Foremost on my Mind: The Loss of the Three C's

Have you ever had three unrelated events happen to you, yet in an uncanny sense they seem somewhat related? Just a few days ago, three things happened, that, on the surface, had no connection to each other. Curious? Confused? Read on...

I didn't actually anticipate any of following, but they happened nonetheless: One, the landslide victory of the Progressive Conservatives; two, the Vancouver Canucks' ouster in the first round; and three, the death of Chuck Colson.

Again, none of these appear to be linked in any way. If you get creative, however, you might see a political connection (Conservatives-Colson); or, you might see the villain connection (Canucks-Colson); and then again, there might be a sense-of-relief connection (Conservatives-Canucks)—relief, as in one political party never made it in, and one team never made it in to the next round.

I must say that when I woke up after each event, my life was inherently no differently than it was the day before—despite those losses (or gains, depending on your viewpoint).

Let's take Chuck Colson, as an example. I am so old that I remember Watergate on the news. I even remember when Colson was arrested and sent to prison. It was around that time when he has this “born again” experience. Out of Chuck's prison experience came his Gospel-humanitarian service called “Prison Fellowship Ministries” that has turned around the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of current and ex-prisoners.

Funny how you won't read about this on cbc.ca.

The Canucks? Oh, the Canucks! Destined to play Pittsburgh in the Stanley Cup finals this June, the only thing they'll be doing together is playing golf. I would need a complete column to discuss (that's a combination of diss and cuss) the Canucks --what they should have done and what they should now do. Suffice to say, I am disappointed and irritated, but hey, there's always the Leafs and the Canadiens.

Finally, the Conservative landslide victory. Well, at least in the Central and North. Down here in the South, there's going to to be a new sheriff in town. Pundits, pollisters, and even politicians predicted a possible Wildrose majority (best-case scenario), or a Wildrose minority (worst-case scenario). Becoming the official oposition lies somewhere in between.

As you marvel at all these links, surely you must be thinking of yet another one or two. I have: They all had significant '70s. The Canucks entered the NHL in 1970, the PC's have been reigning for around 41 years, which places their start with Peter Lougheed around 1971, and Colson was making his initial headlines in the early '70s.

So, back to reality. Let's talk about impact for a moment: Whether the Canucks lose or win, it really doesn't make a rip of difference in my life (unless I get harassed by pouty Flames fans). As far as the PC's go, yes, they have some exceedingly dangerous bills they want to pass, and I need to be wary—along with thousands of other Albertans over the next four years. But it's Chuck Colson's passing that I think has affected me the most.

Let me explain why: Among other things, he wrote a regular email journal that I read religiously (don't get your collar turned around—it's just an expression). 'Enjoyed' seems too trite a word; I was challenged, refreshed, and illuminated each time it came.

He didn't appear to have an axe to grind, or, as in the case of the Canucks and Conservatives, respectively, he wasn't simply playing or politicking. He dealt with issues that are the bedrock of our society, namely, standing for traditional families, as well as single-parent families; life in and out of prison; dealing with illness, death, and autism, plus many other relevant subjects.

I may have exaggerated a little when I said my life will be no different because of these three losses. The death of a man of God, like Chuck Colson, with his wise and practical insight, will be a severe loss.

For the Canucks, there's next year; for the Wildrose, there's 2016. But for Colson, there's eternity.

Foremost on my Mind: Male Storm?

I always thought that the word “maelstrom” was pronounced “male storm.” Yes, I can read, and yes, I do have a fairly adequate grasp of the English language, thank you very much. It's one of those malaprops that would be funny if it wasn't so intriguing.

Maelstrom, by the way, means “a state of turbulence and confusion.” That would be maelstrom, as in what Kirk Cameron (formerly of “Growing Pains” fame and lately as the co-creator of the pro-life DVD, “180”) created when he was put on the spot during a recent Piers Morgan interview. He simply exercised his God-given right (and responsibility, by the way) to express what he believed—sans hate, anger, or bitterness.

I wish the “victims” of his opinions were so charitable.

I don't think there's a law against that...yet. His opinion? What he thought about same-sex relationships. He wasn't asking the Hollywood groupies to become monogamous, celibate, or even join a convent. He simply struggles with the “unnaturalness” of such a union--as do millions of others, but they're not forced to give their opinion on public television.

To repeat: He was simply responding to a question. It was not his initiative, nor did he have an evil intention or hidden agenda. Somehow, however, his sincere response has been misconstrued as “hate-mongering.”

I don't like the direction our society has been going over these past thirty years (as if you didn't know). As a parent and a teacher, but especially as a common, ordinary citizen, I resent being scrutinized as to whether some word or opinion is considered hate-mongering. Defining our terms would likely be a good place to start.

Would that mean I can't have moral standards? Express a personal opinion? Value a righteous tradition? That seems disturbingly inconsistent, because I myself am constantly being barraged with immoral standards, opposing personal opinions, and a very definite unrighteous tradition.

Every now and then, someone sends a letter to the editor of this newspaper, expressing his or her disagreement with me. I have never considered such missives hate-mongering. In fact, I welcome them. Other questions come to mind, however, such as: Did the writer even read the whole column? Did he or she simply scan the column, then jump to his or her own predetermined conclusions? Many times I have been accused of implying things that I haven't even thought about, let alone written.

Now, in addition to Kirk Cameron's take on lifestyle, the latest news out of England is that they are going goofy with what we can call our married partner; that is, they are debating whether we can call our husband (or wife) “husband” or “wife.” So now if I were living in England, there's a growing chance that I could no longer refer to Gwynne, who happens to be the woman I'm legally married to, as my “wife.” Where's the broad acceptance of diversity in that? And furthermore, one of the politicians who is opposing this has had hate mail and death threats.

That's a really mature response when you don't get your own way. Whatever happened to genuine tolerance?

In a civilized society, there is room for every one and every one's opinion. This column represents that; letters to the editor represent that. Classified ads and paid announcements represent that. I don't believe I have once ever demanded every one reading this embrace my morality. I tolerate lifestyles that violate my convictions, but I would never send hate mail or issue death threats. Nor do I expect them from civilized Albertans.

At the end of the day, I aim to be witty, pointed and relevant, but for sure, I know I am sad. That would be S-A-D, as in disappointed in a free society that continues to chip away at its moral bedrock, that abuses far too many of its courageous citizens—all under the guise of the (apparent) violations of human rights.

Call it what you like--a maelstrom or a male storm--we all are humans, we all have rights.

Foremost on my Mind: What the Hay

For any number of reasons, I would not like to be a cow. I may eat like a horse, sometimes I get a little antsy, and things may be going to the dogs in my life, but I draw the line when it comes to being linked to a cow.

The reason? Among many others, its diet.

You would think all I ever think about is food, based on last week's column on pizza. That's simply not true. I also think about sleep. Even then, when sleeping, as I am counting sheep, I'm always trying to butcher them for my next meal.

(Just as an aside for last week's work, I believe Adam and Eve ate Hawaiian pizza in the Garden of Eatin', er, Eden. Sin entered the world, and behold, there were black olives and yellow peppers.)

I'm thinking that a diet of the same food, day in and day out, without so much as ketchup to embellish, er, garnish it, is just too much. Mind you, it would give me license to say before every meal, “What the hay?” Instead of saying grace, I would be saying “grass.”

It's not only cows that have the same daily diet, either. Ever seen dog food? Cat food? Fish food? Ever eaten any of it? (I know, I know: What happens in the food dish stays in the food dish.)

While I may be fairly adventuresome with many things in life, I never (as in N-E-V-E-R) mess with what I order when going out for a meal. On the one hand, I don't want the same thing every time I go out for supper; but on the other hand, here are only about one of six dishes that I would order (beef dip, Monte Cristo sandwich, chicken burger, for starters). And pizza, natch.

However, as much as I like the same few dishes (Maurice, I not fussy, I'm discerning), I still enjoy a little variety. I couldn't handle, for example, beef dip for breakfast, lunch and supper, seven days a week, four weeks a month, and so on. Enough is enough...and then it's too much.

Whether you believe the divine side of the Good Book, I'm sure you will at least acknowledge the historical side. One of the greatest stories ever told was the wanderings through the wilderness for forty years by the freed Jewish slaves, as they made their way from Egypt back to the land that the LORD gave them, Palestine.

One of the many unique features about that account was--you guessed it—their diet. Without going into all the fascinating details, with all the spiritual subplots, suffice to say, they ate the same food day in and day out, month in and month out, for four decades! There were specific restrictions on when to get it, how to get it, and where to get it. (Read it at your leisure and pleasure in Exodus 16, the second book of the Old Testament.)

I tend to be hard on those Hebrew pilgrims, for all their ungratefulness, laziness, and complaining, but I think I would be just as bad, if I were, say, Ezra ben Solomon, son of Gilead and Machpelah. I mean, after all, manna in the morning, manna at noon, and manna in the evening would be just too much. Even if there could be manna loaves (or would that be 'bread bread'?), fried manna, manna chow mein, or manna meringue pie, at the end of the day, the base diet would still be manna.

So, let's get back to the cows. All they eat is grass in its natural state, or gift-wrapped (aka bales), with a little grain thrown in for good measure—kind of like a chocolate bar on the bovine menu. But at the end of the day, the base diet is still grass. They thrive on it, only because they are wired that way (a soft suggestion here, people, that there is a Grand Designer behind these things).

So cows can eat their grass, the Hebrews can eat their manna, but I'll stick with some beef dish. You might say that I'm going to have a cow over this matter, one way or the other.