefs I hold most dear. The party I could inch toward, masquerades as an arm of the local, water-body-named, evangelical church. Neither party is comfortable with orthodox Catholicism. 

I have a right to vote, meaning I get to decide. Do I have responsibility to do so? Yeah I guess. Voting is a way of telling the world that I endorse our form of self government. To vote breathes a little life into it, makes it stronger. 

Do I have an obligation to vote? That is a bit stronger term. Am I obliged? Meaning if I don't vote, do I believe I have done something wrong? Do I owe my country this form of allegiance? I have pledged my allegiance many many times before you my fellow citizens. I have done so in schools and in the public square. I have done so without thinking too much about it. My motives were not always pure. I often pledged my allegiance simply to fit in, to be one of us, heck yeah i'm an American. Just like you. Hand on my heart, hat off my head, yes sir. 

So am I going to vote, just like I promised? Probably. I may not feel good about it but my feelings are largely my fault. When I was a political activist I loved voting. I mean it. Like lay awake at night on election eve, liked it. Be the first in line at the polls, liked it. Wear candidate button to the polls, liked it. That was because I knew the guys on the ballot. I didn't need their ads. I knew what they really believed and what they were like on the weekends and in their homes. That part of my life is over but I'm going to do my best to take that attitude with me to the voting booth. 

That I pledge. 

Tulips in October

 It is late October and the air is crisp as the temperature jumps around the low 30s and high 20s. Last week we had around 6 inches of snow, which is unusual for this part of the state so soon. Two weeks ago I planted around 200 spring tulips and wondered whether I was early, as we were still on the warm side of autumn. 

These bulbs are seeds of a Spring to come. They will lie dormant from October through March. Dormant is not a good word, perhaps disguised is better. In the ground of October, they anticipate the cold of December and the thawing of February and March. While the grass is brown and snow covers the soil, down in the earth the cold temps launch a change inside the bulb. Never mind the botanical details. But a change that will cause a stem and flower to push out of the earth in April and May. For now they get no attention from me. No care, no water, no fertilizer. Only neglect and hardship. From this comes growth. Hmmm, a metaphor for something.

In planting tulips I am looking ahead...around the corner, behind the curtain, over the hill, down the street of time, to another spring. Past the laughs of Thanksgiving. Beyond the Gloria of Christmas and the Miracle of the Annunciation, they will be here to celebrate the Hosanna of Easter. 

Tulips are for time travelers. If you envy them in the spring because there are none in your yard, go back in time six months. Go to Home Depot. Buy bulbs. Plant them. 

If you are annoyed by the work involved in the fall, digging 200 holes, it must be because your body is getting old and is stuck in the present day. Your mind has moved on and is seeing beauty in things that will happen in the year to come. Things you are almost certain of. 

Come Winter!! 

My church was closed today

 My Catholic church was closed today. I needed it to be open. 

Before the pandemic it was open everyday, all day. It has a small beautiful chapel that is a wonderful place to pray, to be in the presence of God, to step out of the secular and into the divine. 

Now it is open about half of the days. Not on Wednesdays apparently. I was born on a Wednesday and have found it to often be a day when one is much in need of Christ. No less so than other days.  

Undeterred, I walked over to the large crucifix and knelt and prayed there. It is outside, so not subject to keys and locks and chimes and light switches and hvac units and other instruments that rule inside buildings. 

Lord please hear my prayer this day for one so close and dear to me. 

I did not watch the debate

 The last presidential debate I am certain I watched was in 1992 between Bush, Clinton, Perot. I remember it quite well as I was on location working with one of the campaigns and standing behind the cameras at Washington University in St. Louis. I may have also watched one of the Bush-Gore debates as well. 

However in the last twenty years or so, it seems that the debates have slowly declined in importance and information content. Wouldn't it be nice to have a thoughtful discussion between our former Vice-President and our current President on say; HIV in sub-Saharan Africa, the various territorial claims to Antarctica, foreign relations with Venezuela (to pick three important topics that no one is discussing today)? 

Take a moment and read the transcripts of the 1980 Carter-Reagan debates. I prefer reading the transcripts to watching videos as it forces one to think about their words over the style of their delivery. What you find are two men who disagree very strongly with each other. They probably didn't like each other. Yet, they presented their views with dignity, in a gentlemanly fashion, with respect for their opponent. 

Their different views made sense. Each position had some value and merit. In their time they were considered important, but no one would have thought in 1980 that the voters of 2020 would look back on them with admiration. Yet we do, not because they were that great, they weren't, but because of how far the tone of current public debate has declined.  

The politics of running

This week I went for a long run on one of the many state trails. This one runs along the Minnesota River from Chaska to Shakopee Minnesota. 

It was two days after the death of a famous politician.

Along the trail there were little signs with directional arrows and rules such as "no motorized vehicles", "stay on the trail", "clean up after your dog", and the like. 

On each of the signs someone had placed a sticker, "Rest in peace, politician's name". Someone felt that while I am out running on this beautiful trail I needed to think about their hero. No, I did not. I could write much on what sort of person would do that, but since I once was that sort of person, I won't. Anyway, whomever you are, you briefly interrupted my solitude, but you won't interrupt that of others. The stickers came down, sign by sign, one by one. 

...and he left the woods better than he found them.  

The tree down the street

 There is a large old oak tree in my neighbor's yard. It lived to be around a hundred and fifty or so years, and then died. This year. The other old oaks are just starting to shed a few leaves but this one has nary a one, and has not had all year. 

Talk is, the owners have had three arborists out to look at it. I guess in tree world that's the same as getting a second opinion. Yep, it's dead. Or as a Minnesotan would say, It's a goner, ya got that right. They must want to keep it. Though they have only owned that land and tree for about three years, perhaps they feel that such a decision best goes slowly. Or maybe it is something simpler, procrastinating, or not being able to afford the removal, or the hope that maybe next spring it will come back to life. 

Our perspectives differ. Those who live in the house look out the window and see the same huge trunk as the year before. Same same. Those who live down the street see bare branches and death. 

There is this deep thing in us that keeps things in their place. Before Minnesota was a state that tree may have been here. We long for permanence. 

The neighbor should cut down the tree. It's dangerous and is becoming an eyesore. But I understand the reluctance to cut. Just last week I got around to paying someone some money I owed them since 1978. They didn't even know I owed them. It was easy to put off. But I'm getting old. But not like that tree. 

Marriage and a book

Sometimes you read a book and love each page. Others you just slog through. I just finished "One hundred years of Solitude", which is supposedly one of the great novels of the last century. It is not. No Sir. 

It has one passage near the end that makes all the drudgery preceding it worthwhile. It describes a trait of a good marriage. "... they enjoyed the miracle of loving each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn-out old people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs. "

Thoughts on the birth of my grandson, Benjamin

 What a wonderful blessing to welcome a second grandson this summer.

While you are not the first, you are the son of my son, and that makes you special and distinct. Being the father of a son is very different than being the father of a daughter (to state the obvious) and there will be a special set of joys you will bring to your family.  

I have not yet held you, that is several days away. But when I do I will be drawn back to that day when I held your dad for the first time. How wonderful it was, as a man, to hold this small future man in my hands. The first word I will whisper in your ear will be the name of our Saviour, and I will make the sign of the cross on your forehead. Perhaps some day you will be as fortunate as I and will do the same with your child and grandchild, please do. 

How blessed you are to be born to this man and woman. They love you so much and will raise you up to be a true son of our Father. Your sisters will meet you today for the first time and they will get another glimpse of true love as new feelings for you immediately spring forth inside them. 

So much is running through my head as I think about you. I try and picture you as a young man, but that is so difficult. You are a big baby so I imagine you as a big kid and a big man. Ahead lie the St. Louis Cardinals, long hot days at the ball park, other afternoons on some ball field with a team of friends, nights alone studying schoolwork, riding a bike, climbing a tree, driving a car. Each good thing making you more and more into the type of person you should be. 

 It is easy to think about all the troubles in this world and the many trials you will face, but for now I have to set that aside and simply thank God that you are here. I am thankful for your parents and their love for each other. I am thankful for the wisdom I see in them as they raise your sisters. 

Your family needs you. How and in what way, we don't know. But we know their family is already bigger and better and more complete because of you. There will be things about you that make your mom and dad better parents. There will be ways you make your sisters better young women. When the time comes for them to marry, if you become the young man I think you will, they will think often about the best things about you and your dad, and they will want to marry someone who is a bit like both of you. 

As you sleep in the arms of your mother, you are the image to us of the beauty of creation. You are now with her as we should all be with our heavenly Father, totally dependent, unable to do a single thing on your own behalf. Like us at so many times, you are also unaware of the goodness that rains down upon you. Unaware and thus unable to offer thanks for the nourishment and warmth and blessings that surround you. 

Soon you will be baptized into His Church and the grace of our Lord will pour upon your soul. It will be the start of your walk with Him who will guide you always. How great is the love of our Lord for you, that he called you to life at this time and place. 

Remember me in your prayers, as I will for you. God bless you Benjamin Brooks, and preserve you in his Holy arms. 

Thoughts on the birth of my first grandson

I have pondered your arrival for several days now and am still at a loss to put to words what your arrival means to me. When one looks at a new born child, it is with a sense of awe, no more so when the child is your descendant. 

I hold you as my grandfather held me and I am reaching back in my past. Re-enacting a scene that has played out down through the centuries of our family. Someday the little hands that I hold will hold the tiny hands of his child, my great grandchild, and then of my great great grandchild. Always with the same awe and puzzlement that is before me now. 

Your mother wanted you so much I will not even attempt to put that into words. Your arrival was preceded by countless prayers and tears and cries to the Father. My prayers were lifted up in my home, in my car as I drove to work, in so many churches and along countless walks alone. "Lord, make Rachel a mother." I doubted at times whether my oldest daughter would be so blessed, but God in his wisdom granted our prayers at the time and place of his choosing, not ours. And not before many tears were shed for reasons that are beyond our understanding. But, as always, what God had planned for our family is better than what we planned, for now we have you. We are so happy that you are now here and will always be thankful to God for his providence. 

Our family is more complete now. As our family has grown it has still seemed as though someone or something was missing. We couldn't name it, but all who loved your mother sensed that perhaps our thoughts were about you. That missing piece now so tiny yet so large. At Thanksgiving and Christmas and all other big family gatherings there was this unspoken person who was not there, who we all felt should be. 

I think now of these holidays and simple family days to come. Soon your mother will come to our home bearing you in her arms. In a flash it will be that you will come walking up the steps holding her hand. Later you will bound up those steps with your parents trailing behind, bearing some story of an accomplishment or victory at school or play. 

We await those days with anticipation but for now are content to watch you in your helplessness and dependence on your father and mother. There is a beauty in the state you are in this day, totally dependent on others, without the ability to do one thing for yourself. You only have this sense of what you need, food and comfort. You know this will be provided and cannot even conceive of being without. You are nine days old and have never been hungry or cold or hot. You have been blessed to be in the arms of a man and woman who have committed their lives to each other and to you and have the means to provide for you. In time you will realize what a blessing indeed this is, for even in the hospital where you were born there are those who share your birth date who do not share in your good fortune. 

In the months to come you will teach us so much. You will remind us of the wonder of this earth, as mud squishes through your toes, butterflies catch your eye, dogs lick your face, and raindrops fall on your head. You will teach us about trust. You will remind us of the joy and laughter that comes with learning. You will remind us to be thankful for all the things we forget to thank God for, as smiles fill your face when you learn to take a step, to feed yourself, to dress yourself, to do something nice for someone else. 

You will teach us about faith, real faith. As your parents fill your mind with stories of God, the Lord himself will fill your heart, and you will believe. How our Lord himself was once right where you are, gazing at his mother and father, helpless. And you will not doubt. Later others will introduce you to doubt, but that will not come from your parents or from the Lord. My prayer for you this day is that you will ever stand strong and not waver. 

I have a favor to ask of you, Truman Dyrud. As with your mother and her siblings and my other grandchildren, the first word you heard from my lips was the name of the Christ, Jesus. I also made the sign of the cross on your forehead. It was my little way of thanking God for you and doing one little thing to start your life as He would have it. I ask that when you come to such a time in your life, that you do this for my great grandchildren and their children. And if you have time in all the excitement, say a prayer for me, as I will for you. 

I am happier than I can say that you are here. I so look forward to sharing the days, weeks and years to come with you. God bless you Truman and lift you up, be a good man. 

You can smoke frozen pork ribs

I'm sure the title of this post is heresy to smoking purists.

The problem with smoking meat, is every article or book you read goes through this long diatribe about things to do for that perfect ending to a the hours on the smoker. Wet sauce, dry rub, do this, do that, salt them, don't salt them, marinade, dance a jig, down a shot of whiskey, and on and on.

One day I decided to smoke ribs on the spur of the moment. Like, fire up the smoker, remove ribs from the freezer and stick 'em in. Fortunately I had some St. Louis style ribs that were just the right length and did not require firing up the chain saw.

I guess I was curious more than anything. I was sorta wanting ribs, but mainly I wanted the smell of the smoker going on a cool spring day as I did some yard work.

I cooked them about the same amount of time I would if company was comin. Around 6 hrs, around 200-225. No salt no pepper no marinade. These were nekkid ribs and they were just fine. Not my best but they would have been good enough for family and for most of the people I would invite over to the house.

Would they win a competition? Never? Could I open a restaurant selling Eskimo style ribs? Doubtful, though Minnesotans would by them in droves if I stuck "fusion" in the name. Will I do it again? Absolutely.

Great day just to fish

There are days when it is nice just to be on the lake, whether the fish are biting or not. I don't have one of those fancy fish finders, and I don't read the fishing tables. Mainly I just fish when I feel like it. If the fish are biting, I keep going, if they aren't I stop. Usually.

Today we fished for crappie, mainly jigging white grubs. Boy there were a ton of bites but seems the fish were just playing with us. Lots of nibbles few nice bites. In two hours the two of us caught about fifteen or so. Threw them all back for someone else to catch.

The lake was like glass almost all morning. An occasional gust but otherwise just nice and calm. Easy to use that trolling motor and not fighting the wind like it is often around here. The water temp is about 80, which is getting nice for swimming.

My wife likes to fish, which is good, most of the time.

The Nativity of John the Baptist

When I became Catholic, there were many things I grew to love that I had not thought much about when pondering finer points of theology. One is the church calendar. There is always something going on and it is always pointing to Jesus.

This week we celebrated the birth of John the Baptist. Just six more months until Christmas! Three months ago, when snow was still on the ground, came the annunciation - 9 months until Christmas. The angel told Mary at that time that her cousin Elizabeth was in her sixth month. Mary traveled to see Elizabeth, who became in a way the first evangelist, sorta. It was Elizabeth who proclaimed that the child Jesus, living three months in the womb of Mary, was "my Lord".

John the Baptist. The Precursor. He must increase and I must decrease. Leaping in the womb as Mary approaches Elizabeth. Preparing the way of the Lord. In the wilderness with a few followers. The baptizer of Jesus. Martyr at the hand of Herod Antipas.

Saint John the Baptist, pray for us.