Something on my Mind: I Lie at Night

I am a parent (one of two), the son of a set of parents, the father of parent (or two), so I have some experience with family life—warts and all. One of the greatest parenting challenges (though they all seem to be tied for first place) is teaching kids character, guiding them in their moral development.

Children raised in homes where character, virtue, and principals—all components of moral development—are not taught, are deprived. Parents have a fundamental responsibility to train their own children. The neighbourhood doesn't raise the kids, nor does the society at large—and that includes the school and the church.

These various communities can all help, to be sure, but the parents have the priority in this matter.

That, of course, is the ideal model, and in a fallen world of imploding families, multiple lovers, transient homes, cyber babysitters, my previous analysis now seems so archaic. I sadly agree, but it doesn't stop me from stating my case, or even aiming for a goal.

And within the book of moral development, you might say, there is one chapter that really stands out, in my estimation, that of telling the truth. Re-packaged, we could call it being honest, having integrity, speaking straight, not lying, and so forth.

“Lie” is a very short word in your Oxford Canadian Dictionary, but it's your Thesaurus that you want to consult at this point. Better still, read this county-famous writer who is intent on giving a vocabulary and moral lesson in the same breath (that would be me.)

If you want a synonym (not cinnamon, Cousin Reggie) for “lie,” I can assure you it's going to get personal. You see, we (me, you, and us) lie frequently, without even thinking of it. It has become so prevalent in our confused and wasted culture that it is now normal and acceptable.

When I sign up on a credit card but refuse to pay the balance at the end of the month, that's lying; and giving some wussy excuse to the bank about our financial extremities, when in fact we wasted our money on vices instead of essentials, that's also lying. Or referring to that as an “oversight” by saying we “forgot,” that's lying.

Fudging on our scheduling chaos, but explaining it away could be considered a very pretty lie. Feigning misunderstanding instruction when, in fact, we weren't listening or didn't want to do it, is a very clever lie. And messing up words (“you mean 'me' meant 'me'?”) is a very winsome lie.

You might say it's about repackaging the truth—and that's not a good thing at any level.

We can even lie without moving our lips: Silence, they say, is golden; it can also be be misleading—another fancy word for lying. Ever heard of body language (with the emphasis on “language”)? We can say a lot about ourselves, what we want, who we're teasing, by simple body language.

Misleading statements, gross exaggerations, padded facts, and any form of flattery, can all be summed up in one word: lies. You see, you can wash a pig, put a bow on its snout, and call it Patsy, but at the end of the day, it's still a pig.

Parents can be guilty of lying when they make promises to kids they know they won't keep; teachers can lie with threats of phone calls and punishment that they don't intend to deliver; politicians, media, car salesmen...well, you get the picture.

Even in a retail context, we are surrounded with lies: hamburgers look bigger and better in pictures than they do in real life; things on sale are actually not always cheaper in the long run; and promises for tried and true results rarely come through.

We lie because we want to be polite and not offensive (good); we want to avoid conflict (good); we don't want to disappoint people (good); or we fail to be open and honest with each other because we don't want to be vulnerable and get hurt (makes sense to me).

But somehow we need to develop the art of honesty without compromising the truth—a fine line indeed—just like I'm trying to do with you right now.

Sugarcoating this column would be just another example of lying, one reason why I try to : “shoot straight”—and that's the truth.

Something on my Mind: Double Double

I'm sure we have all been disgusted with the growing ISIS plague that's splattered all over northern Iraq and parts of Syria, and so we should. In addition to that is the grisly public beheadings of journalists and aid workers.

What little I have seen is horrifying. I understand from sources (high school students who will remain nameless) that there are actual Internet sites that you can go to to watch the deed being done. Not sure who in their right mind would watch it, but I'd probably lose mine if I did.

But thinking about the whole publicity thing has really provoked me, to somewhere just above outrage and a little below civil disobedience. Not sure if there is anyone else out there, but does anyone smell what I smell?

By that, I mean that I smell something fishy in what is reported, and ultimately, in what is read, by those who believe everything that the media reports—and doesn't report.

Can you spell “d-o-u-b-l-e s-t-a-n-d-a-r-d?”

In other words, with regard to ISIS, there is a worldwide outrage with the sick and heartless way certain people have been put to death—and so there should be. And I am sure we don't know the half of it.

Then further afield, there's a muted outcry with what is happening (note: present tense) in Iran, China, North Korea, even Mexico, and other rogue states—and that's just within the past few years.

Or let's go back a couple of decades, to the Balkan War of the '90s: Does anyone remember how many thousands of Muslim males were butchered? Didn't think so. And beyond that, hundreds of executions that went unreported.

Going back further, has ISIS's actions been any worse than the atrocities during World War II (you pick the country)? I suggest to you they haven't been. The key difference is the way the news is reported,. Space, time, and heart do not allow for a discussion about the murderous bloodbath of all and sundry resistance movements over the past 100 years alone.

But the real double standard is that North America butchers more people on a daily basis that ISIS will ever kill. It falls under the euphemistic category of “pro-choice”; we rational thinkers call it abortion, or, the murder of defenceless babies.

My son recently heard a teacher explain it this way: He had a hundred grains of rice in his hand, representing the number of people killed by ISIS; then he showed a twenty-five pound bag of rice, representing the deaths of innocent victims in North America over the past decade or so.

Which is more newsworthy? Which should get our attention first? Why no news coverage about those murders of innocents?

Have we become so soft, so skewed in our thinking and values, that we don't even think about anything other than what we're told by the media? That alarms me, and so it should likewise alarm you.

Double standards are hard to combat. I struggle with some myself, but never—I repeat, never—do it intentionally. We are all human we all have feet of clay; I can live with that--but that's not what I'm talking about.

The double standard of selective reporting, of ignoring some of the crucial facts is both unethical and immoral. Fairly strong words, I'd say, from a lowly, ordinary citizen in some small Alberta town. It's the word “some” that's integral to this argument: If we were being whitewashed all the way, we would be outraged; however, we are being whitewashed a little bit of the way, but we should still be outraged.

So let's try to pull this all together: One, there are some gruesome atrocities out there in the Middle East; two, however, they are no more gruesome than what we have heard or seen over the past few decades; and three, if we're going to report gruesome, barbaric murders, let's start with what we North Americans are doing to our own children.

This misplaced horror strikes me as inconsistent at best, hypocritical at worst. Perhaps some genuine reporting about America's own death chambers for its babies would be in order.

It seems to me that there is selective indignation, and not only spells a double standard, but it spells double trouble.

Piece of Mind: The Worst F-Word Ever

Sorry, kids, not that word. No, the word I'm thinking of has more to do with laziness, an untrained mind, and an attempted easy excuse for not getting things done.

Before I divulge it, let me assure you that there were a bunch of words tied for second place: Flames, fonics (no, I guess that would be “phonics”), funeral, or Funston—and not necessarily in that order.

We may find ourselves stooping to it once in a blue moon, to cover up our own personal lack of discipline. That would be also known as a soft lie, for all you purists: In other words, I (and you, we, and others) would likely use it when I (you, we, and others) are not coming clean on something that hasn't been done, when it should have.

The word, of course, is “forget”--or its sister in the past tense, “forgot.”

We use it when we tell the officer that we “forgot” the speed limit changed just before the hill; we use it when we tell the dentist that we “forgot” the appointment was on Tuesday, not Wednesday. Sometimes we stoop to justify missing an anniversary here (guys, confession time!) or a meeting there; or we could discuss when there's a bill to be paid, but the it's not paid on time.

In one of my worlds, I have students who “forget” to do their homework, or “forget” to bring their binder back from home—you know the binder that's bigger than their lunch kit, indoor shoes, and backpack combined—and they certainly would never forget those things.

Being the mighty fine, mature Christian teacher that I am, I say very little to that lapse. What I want to say is another thing. It's neither printable nor repeatable. Okay, okay, slight exaggeration here.

So why do we “forget” so much or at least try to cover up something deeper by pretending to forget? Is it perhaps more of an ethical problem than mental one? Just wondering.

The easy answer, of course, is that I don't know. Neither do the psychological pundits, but that has never stopped many one of them (or anyone else with a keyboard in front of them) from trying to diagnose the problem.

First, I suggest to you, dear reader (and you too, not-so dear reader), that the root issue is not forgetfulness but laziness. It stems from a keyboard culture, where a click is all that's necessary for success, where mediocre is the norm.

I could add to the list of contributing factors, but I'm sure you could try to come up with your own: short, stupid television shows; shallow multimedia, instant connections, and video games. I don't say they are all evil and everyone who engages in them are twits; I just said they are contributing factors.

Age can erode memory, thus creating forgetfulness. That I can can live with. But when directions, recipes, compositions, and patterns are routinely forgotten, missed and messed up, that is not good. And when said mess up becomes acceptable, that is dangerous and tragic.

I personally feel that we need to be less dependent on electronics and more dependent on our own minds. We need to shake the cobwebs from our brain and have those times tables, for example, firmly embedded in our head—and toss the calculators. (Naturally there is place for calculators for the big stuff.)

The Good Book speaks frequently of how to do this: One reference speaks of “renewing our minds”--suggesting something done regularly and refreshingly; another encouragement speaks of tightening up the loose ends of our minds. (The actual phrase is “girding up the loins of our minds,” but I thought I might lose you on that one.

We often see it in young employees who work the cash register in a fast-food outlet, or young staffers who can't follow basic instructions. They've had no training or discipline to do it in their head.

Is there an easy solution? Hardly. But I have four steps for you: 1. Recognize the need for a better, more effective memory; 2. Start working on reconditioning your memory, though lifestyle adjustments, techniques, and, yes, even a better diet; 3. Chip away at memory training practices.

And I, uh, I just forgot the fourth one.

Piece of Mind: Schoolhouse--or Home?

This is the time of year that we teachers-cum-writers sit down and wax positively and enthusiastically about the upcoming school year. At this stage of September, it is still a fresh start—maybe a different curriculum or a new teaching style, a stronger yet gentler presence in the classroom, along with the necessary patience and creativity.

Right; that generally lasts for about three weeks, and then we often tend to fall into the same old rut—some of us more than others. Even though I am less than part-time, I am also guilty as charged.

Alas, alas, I must add to my comments the promises of some clown back east, fomenting a movement to ban homework, as if that will make school any more attractive to a bored fourteen-year-old kid. Or we can look in the other direction (that would be west, over to BC, Maurice) where there is a nasty teachers' strike going on (and on and on it goes).

One of the advantages of living in Alberta is the educational options there are for students—children and adult alike. Said options come in the form of day school (public, private, and Christian) and home school. The “adult” component relates to the diligent work that Jody Cassell and her team do with our Mennonite friends throughout the county.

So it's that time of year when we (that would be parents, kids, and teachers) are slowly settling into a routine of books, breaks and blackboards—or maybe in today's educational environment, iPads, hang out time, and smartboards.

Funny how you can dress it up, change its name, and re-package it, but it's still a classroom with doors, desks, and windows. Not that change isn't good; one wonders, though, are these million dollar projects producing million dollar results?

I am committed to the education principal that what's best for the child is best for all. One child may do well in day school, whereas another may do better in a home school. Parents ultimately must make that choice for their kids. And I repeat that it is a wise province that allows these choices.

At this stage of my life (and within that, my career), I am seeing some wonderful results through those that have gone the Christian school and home school route. Don't get your hackles up just because I am promoting (what appears to be) my biased educational approach. I'm not: It's the world I live in and I have a reasonable understanding of what goes behind the closed doors of a Christian school and home school

I always feel I need to place a caveat at this juncture of my columns on schooling, so here it is again: I have many, many friends who teach and administer in public schools, and they are doing a terrific job. That goes for those I don't know, too.

That being said here, as well as in other columns, it is the parents' right to choose the education model for their child, but it is also the parents' responsibility to follow through on that choice. If their choice, on one hand, is for day school, then they need to support the teachers and programmes, pay their bills on time, and get involved in as many committees as reasonable.

If, on the other hand, their choice is for home education, then get the best curriculum for your child(ren), be diligent about content, proficiency, skills, and excellence, and enjoy the ride. More and more colleges and universities are competing for homeschooled students for those very reasons.

As a parent, regardless of the model you choose, remember that these are the most formative years of your child's life. Don't let them fritter their days away, learning fluffy, irrelevant things that will serve no practical purpose in the life they will lead outside of school. There's also the philosophical side of education, namely, the right worldview—or, better stated, how they view life.

In other words, they may or may not come out strong in academics, but if they come out weak in character, what's the point of school? I agree that the brunt of their moral development must come from the home, but when a child spends the better part of each day and each week outside the home, watch out for those influences that may work against the family. That, in a nutshell, is why many parents are turning to Christian schools or home education, namely, young people whose character is sufficiently well developed to benefit their family and society.

And as far as banning homework, when a child is educated at home, it's all, well, home work.

Piece of Mind: Down the Highway of Memory Lane

No summer has been complete for me these last few years without an annual August trip to BC. Last month was no exception, with the only exception was that I didn't go to Vancouver this time.

The occasion was a bittersweet one: My wife's parents celebrated their 60^th anniversary, but her mother is in such an advanced stage of dementia, I reckon she didn't have a clue as to who was there and why they came.

Another bittersweet memory was a provincial one: While my adopted home is Alberta, it was certainly exhilarating to see real mountains, trees, and lakes once more. Whether I could handle living in the likes of McBride or Hazelton year-round is another discussion.

The final bittersweet experience was the reverse discrimination I felt when I saw two prices for gas along the way—one was for those who were “status,” the other for those of us who were “non-status.” The latter was the more expensive one, of course, directed at any one who was not part of the First Nations culture, so-called.

I would be intrigued if that was done here in Alberta, only in reverse. Guaranteed there would be the usual fits, rants, and calls for boycotts.

Our itinerary took us close to Edmonton, then almost as west as possible along Highway 16. The folks live about an hour east of Prince Rupert, British Columbia, in a very inviting town called Terrace. Along the Yellowhead we dropped into Jasper for an ice cream cone. We had other reasons for stopping there: two little grand-kids under four need regular potty breaks, something I had forgotten from my own child-rearing days.

Jasper, Jasper, Jasper: What a breathtaking resort town! Some of the breathtaking was because of its beauty, some was because of its crowds. (Maurice: That's a quippy way of saying that there were so many people around us, the crush of the crowd took our breath away.)

The stint in Terrace with the relatives was a pleasant blend of hanging out by ourselves and doing select meals together. We pulled the longest straw (I guess) and got the cabin on the lake. Not a bad deal at all: Beautiful sunrise and sunset, rolling waves, more solitude than I am used to, and lots of chill time.

I have that here on the Back Thirty, except for the sunrise, sunset, waves, and chill time.

Terrace is itself an interesting study. Civilization has slowly come to its fair streets in recent decades—mostly in the form of its many fast-food outlets, big box stores, and WestJet. Other than that, not much has changed for the Terracites, er, Terra-ists—the loco locals—in thirty-plus years.

Because of a prior leadership commitment in an interior Bible camp, I had to fly out early to Vancouver, for a connecting flight to Kelowna, cutting short my loll at the lake. The airline conveniently placed me beside a little girl—a very talkative, motherless girl, that is-- for the duration of the trip to Vancouver. Must have been my grandfatherly appearance that made them select me.

To be precise, she was only motherless until her mother met her in Vancouver. You might say that I became the surrogate parent for the full 75 minutes, until I was able to “deliver” her to the real thing. I played games on her phone that I couldn't even spell, laughed at jokes I didn't even get, all the while pretending to bond with a girl I didn't even know.

A trip to BC must be planned with the utmost purposefulness. Getting the least expensive gas is likely the most demanding: Whenever I go to BC, I always fill up in Coleman, if I take Highway 3; Canmore, if I take Highway 1; and Jasper, if I take Highway 16.

I did the last one, but it took me a full tank to get there. The key for me was to fill up across the line and get as far as possible, or right in our own backyard, namely, in Bow Island, champions of the lowest gas prices for hours around.

When I finally connected with my wife and kids in Salmon Arm, to head back to Alberta, I was heading home. BC was a good memory, but it represents my past. There is a beauty in its natural landscape, but there is a deeper beauty in lifestyle and friendships here in Alberta. I know that sounds sappy but it's sincere.

Just wish there was a way I could have put the lakeside property on my roof rack and brought it home.