Happy New Year for the 62nd Time

The year 2008 has become a historical record.  I personally mark this as the 62nd new year for me.    I hope that I have learned some true things while taking this trips around the sun and at the risk of sounding trite or cliche-ish, here are a few of my observations about the year past.  

I celebrated the election of Barrack Obama.  Never in my lifetime, knowing the amount of prejudice and fear many folks of my generation and of the one before me, did I expect this to happen. I believe this event is a clear sign of hope for our future as a country and as a human race. God knows we need it!

I am appalled at our no end to greed. It has poisoned a world economic system. I don't see any end to it soon.  But in the suffering that will occur, the system will right itself.  Have we learned our lesson though? Or will we always chase the quick buck?  The scheme?

I celebrate each of my family member's individual accomplishments this year especially in overcoming obstacles and still remaining -- sometimes unreasonably -- positive. I have the most positive and uplifting family ever.  We occasionally stumble and fall, but then we get up. 

Not that you asked, but here is a list of people who touched me even though I never met or will ever meet andy of them:  Heath Ledger, Paul Newman, Randy Pausch, Tony Snow, Bobby Fischer, George Carlin, Charlton Heston, Tim Russert.  Some of these were courageous in a losing battles, some were brilliant but tormented, some were pretentious but left us with a greater knowledge, and some took us to places we'd never been. They all were teachers in there own ways.  All were human and flawed as humans will be. And all of them left a lasting impression on the world around them. 

I mourn over 4800 servicemen and women who died in Iraq and Afghanistan during the past 7 years.  We should spend special love and shoutouts go to the families of those who died in this nation's service. Their sacrifices speak out about their willingness to shoulder a serous responsibility during a point in history where it is the norm to shirk responsibility.  For young and old alike.  A hope for 2009: not one more pays the price.  

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A final note:  Aunt Myrtle died this year.  A good and kind soul. she was 94 years old whose mind was clear to the end.  She was a teacher. She always wrote to us every Christmas by hand and looked forward to news about her great niece and nephew (my daughter and son).   Is it coincidence that her life ended when a new one began in the family?  Her great grand niece (my granddaughter) is scheduled to make an appearance this coming April. 

Christmas Music and Other Anomalies

As we approach the year's end, here are some random thoughts you can stick around your celebratory conifer, if you have one, be it artificial, real or imagined.

The humanist movement is growing. In case you have not kept up, atheists, agnostics and other doubting Thomas's are turning to a new ethics code called "humanism." While they have decided that while they don't believe in a rewarding afterlife, they pledge to live life as if they did. 60 such Humanists gathered in Horsham, PA, on Dec 23 not to celebrate a religious holiday, but only for the Winter Soltice. I think this same bunch of guys were called Druids back in the day.

Happy Holidays? Just try it, buster! There is a new corporate ethos that recognizes there are those who don't believe in holidays of any sort. So, we employees are careful in choosing to offer any good wishes in the context of any holidays. This leaves us with the the highly sanitized "Have Good Day."  P.S. I think if someone doesn't celebrate holidays, they ought to come in to work. :-)

Actually, I can understand why people don't celebrate holidays. For instance, the Songs of the Season are enough to make one yak if heard too often. There was a time when I really couldn't stand to hear another version of Frosty or Sleigh Ride or Rockin' Round the Christmas Tree.  

But now I think the aging process has killed some of the brain cells where I stored that that type of thinking.  I've come to find them relaxing.  I especially like Ave Maria, The Prayer, and even the religious O Holy Night.  And so, it is particularly curious that when I brought home some new, very relaxing Christmas Music, my Bose entertainment system broke this year.  Not only do I have to mail it in to get service in just 3-4 weeks, 6 of my favorite Holiday music disks are jammed in it.  Ho. ho. ho.

For Dying Out Loud

This is the age of living out loud. Reality TV. Facebook. MySpace. Twitter. It is a time of ending relationships via a MySpace posting. Of virtual online romances breaking up marriages. Party pictures on FaceBook leading to career damage. You may have lived it.

Everyone who has ever worked on a newspaper or reads one knows that the obituaries follow a formula. Name, age, hometown, those left behind, job, memberships, service record -- that's pretty much it. And I've always thought that was pretty much what we should know.

I mean, look any human life of any years is, well, human. Everyone has done things they are ashamed of, or made mistakes they really don't want to talk about.  But unless you are a celeb or a politician, your dirt gets buried with you. Not anymore.

An old Air Force buddy recently sent me an obit from his big city paper that has taken the next step in living-out-loud movement -- tell-all real-life obituaries of the average joe. This special series is called "Tribute." And keep in mind that the family volunteers their loved one to be featured this series.

The particular "Tribute" he sent was on the life of an Air Force pilot who flew combat missions in Vietnam. This must have been the "tribute" part of his life.

The rest goes downhill. The tribute notes years of hard drinking, failure to hold a job, decades of estrangement from the family. Finally, during the last 10 years, a reunion of sorts. Redemption? Not quite. The son points out "he continued to be hampered by alcoholism and health issues even during the final years."

Another son points out that "for the first time in a long time, he would've been proud during his military funeral." Proud? He had to die to be proud? 

The memories offered from his grandchildren is that they looked forward "to his Christmas gifts." Hmm. What kids wouldn't look forward to those? Faint praise indeed.

The best thing his wife could say about him is "being a pilot was his absolute goal in life." She also pointed out that when she met him he was the social chairman of his fraternity and very outgoing. Considering the rest of his life as described by the family, I am pretty certain these were NOT compliments.

Why is this poignant to me? Small world. I knew this man in college -- he was a couple of years ahead of me at Rutgers and in Air Force ROTC, as I was. I vaguely remember the face and name but can't say l many direct interactions with him.

Since the last time I saw him in 1966, he lived a lot of years and apparently most of them not well. I am saddened that he lived his life in such a way that his family can't even forgive him in death. I am saddened that obituaries are written like this one.

The man's standard obit would have been enough for me. I would rather imagine a whole life lived within those mileposts knowing there were many, many bumps in the road.

A resident of Kansas City, he died at age 65 after years of poor health. He is survived by 2 sons and a daughter, and four grandchildren. He served as a pilot during the Vietnam conflict and flew 169 missions, for which he won many medals for bravery. He retired from the Air Force as a Major with 21 years service. R.I.P. I hope his family can find peace as well.

I think living out loud should be a choice only the living make.

The Gift

Open Letter to Service Men and Women

It's December 1970. I am part of the Disaster Recovery Team on 24 hour call on this Air Force Base in the middle of nowhere.

This is my first Christmas away from home. I am lonely and over 1,000 miles from where I know where Christmas is really happening. It's sure not happening here. It's not snowing and it's not even cold. There is no one to eat dinner with, there are no parties to go to.  Most of my new buddies were able to get leave.

On Christmas eve, I sit by myself in my sparse base quarters. There are no presents under the tree. There is no tree in my room. Nothing to open tonight or tomorrow morning because I immediately unwrapped gifts from home as I received them weeks ago. So I find myself on my own and dejected. I feel the world has forgotten about me.  It is at this lowest point, there is a knock on my door.

Lo and behold. An Air Force nurse -- someone who I have known only for a short while-- presents me a small wrapped holiday gift. Embarassed because I have nothing for her, I fumble with the wrapping, and open it --it is just a bottle of inexpensive cologne. I am deeply moved by this gift than more than any other I had ever received.

I cannot thank her enough. I remain grateful to this day for her kindness and her thoughfulness. I feel this event teaches me a valuable life lesson.

A gift doesn't have to be expensive -- or even has to be something the person wants -- to have remarkable impact on a life. It sounds corny, but the simple act of reaching out to touch someone in an unexpected way is truly a gift itself. Especially those who are alone and afraid.

Thanks to a  nurse named Joanne in Little Rock and a $5 bottle of cologne taught me I receive a gift I can never forget on my first Christmas away from home.

All I can offer you is the small gift of this absolutely true story. If you are in a place you don't want to be, and feeling all alone, I hope you can take comfort, as I once did, in the receiving or the giving of the the gift of a simple act of kindness. 

Robert W. T. Beardsley

Captain, USAF, 1970

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Postscript: A Christmas Past

From L to R:   Me (reclining in front of my future wife); Kay; Don; Joanne (the nurse who gave me the gift), Cookie (who married Don), another Bob (who I haven't kept in touch with) and Phil (I was the best man at his wedding).  Both Kay and Cookie have passed on way too soon, both leaving loving families and two children each behind. Don retired after 30 years in the AF and lives in California. He has remarried. Joanne and her children live with her husband, George, in Pittsburgh.