Down with Bears in 2012!

I'd make a lousy politician, but that doesn't stop me from daydreaming about all the fun it could be to run a campaign. The campaigns I dawdle about, admittedly, are ridiculous.

I've joked before that I don't understand why predators are allowed to live among us. I'm not talking about sexual predators (a fine and easy target for your average politician), I'm talking about real predators like lions, or stealthy pumas, or giant black bears. Though I'm not sure bears are technically predators -- they're more like hairy fisherman -- they still can be pretty big and scary. Even the little cubs could stick a paw on you and leave some nasty scratches. In my opinion, the whole species is not to be trusted. We're right to put 'em behind bars in zoos. But, is that enough? I don't want to be an alarmist, but there's still a few roaming Ozarks' woods. Let the birds free I say, but lock up all the dang wolves and bears!

"Down with Bears in 2012!" could be my slogan. No one would vote for me. Then again, I don't want to be elected.

There are other things to be afraid of, of course. Like pigeons. I know I seemed pro-bird just a moment ago, but pigeons creep me out. All their cooing and fearlessness and germs. Something should be done. I like the idea of donning a military hat and ranting and raving from a pulpit about the dangers of pigeons. It's funny to me. 

These days, the things others say and think and feel and promote have been on my mind a lot. I'm sure the tornado in Joplin has had something to do with it. It's been all over the news, part of my work and seems to be dominating casual conversations.

I feel horrible, as so many people do, about the ones who died and the people who were injured, lost homes or were close to the ones that died. To think about what those most directly impacted have gone through is both deflating and disheartening. As a result of all that chaos, many in our area seem to be reflecting on the meaning of their own lives. Those who believe there is meaning. Some have used and will use the tragic event to reaffirm their own world views, regardless of whether those views have any objective merit.

Case in point: Topeka, Kan.-based Westboro Church is coming to Joplin to show support for tornadoes. The church's Web site, www.godhatesfags.com, believes, apparently, that God's wrath is both present in our everyday lives, and totally awesome! It's disturbing, of course.

I've heard and seen a lot of talk about God in connection to the EF-5 tornado since May 22. Most of it has been inspiring: People turning to God for strength; Citizens helping one another feeling compelled by their belief in a higher being and purpose; and mothers and fathers thanking God for what wasn't destroyed.

I get it. I understand why people believe in God, why they pray and why they come together when times are tough. I also understand why they wouldn't.

It's hard, but natural, to try to make sense out of something so brutal, mindless and destructive. The world is a scary place.

Happy Mother's Day!

The years go by, don't they? Today, I felt the sun penetrating a spring breeze and realized that my birthday is only about a month away. This summer, I'll take the fam on a quick trip or two, go swimming a few times, and then, before I know it, I'll be helping to pick out school clothes. Football and new shoes turns into Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Before long, the rains will bring back spring breezes.

These seasons are our fate. We're babies, then toddlers, then grandparents forever dancing and spinning around the sun.

As the summer of 1975 approached, my mother went into labor at the age of 20. From the pictures I've seen of her around that time she had long, dark hair and big glasses. She looks different now, but not too different, you know.

As a kid, what I remember most about my mother was that she was there. She was involved. She took me to my soccer games. She saved things I brought home from school.

I remember mom singing a lot. She was always very spontaneous, and very mobile. She was prone to unplanned trips to look at homes in neighborhoods we couldn't afford to move to for no reason after going to the grocery store or wherever. It's a trait I've noticed in myself as I get older. If I have time to take the long way home and turn up the radio, I do. She's the one who taught me how to drive. Now, I'm teaching Chase.

She lives in Iowa these days, but comes down to see me and my peeps, my brother and her friends three or four times a year. This last time she came down, she slept on the pullout couch she gave us. We played poker with the kids that night. She looked at a couple of my stories, and asked Val and I about work. I wonder how long it will be before Val and I are visiting our kids. I know mom really enjoyed it when our boys were still babies. We're already missing that ourselves. They're getting older.

I know what we have to look forward to. Summer's around the corner. Then fall. The long cold winter. And then it starts over.

Mothers know it, too.

That's why the good ones, like my mom, put school work on the fridges and band-aids on bruises. They come to weddings, and graduations. They pinch cheeks and take photos. They make our favorite meals. They play poker, and they ask about work.

Mom, we won't dance and spin around the sun forever. I'm old enough to know it now. Today, I just want you to know that I'm here for you. As life pushes us through the seasons, I'm here for you, too.

Love ya, mom.