It is Columbus Day weekend in the US and Canadian Thanksgiving across the border. We both have a long weekend. I have observed this weekend that an awful lot of Canadians are not home eating turkey and pumpkin pie. They have driven into the US and are evident in our stores in large numbers.
Saturday I had reason to spend 2 hours at a table at the entrance to a department store in the local mall. I did not keep careful statistics, but I talked to nearly everyone entering the store, and my guess is that about 75% of the customers were Canadian. Today, I was at a store in one of the plazas near I-81, which runs straight to the Canadian border, and there were many, many Canadian license plates on the cars in the parking lot.
If you talk to these Canadian shoppers, you will learn that they save money by coming into the States to make purchases. Their sales tax is almost twice as high as ours. Many of these same Canadians brag about their government provided healthcare coverage. They do not understand how a civilized society, such as that in the US, can be so negligent in not providing universal coverage.
Hmmm....wait a minute here. Is it possible that they want universal coverage, but they don't want to pay the price?
As someone who has worked in the healthcare field and who has family members currently on government run programs, here are some things I know:
*the healthcare system in the US is broken.
*it is heart-breaking to meet people who need medical care they can't afford.
*those who are already covered by medical programs in the US frequently take advantage of the services in ways that are more expensive than necessary, because they aren't paying for it themselves..
*people in the US who have no insurance and self-pay, are charged more than those with insurance, since the insurance companies make agreements with healthcare providers.
*Canadians like their health care coverage.
*Canadians don't like their tax rate.
So, here you have plenty of material to start arguing either for or against universal coverage. But, one thing is clear, if we get universal coverage, and goods and services become more expensive as a result, we won't be able to save money by driving up to Canada to buy things.
And that is why many Canadians are not home eating turkey and pumpkin pie today.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Now Strengthen My Hands
They were all trying to frighten us,
thinking, “Their hands will get too weak for the work, and it will not be
completed.” But I prayed, “Now
strengthen my hands.” Nehemiah 6:9
So the wall was completed….our enemies lost
their self-confidence, because they realized that this work had been done with
the help of our God. Nehemiah 6:15,
16
Stepping out
of the fog of adolescence,
Embarking on
the maze of decisions,
Establishing
myself in the adult world,
Now
strengthen my hands.
Finding a
soul-mate and partner,
Committing
to love forever,
Learning to
live together,
Now strengthen
my hands.
Answering the
cries of an infant,
Running
after the toddler,
Instilling
values in the child,
Now strengthen
my hands.
Hanging on
for the wild ride,
Living
through teen years from the other side,
Providing
the platform from which they dive,
Now strengthen
my hands.
Watching
talents slip away with age,
Moving more
slowly and carefully,
Prioritizing
prayerfully,
Now strengthen
my hands.
Completing
the mission,
Reaching the
finish line,
Passing the
baton,
Now strengthen
my hands.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Alcestis by Euripides
At the rate I am going there is no way I will get through
all of the Great Book Series before I expire.
I am seriously considering skipping over the rest of the works of
Euripides. I don’t like his attitude
toward women. In two of his prior works,
he has expressed that it would be great if men could procreate without
involving women. In Alcestis, he
apparently concedes the necessity of women to bring about off-spring, but I’m
not so sure that he isn’t pleased with the notion of them dying shortly after
they accomplish this function.
Admetus has been doomed to die unless he can get someone to
take his place and go to Hades for him.
No one steps forward to do this.
He is miffed at his parents. They are old anyway….shouldn’t they be
willing to die for him? He says this in
so many words to his elderly father.
His dear precious wife, mother of his children, is the only
one who loves him enough to die for him.
A considerable part of the play is taken up with her taking leave of her
husband and children and bemoaning her fate.
She extracts a promise from Admetus that he will not remarry, because
she is concerned about how a stepmother would treat her children. He promises to remain true to her even after
she is gone. He will have an image of
her made and hold that in his arms.
Shortly after she actually dies, Hercules arrives on the
scene. He is on his way to accomplish
one of his Herculean tasks, and he is looking for lodging from his friend
Admetus. Admetus doesn’t want to be
inhospitable, so he doesn’t let on to Hercules that his wife his just
died. Hercules eventually figures out
that everyone is in mourning, and that he is being a bit too jovial for the
occasion.
Hercules manages to ambush Death and return Alcestis to her
home. However, she is not allowed to
speak for three days, and he presents her to Admetus veiled and without
explaining who she really is. Admetus repeatedly
refuses to take this woman into his home lest he be disloyal to his recently
deceased wife. Eventually he figures out
that it is his wife, and he is overjoyed.
Observations:
What a wimp! I thought men were supposed to protect their
wives. He seems to think it is just fine
if she dies for him.
Euripides apparently likes women either dead or unable to
speak.
His real point apparently is stated in the closing
paragraph: Many are the shapes that fortune takes, and oft the gods bring things
to pass beyond our expectation. That
which we deemed so sure is not fulfilled, while for that we never thought
should be, God finds out a way.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Music Fell on My Head
When my son was about two years old, he made a startling unsolicited statement. "You know Mommy, when I was in your tummy, I could not hear your voice, but music fell on my head."
I often sat down at the piano to play and sing during my pregnancy. I continued to sing in a choir and to sing solos during those months. But, this revelation left me speechless and full of questions.
Could he possibly be remembering something that happened before his birth?
Do all children have pre-birth memories, but most forget them before they are articulate enough to express them?
Was it possible that the vibrations he now knew were associated with music were familiar to him from the womb?
Twenty-six years later, I am still pondering these questions and others.
What happens if what falls on an unborn child's head is loud, angry and profane?
If a child does not have the vocabulary to express the negative vibrations he has experienced, does it come out in behavior?
How I wish that every unborn child felt soothing music fall on his or her head. Shouldn't every child emerge from the womb having already experienced a lullaby?
I often sat down at the piano to play and sing during my pregnancy. I continued to sing in a choir and to sing solos during those months. But, this revelation left me speechless and full of questions.
Could he possibly be remembering something that happened before his birth?
Do all children have pre-birth memories, but most forget them before they are articulate enough to express them?
Was it possible that the vibrations he now knew were associated with music were familiar to him from the womb?
Twenty-six years later, I am still pondering these questions and others.
What happens if what falls on an unborn child's head is loud, angry and profane?
If a child does not have the vocabulary to express the negative vibrations he has experienced, does it come out in behavior?
How I wish that every unborn child felt soothing music fall on his or her head. Shouldn't every child emerge from the womb having already experienced a lullaby?
Monday, September 17, 2012
Peanut Butter Sandwiches and Other Weapons
Periodically the peanut butter sandwich controversy rears
its head. I saw some online discussion
again today about a child whose PBJ was confiscated at a school which has a “no
PBJ” policy. One side complains that
this is an infringement on the right of a mother to lovingly make the sandwich
of her child’s choice. The other side
says that the sandwich is potentially life threatening to allergic children who
have a right to be safe at school.
As the mother of a son who grew up with life-threatening allergies
to milk, eggs, peanuts and tree nuts (e.g. walnuts, pecans), I see both sides
of this issue. It seems totally unfair
to declare that no child can have a peanut butter sandwich at school. It is a favorite that provides protein along
with the carbohydrate and fat, so it is a reasonable nutritious option. It is easy….a child can even make the
sandwich himself.
BUT
Some allergic children cannot even tolerate the odor of
peanut butter or the slightest accidental contact with it. Suppose the tables aren’t adequately wiped
after lunch and an allergic child eats in that spot at the next lunch hour? Suppose some mean kid decides it would be
funny to sneak a fragment between the bread slices of an allergic child’s
sandwich?
Some schools have a special table that is peanut free. That only works if the situation is
adequately supervised, and it doesn’t help the child who is allergic to foods
other than peanuts. I was concerned
about someone clowning around and shooting milk out of their straw in the
direction of my son. A splash on the arm
would have only caused a few hives, but had he gotten milk in his eyes it would
have been a different matter entirely.
As a teen he attended a graduation party where pizza was served. He did not eat any, but after the meal the
kids all went out and played basketball.
Most had not washed their hands.
The cheese residue from their hands was transferred to the ball and from
there to my unsuspecting son’s hands. As
he played ball, he wiped perspiration out of his eyes with his hands, and WHAM…he
was in a lot of trouble fast. On another
occasion, he was at an event where kids were building their own ice cream
sundaes. Two of the attendees picked up
aerosol cans of cream and started running around trying to shoot each other
with the cream. My son jumped up and ran
for the nearest exit lest he get caught in the crossfire. Adult supervision quickly stopped this
unauthorized warfare, but suppose my son hadn’t noticed what was going on and
had been an unintended casualty?
So what to do? I
solved a lot of the problem by homeschooling my son. It was not the primary reason I chose to
home school him, but it was a contributing factor. However, everyone cannot make this choice. Not all mothers possess the ability to
home school, or it may be financially necessary for both parents to work.
Certainly having a child who is educated about his/her own
allergy is helpful, but what if the child is too young to understand or not
mentally agile enough to comprehend the risk?
From the school’s perspective, if they allow PBJs, are they
committing to supervise the situation closely?
Are they going to adequately train the cafeteria monitors?
I am not in favor of banning peanut butter sandwiches.
I am in favor of education of teachers, cafeteria workers,
lunch monitors, and children….both the allergic and the non-allergic. Education about other disabilities is
included in the curriculum. Food
allergies are a significant disability.
I am in favor of careful attention by those supervising the
lunch room, so that out of control situations potentially dangerous to the
allergic child do not happen. Lunch monitors should know that maintaining order is essential to safety.
I am in favor of Benadryl and auto-injecting epinephrine
syringes being on site and available for use…even without a prescription
specific to a given child. If there is no
on site nurse, someone in the school must be trained to recognize the signs of
an allergic reaction and respond appropriately.
When a child goes into anaphylaxis, there is no time to stand around
trying to decide what to do.
No child should suffer death by peanut butter sandwich. No child should have to live with the notion
that his favorite sandwich killed his favorite friend.
Friday, September 7, 2012
No Remedy
The Lord, the God of their fathers,
sent word to them through his messengers again and again, because he had pity
on his people and on his dwelling place.
But they mocked God’s messengers, despised his words and scoffed at his
prophets until the wrath of the Lord was aroused against his people and there
was no remedy. II Chronicles 36:15-16
….and there was no remedy…the words
came screaming off the page at me when I read them recently.
No remedy for a terminal
illness. As a nurse, I have cared for a
child in continuous convulsions, dying of lead poisoning.
No remedy for destroyed relationships. I have seen gossip shred what had seemingly
been multiple loving friendships.
No remedy for broken china. There are items that I just haven’t been able
to super-glue back together.
What does it mean when God Himself
says there is no remedy?
It isn’t for lack of trying on His
part. He has repeatedly sent messengers,
who weren’t just passively ignored. They
were aggressively mocked. God is loving
and infinitely patient. He stands ready
to forgive. He is also righteous and
just. The time can come when His
holiness demands that He is angry at persistent defiant evil. And then….there is no remedy. The tipping point has been reached and
judgment falls like a cauldron of scalding oil.
However, historically God always
spares a remnant. No matter how
pervasive the evil in a society, a few who bow the knee only to the one true
God remain. When judgment comes some of
the righteous may be caught up in it along with the unrighteous….the rain falls
on the just and the unjust. But God
always has a plan. During the era these
verses in II Chronicles reference, Daniel was carried off to Babylon, made a
eunuch, and forced to serve the foreign monarch. But, what man intended for evil, God meant
for good. One of the things I find
fascinating is that even what is obviously the result of sin on the part of
human beings can be redeemed by God and fashioned into a key piece of His
master plan. There may be no remedy, but there is
always redemption available to anyone who wants it.
It may be too late for a remedy, but it is never too late for redemption.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Random Thoughts on My Trip to California
Some of the women on southern California beaches incorrectly
think they are still “California Girls” and squeeze their no longer lithe
bodies into scraps of fabric much too tiny.
The Computer History Museum in Mountain View is so
information dense that a couple of hours there are mentally exhausting. Those in charge of the exhibits should
consider that interactivity isn’t just for kids.
The guy next to me on one leg of the trip kept his tray
table down the entire flight with his hands under it although he had his eyes
closed and was possibly faking sleep.
His hands kept twitching under the tray in the vicinity of his crotch,
and I am not certain what he was doing under there. Can someone join the Mile High Club all by
himself?
The consignment store in Mountain View is filled with the
cast-offs of the well-off….some really excellent items.
My hair dries noticeably faster in Yorba Linda than it does
in upstate New York…..major difference in the humidity.
The salesman where I shopped with my son and daughter-in-law
for a sofa was the ideal salesman. He
was not pushy; he was informative; and he had a sense of humor. This was helpful since my son and
daughter-in-law must have tried out 70 sofas before reaching a decision. It was not yet noon when he informed us that
the store closed at 10 PM.
It is possible for two skinny men to lay in the shade of a
palm tree trunk….amusing, but possible.
My son does not live on a block…he lives on the edge of a
maze. I discovered this while trying to
walk around the block.
When I am severely tired and jet-lagged, my brain does
strange things. When we finally collapsed
into bed after a very long day, I began to drift off to sleep but was awakened
by the notion that I could not feel my right hand. My left hand was lying on top of it, but I
couldn’t feel it. As my foggy brain
tried to sort out the possibilities, I eventually figured out that my sleeping husband’s
hand was positioned across my abdomen, and it was his right hand, not mine,
that my left hand was touching. I was
relieved that I hadn’t lost feeling in my right hand, but a bit concerned about
the function of my brain.
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