One Minute for Peace…..

If Only we in the U.S. spent even a minuscule amount of  what we spend for our wars to promote peace…

I want to direct you to a website promoting peace instead of war.  OneMinuteForPeace.org from the American Friends Service Committee. As the site states in the previous year the United States has spent over $1 trillion of military spending. That comes out to almost $2,000,000 every minute! It is sad to say but we spend more on our military than the rest of the world combined and many many times more to fund our wars than we do to promote peace.

 

The graph above from their website shows the total U.S. discretionary spending. It is shameful that our war machine takes up so much of our spending.

The AFSC is part of the Quaker faith tradition and is world famous for their peace initiatives. In fact they have received a past Nobel Peace prize for their activity. They go throughout the world helping those who are destitute and/or ravaged by wars. They are trying to raise the amount of just one minute’s U.S. military budget for those initiatives. Please consider giving them some of your resources. It is too bad that small organizations like the AFSC must do the bulk of the peacemaking work when so much is spent of war and destruction.

I find it amazing that many in government say we are spending our grandchildren into poverty while at the same time putting the biggest budget item in the “no cuts” category. It saddens me more to know that so many people who call themselves Christian seem to celebrate that fact. If only we in the U.S. had even a small fraction of our passion for peace that we seem to have for war we could indeed call ourselves our brother’s keeper.

And the journey goes on….

The Bi-weekly Haircut…..

I just got a haircut recently and a memory came back to me from my childhood. In order to get it back where it belongs on the far fringes of my memory I have to post it here. I don’t have nearly as much hair as I did back then and I get it cut much less frequently now. But it was a tradition for several years that I always got my “Hollywood Burr” hair cut every two weeks. It was a neighborhood tradition for several years.

The man living just behind us named Mr. Harmon was a barber in the army so he knew a thing or two about cutting hair. The first thing was to cut it quick and the second was to cut it short! I guess in order to supplement his income, although I don’t know what he did for his main job, he opened his garage every Saturday morning and all the neighborhood kids would line up for their 35 cent haircut. I think he managed to buzz through about twelve kids an hour. Mr. Harmon always told the parents “if it is not short enough bring them back and I will make it shorter at no expense.”  I know Mr. Harmon had two boys himself and it seemed their hair never grew by more than an eighth of an inch before they were in the chair. It is strange that I don’t really remember much about his boys but I remember him with his hair trimmers in hand every Saturday.

Above is a picture from those days. I don’t seem to have any pictures of Mr. Harmon or his kids but I did find this one of me and my brothers and a friend a couple of doors down named Denny Cannon. I’m not sure what we were celebrating but it looks like we were having a pretty good time. That’s me the third one from the left. Notice my freshly cut hair; the photo must have been taken on a Saturday 🙂 Notice the brick wallpaper in the background; that was quite the thing in those days. Ok I think I have penned enough here to safely put this memory back where it belongs.

And the journey goes on…..

My High School Years…..

 

This is my first post about my high school years. Since I want to make this a series I will only give you a small slice of those years here. I went to high school in the small town of Monrovia Indiana. I started there in the eighth grade in 1960. Before Monrovia I went to a Catholic school in Indianapolis. I can still remember the culture shock I faced those first days of school! I quickly realized that these were not nuns who were teaching me now.

First of all the school I was starting in was built in 1893. The steps and many of the corners of the hall way walls showed the signs of the thousands of kids who had preceded me into the building. There were simply no sharp corners left in the building. Everything had been rubbed smooth by the previous generations. I learned later that you just couldn’t sneak around between classes as you eventually stepped on a floor board that would make a load creak.

My first and probably the most dramatic episode involving culture shock occurred as the student hall monitor was taking me to my first class. We were walking down the first floor hall. Since it was during class hours we were the only ones in the hall. That is until I heard a door slam open and a student desk come flying out into the hall. That would have been traumatic enough but there was a student in the chair at the time! It seemed that Mr. Schuler, the local farmer/history teacher just could not tolerate anyone sleeping during his class. If you did you were quickly shown the door with your desk and all!

In the years that followed Mr. Schuler proved to be one of my favorite teachers. I certainly learned to appreciate history under his tutelage and have been regularly reading books on it since those years. But he just could not tolerate people who slept while he was trying to teach them. Once I adjusted to the new culture level of a rural public high school I had many memorable moments in the creakity old building. A few years after I graduated they built a new high school and the old building, my alma mater, became a place to store hay. That is before they finally tore it down. Go Bulldogs!!!

And the journey goes on….

Born Deaf vs Late Deafened…

I think of my deafness as an affliction that I must daily try to overcome in order to go about my business in the hearing world. That is not the case with some, perhaps most, who are born deaf. They claim they celebrate their deafness to the degree that they deem giving any child who is deaf a cochlear implant is child abuse! A cochlear implant is a device that is surgically inserted into a deaf person’s hearing system to allow many of them to hear.

The deaf who strongly identify with their deafness are know as the Deaf Culture with a capital “D”. As I said above they celebrate the deafness and do not wish to join the hearing world. In large population areas they, like many minorities, tend to associated primarily with others like themselves. Where possible they shop at deaf retailers, get their haircut from deaf barbers, etc. There are some who are late deafened who choose to join the Deaf culture but they are by far the minority of that culture. In fact many who are born deaf hold an animosity towards those of us who went deaf after being fully associated with the hearing world. One of the reasons for this is that we use English Sign Language instead of ASL. They say we are polluting their language by putting it in an English word order. Don’t get me wrong; those who have an animosity toward other deaf people are an extreme minority of the population much like the 9/11 terrorists are an extreme minority of the Muslim population. (I am definitely not saying the Deaf culture folks are terrorist so please don’t go there.)

In my experiences many in the Deaf Culture crowd see their population constantly dwindling each and every year due to cochlear implants and other medical advances. They seem to see the writing on the wall that soon, probably within a couple more generations, they will be a much smaller group than they are today. This greatly threatens their way of life. In that regard I can understand their feelings and have a degree of compassion for them. But life must go on and in the hearing world.

And the journey goes on….