When you look in the mirror, you are checking how you appear, what you seem to be, and whether it matches how you feel inside. Thinking about human nature is the equivalent of our whole species looking in the mirror to check it identity.
Human nature can be considered as the ways of thinking, feeling, and acting that are common to most people. It seems such a simple concept until you explore it. Just as we all react differently to our own reflections in the mirror, the reflection we call “human nature” is also often disputed.
Plato thought humans were rational, social animals.
Descartes expanded Plato’s ideas, describing people as “thinking spirits”.
Darwin said human life is experienced as a series of problems to be addressed and resolved.
Karl Marx believed human nature is revealed through the natural progression of history. He believed that history’s natural progress could lead humans to true freedom as they recognized the cultural and social factors that alienated them from their natural identity.
Thomas Hobbes and John Locke deeply considered the question, are humans naturally selfish and competitive? Marx and Émile Durkheim explored a different question, are humans naturally social and altruistic?
A broader problem is that of determining which apparently fundamental human dispositions and traits are natural and which are the result of some form of learning or socialization. In our nature, shared with other primates, the basic drives are related to food, sex, security, play, and social status.
I tend to take a rather dim view of human nature. My view is that people are naturally selfish, greedy, gluttonous, lustful, envious, quick to anger, and lazy (the cardinal sins). Parents work hard to train their children to overcome that nature, or if they don’t, then they should. Coincidentally, I also believe you shouldn’t get a dog if you aren’t willing to feed it, pick up after it, and keep it from causing trouble in the neighborhood. In my defense, I haven’t purposely gotten a dog since 1977. The rest just showed up.
My dim view of human nature has been reinforced by what I see society doing — not what we say, but what we actually do. Governments argue, behave badly within and without, and make war. They usually accomplish little at great expense. Business enterprises treat everything and everyone as commodities to be exploited and discarded. By expanding their influence in government, they concentrate wealth and disrupt the environment as a matter of course. They generally show little regard for their customers and even less for their employees.
Religions, for all of their lofty claims and bravado, consider their position of power and influence as above question. Behind all the causes of war (economic or territorial gain, nationalism, revenge, civil or revolutionary ideals) the root cause can all too often be identified as religious: beliefs, tribalism, and ultimately, self-righteous indignation.
What is self-righteous indignation? It is a certainty, especially an unfounded one, that one is totally correct and morally superior. Self-righteous indignation is anger driven by contempt.
A colleague once casually said to me, “fortunately, you are one of the righteous.” I had to correct him — I’m anything but righteous. I’m a sinner, covered by the grace of Christ and forgiven, but my nature is not righteous. Christ, I believe, instructs us to grow beyond our human nature.
The teaching of Jesus are hard and they go against the grain. It’s little wonder that we often don’t remember what He instructed or substitute our own interpretations instead. Jesus taught his disciples that they should aspire to these goals:
Self-Denial (turning from sin) — the world says to embrace and accept your “self”: get to know yourself, self-actualization, self-affirmation, self-awareness, self-efficacy, and, of course, self-love. Jesus said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”
Seek Humility — the world generally ignores humility, sees it as a sign of weakness or something for servants, while power and wealth are worldly virtues. Jesus said, “When you are invited to a wedding feast… take the lowest place at the foot of the table… for all those who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Be Just and Good — the world may talk justice, but justice for who? The world may value good, but is it a priority? Jesus said, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. This is the essence of all that is taught in the law and the prophets.”
Accept Rebuke — the world sees criticism as an attack and responds with anger and aggression. Jesus said, “Happy are those who are persecuted… if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek… you will be hated by everyone because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.”
Don’t Make Vows (Swear) — the world has us to take oaths, pledges, and make promises. How often to you hear “I swear to God” or “Swear upon the Bible.” Jesus said, “do not swear an oath at all: either by heaven or earth… do not swear by your head… simply say ‘Yes’ or ’No’… anything beyond this comes from the evil one.”
Be Generous — the world says “Charity begins at home”. There’s a popular social media post that says “I’ll send help to the refugees when the very last homeless veteran has been fed, clothed, and housed.” Why not just be honest and say, “I’m not willing to help refugees or veterans.” Jesus told us the parable of the Good Samaritan and also said, “Give to those who ask, and don’t turn away from those who want to borrow.”
Love and Serve Others — the world says “I”, “Me”, “Mine.” The leaders of this world have a tool to keep us in check: find a common enemy. Divide us. It’s “Us” against “Them”. Jesus said, “There is a saying ‘Love your friends and hate your enemies!’ But I say: love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you.” He told us that when we give food and drink to the hungry, clothe the poor and lowly, look after the sick, visit the imprisoned… we are doing those things to and for Him.
Pray in Earnest — the world makes a show of public prayer and televised prayer, to show how righteous and godly we are. Jesus said, “When you pray go into your room, close the door, and pray to your Father who is unseen…” He tells us not recite the same prayer over and over again… that your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.
Don’t Love Money — the world esteems visible wealth, high salaries, big houses, yachts, cruises, and admires the “successful” in obtaining the trappings of wealth: pursuit of money, love of money. Jesus said, “No one can serve two masters… you cannot serve both God and money.”
Trust God (Have Faith) — the world says, “To thine own self be true” not realizing what Shakespeare’s Polonius in Hamlet actually meant. We are taught to be self-reliant and esteem the man who “Pulls himself up by his own bootstraps” — what a vision that is. We love the story about the ant (who stores up for the winter) and the grasshopper (who occupies his time in the delights of summer). Jesus said, “Don’t be anxious about tomorrow. God will take care of your tomorrow, too. Live one day at a time.” He cautioned us that “If you cling to your life you will lose it: but if you give it up for me, you will save it.”
Don’t Judge — the world teaches us to judge at an early age and reinforces judgement at every step along the way. We see “winners” and “losers”, we make everything a competition, we feel superior to others, we alway strive “to get ahead” and not working about who we leave behind. Jesus said, “Don’t criticize, and then you won’t be criticized. Why worry about the speck in your brother’s eye when you have a board in your own?”
Seek Wisdom — the world values wisdom, but mostly as a tool to succeed. More importantly, the idea of wisdom is used to seduce you into investing, purchasing, or taking up a cause. “You’d be smart to use my product”, you want to “look smart, and “smart money”investments. We confuse the wise with the rich and powerful. Jesus said, “Beware of false teachers who come disguised as harmless sheep, but are wolves and will tear your apart.” He prayed, “Oh Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth, thank you for hiding the truth from those who think themselves so wise, and for revealing it to little children. For it pleased you to do it this way.”
Love God — the world may tell you that loving God is okay, but what does the world do? What does the world want you to do — how does the world show that love? By setting us upon each other, because, after all, “God is on our side”. “Human nature”, that’s often just a justification to something you want to do… something you know is questionable at best. “We were so disappointed with his actions, but I guess that’s just human nature.” It’s no wonder we think of ourselves as being good people, all the while putting these hard teachings aside. Jesus said, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and will all your mind.” That love is your compass. It sets your direction and determines your course of action.
Spread the Good News — the world… enough about the world! Jesus went up on the mountainside and sat down, gathered his disciples around him, and delivered the Beatitudes, talked about Salt and Light, about the Law… stating that He came to accomplish their purpose and He said, “Whosoever shall break one of these least commandments and shall teach men so, shall be the least in the kingdom of heaven: but whosoever shall do and teach them, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.”
Following these teachings of Jesus is not easy or natural. I don’t love with all my heart, mind, and soul. I fall short on every one of these teachings. On my own I can’t obey them, but with the grace of God it is possible. Jesus made our salvation possible. Thank Him for that. And then ask Him to help us in following His words. In showing the world that we can overcome our nature. We need to try.
We can’t ignore his teachings, setting them aside, or call ourselves “Christian” while we violate his purpose. We are instructed to pray, to embrace all these challenges, to act them out in our lives. Christ calls us to rise above human nature.
Younger people won’t remember full-service gas stations, but I remember when they put up a signs that directed customers to the “self-serve” pumps. It’s a weak analogy, I know, but I’d like to have a full-service nature instead of a self-serve one. I think that is what Jesus was saying.
When you are outside, being still, simply appreciating where you are, slowing down long enough to listen to the birds and frogs, feeling the breeze, and watching the seasons change, do you often find yourself wondering what it was like to be here long ago? Who lived in this place? What would you have seen here 100 or 1000 years ago? What forces have shaped the land and how was life sustained? Will someone sit here in 10,000 years and contemplate what was happening today? I think about this often.
Maybe that’s what fuels my fascination with Native American and Pre-Colombian artifacts. I paint watercolors of statues, ceramics, and architecture from the collections of museums. So anytime I have a chance to visit a site or tour a museum, I can’t pass it up.
Negative Painted Bottle, from Spiro Mounds Exhibit at Western Heritage Museum
Such was the motivation of my stops on my recent motorcycle road trip, astride my near antique 1998 Honda Valkyrie. There just aren’t enough opportunities (or sufficient funding) for bike trips. Truth is, at my age they have morphed into motel and restaurant tours which definitely increases the expenses.
Day 1 (May 24): Konawa, OK to Vilonia, AR
325 miles
Our family gathered in Vilonia for a memorial service and I chose to use this trip as the catalyst for a road trip adventure. I left my home in Konawa with 40,320 on the odometer (all such data in this writing are approximate or a best guess) and took Hwy 9 through Eufaula and 271 through Spiro, Oklahoma. In Arkansas, I took Hwy 64 which parallels I-40. Interstate highways are something I avoid, but once I a while I’m forced onto. Since I left home late and wanted to arrive before dark, I didn’t stop for anything but gas. Poor vision and the exploding deer populations have put an end to night rides for me.
Lack of time forced me to omit a stop at Spiro Mounds which was sad, but not a complete disaster since I’d been there before and had also recently seen the Spiro exhibit at National Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City.
Several small towns along Hwy 64 were tempting me to explore: Altus and Coal Hill were very quaint. Somewhere in the the I spotted a “Regular Baptist Church”, which I had not heard of before – interesting to read about. The approach of nightfall forced me onto the interstate at Clarksville. Yuk.
Once in Conway, very near my destination, I stopped to call for directions and saw a number of homeless people in front of Starbucks and Subway near the interstate. Didn’t expect that, but I guess I should have.
Day 2 (May 25): Vilonia, Arkansas
0 miles
This day was spent with family.
Day 3 (May 26): Vilonia, At to McGehee, AR
328 miles
The mound at Parkin Archeological Site.
On the road again. First stop: Parken Archeological Site, my second visit there. A good place to get off the saddle and walk a little, looking at the mounds and old school. At the confluence of the St. Francis and Tyronza rivers, site is significant because of the Mississippian culture mounds and a sawmill community established here in 1902. The staff is friendly and there’s a nice exhibit. It’s suspected that this was the location Hernando de Soto visited in 1541 and described as the province of Casqui. If you ever passing through eastern Arkansas and want a place to rest and soak up some native history, visit their little museum and then follow the path out back to a bench under a shade tree and close your eyes. Image being here a 500 years ago when the Mississippian community was thriving – or 100 years ago when the sawmill community drastically changed the landscape. After exploiting all the hardwoods east of the Mississippi, lumber barons moved west to devastate forests in the rest of the continent and Parkin was a convenient place to establish a sawmill, using the two rivers to float the logs.
The old Valkyrie at Parkin.
A few miles on to Marion, Arkansas, and I reach the Great River Road. Which way do I go? Short trip or long trip? North or south? For no particular reason I head south and plan on crossing at Vicksburg.
Stepping off on the Great River Road and deciding to head south.
I have never had anyone tell me they have driven the Great River Road and I’m already starting to see why: it’s all kind of a blur of plowed fields, millions of acres of corn and rice fields, center pivot irrigation systems, and crop dusters. I was going to stop at New Madrid (epicenter of the largest recorded earthquake in North America), but I guess I was in a corn haze and just didn’t. There were a few miles of interesting places along horseshoe lakes (oxbow), but the corporate agriculture was overwhelming. I eventually realized that Vicksburg was a too distant goal for the day and gave in to weariness at McGehee, Arkansas. Got a decent motel room and ate blacken catfish at Hoots. Some kind person anonymously paid my check. Hmmm. Time to leave a good tip and get some rest. I’m already saddle sore.
Day 4 (May 27): McGehee, AR to Vicksburg, MS and up to Millington, TN
380 miles
I left McGehee while it was still dark, grabbed a donut and hit the road. While passing an RV Park along the river I spotted a sunrise view that I just had to photograph.
An interesting discovery as I passed from Arkansas into Louisiana was the town of Transylvania. I bought gas at the Farmhouse Restaurant from the oldest working gas pump I’ve seen in decades. The post office, water tower, and abandoned school there have undoubtedly been photographed by every tourist whose passed through town.
It’s about time for an oil and filter change and Google told me that Cannon Honda in Vicksburg was a motorcycle dealership. It’s not. The next opportunity is in Memphis and I wondered if they’d be open when I got there. Or if I’d get there. I know there are lots of things to see and do in Vicksburg, but I’ve been here a couple of times before. This trip’s about paying respect to the ancient ones along the Great River Road (GRR)and I continue along it.
Here’s where I started missing opportunities. The Mississippi Mounds Trail is a self guided tour of more than thirty mound sites. I did not know this and I just drove right past. I saw some signs, but didn’t understand. Someday I’ll go back.
So it gets pretty interesting when the GRR route in Mississippi takes to the top of the levees. A few miles north of Vicksburg, the designated route leaves Hwy 61 and turns back south on 445 taking you closer to the river. There are a few nice lake communities to see, lots of crop land, and not many gas stops. But then there’s some “Road Closed 14 Miles Ahead” signs, cattle guards, and construction work going on. Big earth moving equipment. But I look at the map a bit and realize I’m pretty committed at the point, so… what’s the worst that can happen? Let’s go see.
As promised, in 14 miles the pavement ends and there are some work trucks parked in the road. So like any dumb tourist would do, I pull up to the guy in the truck and say, “So does the road just dead-end ahead or is there a way through?” He tells me there going to be miles of rough gravel, but I can make it. He’s right on both counts, but let me tell you – there’s places where the Great River Road isn’t that great.
Not the greatest portion of the Great River Road in Mississippi.
Later on, still on the not so well designated but at least paved GRR route, I realize I haven’t seen another car or truck (certainly no motorcycles) in a long time and I need a break. There’s no shoulder so I stop on the road, get off, take off my gloves and helmet to stretch and walk a while. Really saddle sore. Then my cell phone rings, which is surprising since there has been any signal for a while. It’s my son, Tsegaye, and we have a nice chat catching up on events at home. This is the last time I saw my riding gloves. I hope someone found them and gets some use out of them. They were really good gloves.
So I make the motorcycle shop in Memphis in plenty of time. Even though the sign in the service department says they are scheduled six to eight weeks in advance, they drop everything and work in an oil change for a traveler and I get a little rest. This is one of the nice things about motorcycle shops: they almost always go out of their way to support the traveler.
Ribs at Rendezvous in Memphis is a required stop on any crossing of the Mississippi.
Next stop: ribs and beer at Rendezvous on 2nd Street in downtown Memphis. But now I’m tired, really tired, and it’s looking rainy, so I only make it to Millington. Have I mentioned being saddle sore? Another motel and shower and I’m done for the day.
Day 5 (May 28): Millington, TN to Collinsville, IL
350 miles
It’s a rainy morning. I’m eating breakfast at I-Hop and I get my second phone call. This is weird, because I can go months without any calls (except for Karen with automotive services center, whose records show the my vehicles extended warrant is about to expire). This time the call is from an old high school friend from that I haven’t seen in decades. His son is motorcycle racing in Oklahoma and he thought it would be a good time to get together. And it would be if I was in Oklahoma. But I’m at IHop drinking coffee and not even sure what state I’m in.
So, on down the twisty road and I’m in Kentucky looking for Wickliffe Mounds State Park, where I meet the staff, pay my $6, walk around and look at their exhibit. Really, it’s sort of a sad history of your all too typical grave-robbing business man. Even his collection of artifacts was robbed (or would that be re-robbed?) in 1988 and never recovered. So I got to see replica replacements. This is where I notice the missing gloves.
Wyckliffe Mounds State Park in Kentucky.
Back on the GRR, I cross the mighty Ohio River and land in Cairo. From this point on I’m determined to make it to my daughter, Sarah’s house. So, in her infinite wisdom, Siri decides to throw me a few misguided directions to see if she can add some miles and minutes to my trip. Of course she can. Not to mention some unnecessary Interstate experiences – like having a couple of teenage girls, driving a red car in the rain with their windows down, change into my lane before they’ve passed me… at 70 miles per hour. Nevertheless, I get to Sarah’s house tired, sore, but unscathed and we have pizza.
Day 6 (May 29): Collinsville, IL
0 miles
Soulard Farmers Market.
Sarah was kind enough to spend the day with her dad. She drove me to St. Louis where we visited the Soulard Farmers Market, witnessed the conclusion of a dedication service for new priests at the St Louis Basilica before viewing the inside, ate tacos in the hipster district, and then walked through the Missouri Botanical Garden. Wow. Full day. I had to sit down and rest a lot at the garden. Thank you for spending the day with me, Sarah. Thanks, Michael, for making that possible.
Day 7 (May 30): Collinsville, Illinois to Burlington, Iowa
Approximately 325 miles
Cahokia Mounds in Illinois. The pinnacle of the Mississippian culture.
Even though I’ve been to Cahokia Mounds a couple of times before, I wanted to go again. Since it was Sunday and Memorial Day weekend, I figured it wasn’t going to happen. But I was wrong – they were open and I got there just in time for a walking tour of the mounds. The young park service tour guide was very friendly and knowledgeable. He shared a lot of information about the site, the Mississippian Culture, and the native flora that I had not heard in my previous visits. So I took the walk, toured the museum, but didn’t climb Monks Mound this time because my knees hurt. Then I hooked up again with the Great River Road.
A house in the narrow village of Elsa, Illinois, on the Mississippi.
Between Alton and Grafton you pass The Village of Elsah. It’s one of the spots that I’m glad I stopped at. There was a community music hall and a gallery, every little house was so well maintained, it just looked like a cool place to hangout.
So far this trip has been without other motorcycles. Heck, a lot of it has been without traffic of any kind. But then you finally get to a stretches of road with good pavement, a splendid view of the river, and some curves, like between Alton and Grafton, Illinois — suddenly motorcycles are everywhere. Everybody’s lookin’ all badass and burly, but if you notice their plates and talk ‘em up, they’re really just on short day trips and buzzing bars and restaurants. Very, very few are toting any gear. What impresses me far more was seeing bicyclists on the MRT (Mississippi River Trail). More about that later on.
The Load Docks in Grafton was loaded on Memorial Day weekend.
There was a place in Grafton (The Loading Docks) where I had eaten with Sarah on a previous trip. We had been there around lunchtime on a weekday, the food was good and the river view was great. But now it’s Memorial Day weekend and it’s ridiculously crowded, there zero masks or social distancing (COVID-19) and I take a pass. I don’t care much for being in a crowd anyway. So a little further up the road I find O-Jan’s Fish Stand. Far more local color, great catfish and a couple Busch beers in the bottle. If you eat at a picnic table on the deck you’ll see the Grafton Ferry Landing. While waiting for my order I got to met an elderly (about my age) man who had been a roofer in Mississippi. He said “You know what I did when I retired? Kept on roofin!” He said roofing seemed like a great job when your daddy had been a sharecropper.
Look close and you’ll see the ferry crossing from Grafton, Illinois, to St Charles, Missouri, as seen from O-Jan’s Fish Stand.
As I was eating my lunch I got another phone call. This time for another old high school friend who was sharing the sad news that one of my best friends from those days just passed away. So I ate my fish, drank my beer, watched the river rolling south, and thought about how short life is. This is an area they call The Bluffs– very scenic with vertical rock outcroppings near the river banks.
Back in the saddle heading north. I remember the road was nice near Nauvoo, Illinois, and the day trippers started to thin out. What is it about loud pipes? I know I’m old, but I value what’s left of my hearing and don’t care a whit about trying to impress anyone with biker bravado.
A scene on the Great River Road just south of Nauvoo.
Sometimes any excuse for a break is a good excuse, so I stopped for a drink at Chick’s On The River at Quinton and talked a bit with local bikers and had the day’s special – a Bloody Mary, probably my fist on in thirty years. It included a lemon wedge, a lime wedge, a wood skewer holding four giant green olives, a dill pickle wedge. I wish I’d have taken a picture, but that didn’t seem appropriate while bonding with macho bikers. There were some nice pull offs just south of Nauvoo.
Nauvoo State Park.
Anyway, I decided I’d had enough for the day and crossed over to Burlington for the night. I notice my stops are getting more frequent and it’s getting a little harder to dismount each time. I’m getting between 30 and 40 miles per gallon which isn’t great for a motorcycle, but that’s the price of six cylinder power and I don’t mind frequent stops anyway. Have I mentioned being saddle soar?
Day 8 (May 31): Burlington to La Crosse
375 miles
I left Burlington later than my usual departure time because I slept late. I’m not used to curtains. After crossing the river back to the Illinois side, I found a covered bridge on Henderson Creek between Gladstone and Oquakaw. The Henderson County Covered Bridge was built in 1866, but I guess it wanted to see the world and in 1982 it headed downstream. Not getting very far, it was apprehended by the locals, disassembled and built back on the original site but three feet higher to prohibit future escapes.
Inside the Henderson County covered bridge.
A little further north I glimpsed a collection of gas station antiques that justified a U-turn. The people who lived here had assembled a significant collection of last century artifacts. They were, in their own way, paying respects to the ancestors. Then at Keithsburg a couple of derelict buildings seemed to be crying out for attention. A lot of us like to see old stuff, but it takes a lot of resources to make them last. I saw lots of places that were beyond restoration.
A great collection just north of Oquawka, Illinois.
After crossing the Rock River on my way into Rock Island, I followed 18th street to Sunset Park and Potter Lake for a butt break and stretch (saddle sore, remember) where I enjoyed talking to a local fisherman and watching people enjoy their lives. This trip was just barely post-pandemic and the scene here was both refreshing and encouraging.
Galena, Illinois.
Galena is a pretty town, but crowded and touristy, where I finally found a place to park and walked a bit. Okay, I walked a lot and climbed too many steps. But I enjoyed a conversation with a man about my age who was taking a break while his wife shopped. I was sitting on a bench eating some kind of fancy ice cream. It was amusing to see waiters hustling to serve customers at an outside “wine bar” and quietly keep the riffraff from settling at their tables. Break is over, back to the road.
LaCrosse, Wisconsin.
So many of the towns had names I’d heard all my life, sometimes duplicates of more well known cities, and many names from railroad lines, like Rock Island, or farm equipment, like Moline. When I was still twenty or so miles south of LaCrosse, it began to look a little stormy in the north and I found a nice pull off to find my rain gear. There was already another biker there with the same idea so we chatted as we donned pants and jackets, sharing experiences and information. He lived in La Crosse and was just out for a day ride. Friendly and experienced traveler he was. Somehow I made it to LaCrosse. It was raining a little as I unpacked and found lodging downtown. As dusk arrived the rain departed and I walked a few blocks to a restaurant/bar and had a good meal and beer. It was interesting to watch the downtown activity as I walked. I was feeling very far from home.
Day 9 (June 1): La Crosse, Wisconsin to Davenport, Iowa
245 miles
You could take a much shorter and faster route between any of the towns on my trip, but efficient routing isn’t what scenic byways or motorcycle trips are about. They are the road less traveled – the road worth traveling. The destination or the trip, which is it that pulls you from your door?
The next morning it was evident there had been a good deal of rain during the night, so I dried off my ride and took an unusually long time getting packed back up. After a brief ride looking around the urban area (all American cities are beginning to look alike to me) I crossed the bridge in Minnesota. It was a surprising distance across Barron Island into La Crescent as the river still holds a solid claim to surrounding real estate. After fueling up I found Kady’s Kafe, getting there just in time ahead of the morning crowd, and thoroughly enjoyed a breakfast and coffee. This seems like a friendly little town.
Immaculate Conception Church between Lansing and Harper’s Ferry, Minnesota.
The drive south was scenic indeed – twisty, hilly, sprinkled with river views, and pull offs with informative plaques. Honestly, I love this part of the Great River Road. After I got away from town there was no traffic at all and had lots of great stops occupied only by myself and redwing blackbirds intent on keeping it that way.
A few miles south of Harper’s Ferry the Great River Road abandons the river entirely for a while and just as you feel all the good views are over it turns back East and rejoice the mighty Mississippi at Effigy Mounds National Monument. Although the visitors center building was closed due to COVID-19, the hiking trail here is open. There are many miles of hiking trails here going north and south, but I thought I’d just try enough on the north end to see the little bears mound, the great bear mound, and Fire Point Scenic Vista.
A view of the Mississippi River from Effigy Mounds National Monument in Minnesota.
I started this trip with a bum knee, otherwise I might have made the seven mile loop to Hanging Rock. So off I go and I promise you the trail is wide and well maintained, but steep – especially at the start. There are switchbacks, wood and cable railing, but the sides are very steep and treacherous in places. So I was likely looking very winded. There weren’t many other hikers this day. First I met a fine family that I took to be Mennonites or Amish by their clothing, but that just a guess. They were, at the least very hardy hikers in my view – especially the children. Next I saw a couple about my own age or a little older. The husband encouraged me with the news of a bench in the shade just around the next bend and I wished them well. Apparently that was of no use because just a few seconds after resuming my climb I heard the terrible sound of the old gentlemen hitting the ground – hard. I returned as quickly as I could to offer what aide I was capable off. He had a good start on disaster since he had fallen off the trail under the cable. Luckily, one arm has fallen over the cable and he was snagged at the armpit. I joined him on the slope below the cable and encouraged him to stay where he was until we could make sure nothing was obviously broken. A few minutes later he caught his breath and told his wife and I that he was okay (which I doubted) and I stepped over the cable with him to help him back to the trail and then to stand. After waiting a few minutes, they made their way back to the parking lot. He had tripped on the edge of a rock protruding the mulch that covered the trail.
Great Bear Mound.
So what do you see at a Mississippian mound site? Basically a grass covered hill if it’s being well tended. If not, you likely wouldn’t notice a thing.
You meet some great people on a road trip. While I was at the Effigy Mounds National Monument I met some folks from Iowa City who were on a vacation with their granddaughter. Turns out this young lady is an artist and we had a nice conversation about art, careers, and the pursuit of dreams.
I had to stop off at Le Claire and at least take a picture at the Antique Archeology store (of the “American Pickers“ television show). I knew it would be closed, but such is life.
Too late again! I guess I’ll never meet Danielle.
Day 10 (June 2): Davenport, Iowa, to Washington, Missouri
360 miles
I remember leaving Davenport as early as possible, because I didn’t really care for the motel. It looked like it might rain again as I found my way back to the river road. After a short drive close to the river, I came to Buffalo, Iowa, and found Clark’s Landing a genuinely good place for breakfast. As I drank my coffee and waited for my breakfast I listened in on the conversation of three local fellows discussing the cost of tractor parts and how the school calendar impacts the availability of labor. Breakfast helps. It’s pretty nice driving along the river and railway.
Worth a thousand words.
I stopped again at Muscatine, Iowa, to take some photos. And started noticing that flat spot on my rear tire again. Several years ago I was riding through the Mark Twain National Forest in Missouri and had to drive quite a ways on a newly resurfaced highway (chip and dip) where the gravel ate away my tire like a cheese grader. At my next fill-up I checked the tires and saw threads showing through. This is unnerving and to be avoided. On that trip I was lucky to be near (20 miles) a motorcycle shop and was able to have a new tire installed the next morning. The shop owner even gave me a ride to a motel and picked me up the next morning. But this trip i am not going to push my luck. It’s time for a tire.
“The Pathfinder” is a vessel of the US Army Corp of Engineers, seen here docked at Clarksville.
This river road is very scenic on this stretch of southern Iowa. When I got back to Burlington I checked around for a Honda shop or any shop to get the right size installed, but after a few calls it looked like I’d have to get down to the Honda dealership in Keokuk at the Southeast tip of Iowa. All of the shop are booked weeks ahead for repairs, but they are generally very accommodating to the travelers and this one was too. I spent a couple of hours or so there and was back on my way with a new rear tire. Don’t take up motorcycling unless your willing to shell out some big bucks on maintenance.
Next stop, Hannibal, Missouri – of Mark Twain fame. The river road is a few blocks away from the river in Hannibal, so after exploring a bit downtown, I find Main Street and get off for a while to have a beer and walk around. I love this town. When I think of the Mississippi, this is it. I’d love to stay a week in Hannibal. I found Lydia’s Cabinet of Curiosities and was blown away by the selection of paintings on the walls. The proprietor, Gordon, was so informative and knowledgeable that I could have stayed all day. I remember he said “I like art more than money”. Me, too. I can’t say enough good things about this place. Go there, or at the very least follow their Facebook page.
Lydia’s Cabinet of Curiosities in Hannibal, Missouri.
My last piece of the Great River Road wound around hills and woods and farmland until I turned off towards Troy on Missouri State Hiway 47 just past the town of Winfield. As is my way, I took a convoluted path, missing a few turns, until I finally wound up in Washington, Missouri, for the night.
As I crossed the Missouri River I caught a glimpse of the old town waterfront a few blocks to the west, but I was tired and looking for a lodging. So I’m checking in at the Super 8 Motel a bit before dark and the clerk asked me (like they always do) to provide the make and model of my vehicle. For some reason, I asked him what he does if the guest arrives on a bicycle. He said he wasn’t sure if they’d ever had any bicyclists check in, but they could probably skip that part of the registration form. So I park my bike, find my room, and pass through the lobby again on my way outside and, what do you know… here’s two guys on bicycles checking in.
Wesley and Schlomo on their way to California.
I meet two amazing travelers, Wesley from Milwaukee and Schlomo from Greenbay (if I remember correctly), who are taking a couple of months to trek out to California and back. Their destination is San Francisco. It’s so amazing to me that people are in such great physical shape and are so motivated to do such things. Ride on. We talk about our trips for a while, take photos of each other, and Wesley says, “if we don’t see you in the morning, let me wish you safe travels.”
Day 11 (June 3): Washington, Missouri to Konawa
500+ miles
Before I left Washington, I wanted to go back to the downtown riverfront and take a photo or two – basically get a feel for one of the many interesting places that I will probably never see again.
True Wahitonians.
This morning the riverfront was just as beautiful as it appeared to be from the highway bridge last night. I parked in the nearly empty parking lot, read the history sign, walked around a bit and struck up a conversation with an elderly (my age) man who was sitting at on of the many picnic tables under the pavilion. After answering his questions about my sojourns, he told me that he was born and raised in Washington and would never live anywhere else. He told me a little about his children and grandchildren. I remember the one of his sons was a very successful banker in Boston. I was about to take my leave when a second gentleman walked up carrying a coffee cake. Introductions were made and a slice of cake was offered and accepted. Good cake. It turns out this fellow was another “true Washitonian”.
I soon took my leave and was approaching my bike when several cars and pickup pulled in together and a very similarly age troop of men emerged heading to the pavilion. As I walked past I offered greeting and was briefly engaged in conversation with a few of them. I quickly learned that each one of them (total of maybe a dozen) were lifetime Washington resident. I think I met the core of the community. It’s both amazing and wonderful to me that people can connect so thoroughly and successfully with a town. That’s a bit rare today. My family moved several times during my childhood seeking opportunity and a good fit. In my adulthood, I’ve moved my on family around for the same reasons. I’m glad I did, no regrets, but to have that hometown connection and lifelong friends is truly wondrous.
Washington, Missouri.
I parked again downtown for a walk around and met a nice fellow who was doing the morning prep at his bar in a beautiful old brick building. He asked where I was headed next. I wasn’t completely sure, but maybe Route 66.
Back on the road I made it about ten or fifteen miles when I passed my bicycle friends. We exchanged big waves and the morning was damp. It seemed to have just rained ahead of me most of the morning, by I never got a soaking. I wasn’t even wearing my jacket. I passed a gnarly auto accident after waiting for traffic to clear. I hope no one was hurt and I’m also glad I delayed my departure. Thank you again Lord.
Next stop: St. Claire, Missouri. Back in August of 2017, my family had chosen St. Claire as our spot to witness the total eclipse of the sun. That day was an amazing and somewhat crowded festival celebrating the Universe doing its thing. I thought I’d go back and eat breakfast there at Lewis Cafe. It was much more normal this time in St. Claire and the breakfast was good. I met a couple of bikers there from some club in Chicago who said they’d been rained on all morning. I told the waitress about my previous visit and they asked me to post some pictures on their Facebook page. I sent them a message with the link.
Lewis Cafe in St Claire, Missouri.
Now you have to understand that I’ve accumulated quite a weariness from the trip by now. But I did give Route 66 a shot. Probably 3 or 4 hours of really bumpy, poorly marked road and I finally gave up. I mean, I saw some interesting things from the old Route, but overall it was pretty depressing seeing the state of decay and burned out motels. I guess I was ready to get home. This last day I drove over 500 miles – way too much of it on the Interstate. But I made it home before dark.
Total trip: 3,163 miles
So, that’s my story of The Great River Road and the mounds of the Mississippian culture. After spending the better part of a year in isolation from the COVID-19 pandemic it was reviving to hit the road. Ive always loved to travel, but getting another chance to absorb the present moment and see the country side means more than ever now. This trip combined a mindfulness of the present with an experience with the past.
Reading about the people who lived here long ago and viewing artifacts in museums is helpful, but visiting these mound sites makes the experience meaningful. This trip, for me, was paying homage to the ancients. There was tragedy to come and the story continues today. I’m just glad to have had the opportunity to experience a small part of their story.
Time for a big rest.
If you read this story to the end… wow. I’m impressed. Please leave a comment.
I’m an old man, relatively speaking. What that means, among other things, is that I’ve accumulated a lot of experiences and some of my faculties are less reliable than they once were. So before I forget, I have a story to tell. It’s an important story and one that members of my family should know, but I’m not sure I’ve ever told them. It has to do with the meaning of names and how life plays out…
My name is Marvin Thomas Smith. I’ve never really felt comfortable with my name and I’m not sure why. Marvin is the part that never felt just right. My dad’s name was also Marvin, but my parents always called me Tommy when I was young. “Marvin” means “the mariner” and associates the named person with the sea. As I write this I’m in Navarre, Florida, listening to the waves on the Gulf of Mexico pounding on the shore at 3:00 in the morning. I’ve spent all of my life on land, far from the sea. I like the ocean but it is very foreign to me and I can’t swim worth a damn.
I shortened “Tommy” to just “Tom” when I was in high school. I don’t recall how I accomplished that, other than introducing myself to people that way and hoping it would stick. Again, I really don’t remember why it was a big deal for me, but it was. “Thomas” means “the Twin”, which is weird because I’m just one person. I never had a brother or a twin. I had a sister, “Jodie”, who was five years older than me. Jodie is derived from Jody, Judy, Judith, all the way back to the Hebrew “Yehudt” which means “Praise”. My sister’s actual name was “Norma Jo” which came from my father’s middle name “Norman” referring to Norsemen or “from the north”.
My sister never seemed excited about having a baby brother. That’s understandable because I was a brat and very little enjoyment was to be had from my company. Yet, my mother, “Billie Jo”, told me that the five years between my sister’s birth and my own were years of longing for another child (this is the gist of my story) and never gave up that hope. My mother wanted me to know that she and my dad had hoped and prayed for me before I came along. That I was not an accident.
This gathering I’m presently attending is one of the few chances for everyone of my children and their families to be together for a few days and the only time, possibly the last time, to gather at a vacation spot like this house on the beach. We have planned it for months and looked forward to the time with great anticipation. But let’s face it — I’m not much fun to be around. I don’t have a lot of patience and I’m not very funny or entertaining. I’m awake right now writing this story because I now realize that the telling of it is the reason I’m here. I need to set the record straight and pass this story down to those that might remember it. So here’s the tale:
I never thought I would marry. After ruining several brief relationships I finally gave up and turned it over to God. There was nothing I wanted more than to be in a family, to find a wife and raise a family, but I was adrift in a sea of failure without any bearing as to where I should go or how to get there. I was tired of screwing everything up and disappointing everyone I knew. I quit. I finally accepted that it probably wasn’t going to happen and that was okay. I had a long struggle with faith, but I read the Bible, several versions, enough to know just to give it up to God and try to see what He set before me.
Then He sent me to Linda. Praise God. God clearly heard my prayer, knew my heart’s desire, and blessed me though I deserved it not. The Germanic source of “Linda” may mean “soft or tender”, but the Spanish meaning is “pretty”. Linda was and is beautiful. She is caring and wise. I’m not sure why God led her to suffering with the likes of me, but she has endured it and held fast through the worst of it so far. God bless her.
Linda already had Sam, though he was just a baby, when I met her. “Samuell” is derived from the Hebrew “shemuel” or “the name of God”. When I married Linda I had to become a surrogate father in a very short time and, once again, I had no idea how to do that. Truth is, I failed at both being a father and at being a husband. I was self centered, stupid, and often mean. Not cruel, I was never cruel, but a failure. I prayed about my failures. I asked for help, strength, and guidance. I didn’t give up and I tried to become better. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better person. It’s hard to do.
Linda was from a big family, we wanted to have more children. It wasn’t long before Sarah was born. Of course, “Sarah” means “princess” and her middle name “Elizabeth” means “God is my oath”. We have a lot of Hebrew names in the family. Like I said, my memory is becoming questionable, but some events are burned into memory more deeply than others — I clearly remember Sarah’s birth, the first I ever witnessed, and decided then and there that every teenage boy should be required to witness a birth before he can ever become sexually active. Really. (I would say girls should too, but I now realize men are way to involved in making decisions for women.) That requirement would probably be an effective form of birth control for most guys.
After Sarah was born, we tried to have another child for a long time. Linda miscarried twice and it broke my heart. I can’t imagine how much more it affected her. Not wanting her to endure that again, we took precautions (that means birth control) for a while, but eventually we concluded that we weren’t able to have another child. I always wanted another child. I know she did, too. It’s strange the places and times that the longing for a child strikes you. When I walked down the aisle of a grocery that had diapers or baby food, I would always think of what it would be like to have another baby. Oh well.
Which brings to story forward a few years to another vacation. Linda and I were “empty nesters” when Sarah went to college and we took a trip to Beaver’s Bend with one of her sisters and her sisters husband. We had a nice time and canoed down the river. Just before heading home we went out to eat at a restaurant (again, this is burned in my memory) where my devious wife brought up the question of what would it be like to have another baby “this late in life?” My in-laws’ reactions were immediate and certain – it would be awful, it would ruin everything. I remember very clearly say that I disagree. It would be an adventure, a blessing. When we said our goodbyes and got into our car for the drive home, Linda told me she was pregnant. I was happy. I was worried something might go wrong again, but happy — excited.
We spent more time than before picking out a name. Because of our age, the doctor did a lot of testing. So we knew our baby was a boy. One of the tests called for drawing some amniotic fluid to test for Down syndrome. We refused that test because of the potential risk. What was the point? Regardless of the outcome we were going to have the child anyway. It was all in God’s hands, so we prayed and hoped. Linda wanted to name him “Henry” so I jokingly said “Harley”, but I finally convinced her to continue the Bible name tradition by naming him “Nathaniel”. This name fit better than any other. It means”God’s gift”. That’s what my son was and is — a Gift from God. I thank God for His gift. For a long time, I resisted the shortening of his name to Nate because it somehow diminished the meaning of his name.
There haven’t been many times in my life that I knew God was putting something before me, not many times when I was sure of it. Having the conviction and courage to follow the path when I was sure it was set before me — that’s even more rare. When Nathaniel was only six or seven, God moved me to do something completely out of my character. I convinced Linda that we needed to adopt another child. Everyone argued against it. I’m not really any better at parenting now than I was when Sam was a baby, but I’m still trying. Our youngest son Tsegaye was clearly a blessing to our family from God. His name? It means “God’s grace.”
Last night, here by the sea, we celebrated the engagement of my grandson to his soon to be wife. It was also the anniversary of Sam and Stephanie’s wedding. Auspicious occasions both, and memories were made. But in the conversations that followed someone commented that Nathaniel was “an accident”. Now I’m the king of stupid statements, so I’m not trying to denigrate the one who made the statement. I don’t know who said it and I’m certain I’ve said far worse myself in the last few days. So I’m sure they didn’t mean it to be taken that way, but it was hurtful and factually incorrect. I’ve stayed up most of the night thinking and writing to try tell this story that should be important to our family. An “accident” implies more than “unintended”. It suggests that the results are less worthy than a planned and predicted outcome. That’s not a description of my son, Nathaniel, or a fitting description of any child. No child was more hoped for, loved, or valued than him. Regardless of how or when a child was conceived, they are a person of equal worth to all the rest of us.
Thank you, families everywhere, for loving and enduring. It isn’t easy or even common anymore to keep a family together. It takes commitment and compassion, forgiveness and endurance, it takes God, faith, oaths and gifts and grace.
Went to church today and the message was spot on. Our minister’s message was about learning to look at all of our life through the lens of Jesus’ teachings. Our decisions, actions, work, conversations, positions, values… all that we are, should be guided by, and based upon, those lessons that we have learned from the stories of Jesus.
It truly is Good News that God loves us and that Jesus has redeemed us through His sacrificial death. And now, if we choose to accept that we are sinners and recognize that our path to redemption, to returning God’s love, is to listen to Christ, to follow His path… then we have our work cut out for us.
“Many are called, but few are chosen.” (Matthew 22:14) He died for everyone, we all have that freely given offer of salvation, but following Jesus’ teachings runs contrary to human nature. Evolution has given us instincts to favor survival — yet Christ calls us to serve others. When we are in danger or attacked, our nature calls us to fight or flight — yet Christ tells us to turn the other cheek when someone strikes us, that if someone demands we give them our coat, to give our shirt as well. And that is just the easy stuff: it gets harder, my friend.
Following Christ’s teachings is choosing to pass through the “narrow gate” (Matthew 7:13), while being led by our instincts, following human nature, is walking down that “wide road” and entering into the “broad gate”.
It’s not the easy way, not popular or safe, so not many go that way. In fact, it’s impossible. To learn the way that Jesus teaches us to live, and then to actually live that way (to look at all you do through the lens of His teachings) — as much as you may want to do this, you will fail. As much as you may believe that this right, that it true, that it is good —you will fail.
More Good News: even though living a Christ centered life is impossible for us, for God all things are possible. I’m really happy about this and I want to share it with you because I’m the most retched sinner I know. There’s no hope for me but for the Grace of God. As my minister once said, if I believe that God exists, that the wages of sin are death (eternal separation from God), that Jesus really was the Son of God who redeemed us, paying the price of our sin by dying on the Cross so that we may be saved (reunited with God) – if I believe all this to be true, then how much would I have to hate you to not want to share it with you?
Yes, I know it bores you, makes you mad, sounds silly or stupid. But the fact is I love you and want you to know this story. Please humor me and read on. How about this? If you read to the end and it still sounds stupid, leave a comment and tell me where I went wrong. Deal?
Why do people believe in God? I’m sure there are countless reasons, some that are beyond my grasp. Some say that they believe:
In order to make sense of it all,
Because they grew up in the church,
Because they want to be good,
Because they hope for eternal life
Why do people choose not to believe in God? Again, there are as many reasons as unbelievers, but I’ve heard (even shared) a few:
Because religious people are sometimes so bad,
Because there are so many contradictions in Bible,
Because it’s just a myth,
Because they can’t see God,
Because science renders God unnecessary or impossible.
Another necessary question, one that I’ll get to later, is: what does it mean to “believe” in God.
All I can honestly do is to tell you why I believe in God. Here’s my story:
When I was a boy, my parents went to Church. At least they frequently went to church. I was blessed with two good parents and an extended family that, as far as I know, usually went to church. My parents took my sister and I to the Baptist Church. I went to Sunday school, heard Bible stories, sang songs, then sat with my parents during the service and mostly drew on the program. Doodles, really. Mostly armies of stick figures in battles, driving tanks, and jumping out of planes with parachutes. I think that’s fairly normal. But there were bits of dogma that snuck in through the sermons and songs and lessons. I knew I was a Christian. After all, my parents were Christians, right? So basically, I took in on authority that God exists, Christ was the only sinless human, He died for us. Makes sense. Kind of.
Then sometimes things came up and we didn’t go to Church. Maybe we went to see Grandma instead, or went to the lake, or just stayed home. There was a fairly extended period where we just didn’t go. I think my dad had an existential crisis and lost commitment to regular attendance. My dad worked on a transmission line construction crew with Texas Power and Light and he was gone a lot. He was also very tanned. When I was in kindergarten or first grade I asked my mom, “In Sunday School we sing that song about Jesus loving the little children, you know, all the children of the world? Red and yellow, black and white? Mom, what color is my dad?” This wasn’t a racist question. I was just curious and really wanted to know. Turns out he was white and I had just created one of those family stories that lived forever.
After a few years of skipping church, my mom says to heck with this – if I’m going to take the kids to church by myself then I’m picking the denomination. So my sister and I began attending the Christian Church. Yep, in addition to the Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, Pentecosts, Catholics, and Seventh Day Adventists, there was a denomination of Protestants that simply called themselves “Christian”. I’m sure there is a story there somewhere. Anyway, we’re getting dressed up, going to Sunday School, doodling through sermons and the occasional baptism when one day, riding home in the car, I asked my mom, “If God created all the Heavens and the Earth, then who created God?” I bet you asked the same thing, right? Seems innocent enough. Well, mom didn’t answer that question for me. Nope. She said I should ask the preacher, so I naively agreed to setting an appointment with the guy up front who talks during the doodle ceremony. And what do you think happened? Yep, he didn’t answer that question either. Just said that there are some things that are mysteries to us mere mortals and we would have to wait until we met God and then He could tell us.
I had some other questions, like why was Heaven up and Hell down since, with the Earth rotating and all, those were really the same direction, and what about animals souls? And how do we know other religions have it wrong? But I was never going to be able to ask anymore questions because he’d already launched the what it means to be saved speech and convinced me to be baptized next Sunday. Now, I had my doubts about all of this, but I didn’t want the preacher to think I was a heathen, so a week later I was all wet. Confused, hopeful, and now a little bit guilt ridden about pretending to be “saved” when I really didn’t think I deserved it. You see, at the time I was in the fifth grade and at the height of my cussing career. I was also quite interested in sex even though I didn’t know a thing about it.
As you might have guessed, what followed was another extended period of skipping church entirely. I soon developed from a bratty kid into a totally deplorable teen, found absolutely no interest in sports, couldn’t find my place anywhere in the junior high social hierarchy, and escaped into motorcycling with a few other rejects. About this time I slowly started questioning everything. Like haircuts. And why all this schooling when we’re apparently all going to die in a nuclear war. And patriotism: the loudest all American rednecks seemed to hate me and my two or three friends who just want to cruise around, listen to a little rock ‘n roll before we get drafted and shot at. So, religion? That’s just a crutch for the weak and wounded. My parents were wrong about that just like everything else. We’re all on our on here. You only live once, right? I guess I’m an atheist.
Except… I like to read. I liked to read everything. And I like being skeptical. So I read the books my sister was reading in high school. Things like Brave New World, Black Like Me, and Siddhartha. Then there girls, and drugs, and Vietnam War protests, and mathematics. So, yeah, I’m an atheist and reading Darwin, and Thomas Henry Huxley, and then in college, there’s philosophy and logic and… wait a minute: I loved Aldous Huxley ‘s work and I’m reading “The Perineal Philosophy” when I’m forced to realize that it takes more faith to be an atheist than to be a believer. So, I guess I’m agnostic. I mean, I don’t know. Am I?
Next comes heartaches, searching for meaning in life, dropping out of college, living in a tent, seriously hard labor, and living on a shoestring budget. And during all this I’m reading the Bible. I’d never read it before. I must have read a thousand books, but never the Bible. For some reason, it seemed unreadable. Too long, even though I’d read books that were longer, even trilogies and series. I’d read science fiction, textbooks, encyclopedias, philosophy, poetry, fiction… everything except for the Bible. Too remote, even though I’d been hearing snippets all my life. But now I read it front to back, three times: first King James, then the Revised Standard Version, and the Living Bible. I still have my copies of the last two (King James was borrowed). What I had assumed was an anthology of cultural fables began to read like an authentic historical accounting. If this had been made up, they would have cleaned it up a lot more so that it would at least appear believable. This book is explaining, in the best available terminology of the authors, events and knowledge that are beyond human comprehension. It has been handed down as an oral tradition, recorded by many people, copied by hand countless times, edited and sometimes condemned and destroyed, translated repeatedly, and always fought over. It is is filled with contradictions and duplication, it is miss used and completely misunderstood. It rings true to me.
The Bible had put me off before because of the insistence that it was the unerring, divinely inspired Word of God. There was never any mention in church of how scribes May have changed the scriptures, of of how translations cannot retain original means, or of the influences of Constantine or “canonization” by groups of men such as the Council of Trent. But most of all, it had seemed to me that it was the Bible that was being worshipped, not God. I think these feelings toward the Bible were mostly handed to me from men who couldn’t answer questions.
At some point during that third reading, I think it was in Acts, I stopped. It was in the middle of the night, after a marathon reading session, and I’d reached an impasse. I said this prayer or something like it: “God, I really don’t know if you are there or not. I want you to be there, hearing this. I want to believe you are there. I want to believe there is a soul, and eternity, meaning and value, good and a purpose for living. I want to learn to love and serve you. But I’m unsure. I don’t know how to have faith. I’m not able to make that leap on my own. I’m asking you to help me. I need you to show me in some way how to believe.”
In that very moment I felt God there with me. I’m tempted to say, “God’s presence” but that doesn’t seem adequate. It was like flipping a switch and suddenly I knew God was in the room with me and everywhere else. Everywhere. Beyond where. I didn’t understand, I felt. And I also knew instantly that this was forever, that I could never forget and never doubt or deny. In just the same way that I could “know” or “be sure” that a friend was with me – present there with me at that time and place – I knew that God was with me, but more so. I cannot explain that experience further. I can’t share it any better than with those words. I wish I could. I was given what I asked for and I want you to know about it. I wish I could say that I was suddenly a better person, but I am still the same sinner I was before. It’s just that now I’m thankful — I know I’m blessed. I know God loves us.
Since that moment, I’ve had a multitude of experiences and realizations that are equally difficult to convey. For example, I know that God hears my prayers. Prayers are conversations with God. Sadly, I talk far better than I listen. We tend to consider prayer as asking for help, like I did, but it’s okay to not say anything. Just try to be quiet for a little while and open some space in your life to make room for God. Most of the time I don’t even know what to ask God for, but He knows what we need. (Ephesians 3:20) What God desires for us is far beyond anything we can conceive of. But, in our misunderstanding, we often think that what is Good means what is blissful, pleasant, and happy. We know so little and are so sure of ourselves.
So, what does it mean to “believe” in God? That’s called faith. I realize that I’m out of my depth talking about faith.
To have faith, to believe in God, commits you to action, to service. It means you’re no longer on your own. As a Christian, you have to start but learning all you can about Christ. Learn his teachings and follow them: be open to dreams. To believe in God, to have faith, means that your own desires, those that elevate you and your position, don’t really have a compass other than preservation and following human nature. Dreams from God, His plan for you, if you trust Him, are vastly better- but more challenging.
God will put a vision before you and then you have to be prepared to exercise your faith in seeing that vision fulfilled. Chances are that this dream will be a complete surprise and very different for anything YOU wanted. But you’ll know it’s God’s work because it’s consistent with Jesus’ teachings. It will require decisions and sacrifice. It won’t be easy and people will doubt you. It may take a long time and you’ll come to doubt yourself and be tempted to give up. The work and worry is always a part of serving God.
Faith is the catalyst that allows God to empower you, that allows you to begin making that connection.
For most of my life I’ve wanted to learn to paint in watercolor. It’s my favorite medium by far. I love the transparency, the degree to which paper texture controls the rendering of the image, the interaction of pigments, and the way the paint has a will of its own. Despite the totally unforgiving nature of watercolor, master artists reveal so much expression and presence in their brushstrokes, some making hyper-realistic street scenes, others compelling portraits, and a few sketch with their brushes instead of pencil or charcoal.
I’ll never create a masterpiece, or even a good piece, but I want to learn what I can. Thanks to my local college I am finally able to give watercolor my best shot. A wise man once told me that an artist only shows his best work. Sorry world, but I don’t have time or wisdom to follow that advice. Any piece I finish could be my last. But that doesn’t mean I’m not ambitious: if I can produce two or three things that my grandkids don’t eventually throw away then I’ll consider myself a success.
Tribalism means being organized by or advocating for tribes or tribal lifestyles. The word tribal can be used to describe a kinship group or clan with a common ancestor. In Oklahoma, when we hear “tribe” our first thought is likely to be our many Native American tribes. My teaching career was divided into three locales: the Choctaw Nation, the Creek Nation, and the Seminole Nation. Most of my friends, my students, my colleagues, and neighbors have belonged to a tribe. Every culture, every continent, has such tribes, usually located in geographically proximate areas like villages or bands. They often have their own language, traditions, dress, customs, and code of law.
Tribalism can, in times of stress, solidify a group in common defense to help preserve the integrity of tradition and the likelihood of survival. Tribal behavior rose and persists as a result of its benefits to group survival. The tribe is a source of pride and identity to its members. There is strength in numbers.
But, of course, there are other tribes besides the kinships of indigenous peoples. Technology enables groups of people to form digital tribes using tools like social media. This kind of tribe, a group with shared interests, lifestyles, and habits, has been around throughout history as well.
Tribalism is human nature, instinctive: an inherited behavior. We say “Birds of a feather flock together.” Humans are social animals, not well prepared to survive alone. We are conditioned by natural selection to exhibit tribal behavior — the impulse to protect clan, or turf, or a way of life.
But tribalism has its dark side as well. Tribalism is rooted in scarcity — the assumption that there isn’t enough to go around. So we assume that we have to fight for and hoard all that we can for the tribe and deny it to those who don’t qualify. Our tribes divide us into we and the others. “We”, in almost every case, are the humans, the right, the good, God’s chosen, the righteous, the wise, the deserving. And the “others” have to be the lesser beings, the wrong, the evil ones, the godless or spawn of the devil, the foolish, ignorant, or stupid, the enemy who wants what is ours. I’ve seen this in my own words and deeds.
Even within the tribe, there are always sub tribes, divisions, dissenters. The tribe, or human nature, insist upon loyalty, conformity, adherence to dogma. So the tribal member who doesn’t conform, the dissenter who questions or behaves “abnormally”, is subject to ridicule, castigation, bullying, or expulsion.
In the news today, we can see that tribalism is thriving. The tribes of economy, politics, religion, nationality, social philosophy, are dividing us into ever smaller, more polarized groups — each increasingly insistence that no compromise can be tolerated. We see how easily groups vilify their adversaries, how infrequently we consider (or even listen to) any opposing view, calling publications that question our positions as “fake news”, how little evidence is considered or reason applied, and how quickly a confrontation turns violent.
Jesus lived in a culture that was quintessentially tribal. His world consisted of Jews (descendants of Abraham) and Gentiles (everyone else.) Within his Jewish culture there were distinct tribes. The Jews, of course, considered themselves God’s chosen people, and it was perfectly acceptable for the Jews to consider everyone else to be no better than swine. Within the tribe, men were vastly more important than women or children. The first born son was better than any of his siblings. The priests were more worthy than any others. The rich were more blessed and deserving than the poor. The sick were considered unclean sinners. Jesus’s society was very structured and rigid.
Jesus taught us about bread. In John 6, shortly after miraculously feeding a multitude with a few loaves and fishes, he was describing the bread of life that comes down from heaven. The people ask Jesus what they should do in order have this bread – to do God’s work. He answered that they should believe in him. But they wanted a sign, another miracle, to convince them, something like the mana in Moses’ day.
Jesus said,“I tell you the truth, Moses didn’t give you bread from heaven. My Father did. And now he offers you the true bread from heaven. The true bread of God is the one who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”
“Sir,” they said, “give us that bread every day.”
Jesus replied,“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
He was given to the world — not just to Israel, to the tribes of the Jews, but — to whoever believes in Him.
In his parable, the Good Samaritan, Jesus purposely chose a Samaritan, a separate branch of Israelites, despised by Jesus’ tribe, to illustrate a good neighbor, an example of love.
Jesus was asked by a lawyer, testing him, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus, in turn, asked, “What is written in the law? How do you interpret it?” And the lawyer answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength; and love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus replied, “You have answered correctly. Do this and you shall live.” Being a lawyer, in order to justify himself, he further asked, “Who is my neighbor?” So Jesus tells the story:
Jesus answered, “A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and he fell among robbers, who both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. By chance a certain priest going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Levite also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan as he travelled, came where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, gave them to the host, and said to him, ‘Take care of him. Whatever you spend beyond that, I will repay you when I return.’ Now which of these three do you think seemed to be a neighbor to him who fell among the robbers?”
He said, “He who showed mercy on him.”
Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
-Luke 10:30-37
I’ve heard someone say, “I’ll start being concerned about refugees whenever the last homeless veteran has a job and a place to live.” You can replace the words “refugees” and “veterans” with any other groups you wish – this statement typifies tribalism. It would be more honest to say, “I’ll never be concerned about refugees.” The sentiment expressed is one of justification for disregard, for apathy, for diminishing others as unworthy and unwelcome.
Tribal attitudes are often thought of as pride, but conceal an underlying insecurity and lack of confidence. You don’t often find genuinely confident, secure, healthy people displaying tribal behavior. More typically, even when they claim to be enlightened, guided by self interests, they tend to act out their fear of others. As do I. The “otherness” we see in a group is usually the thing we fear the most.
There are many Christian tenets that we accept and understand that we just don’t put into practice. Let’s take a look. We have theological virtues: Faith, hope, charity. We have cardinal virtues: prudence, justice, temperance, and courage. Other virtues include: patience, humility, kindness, wisdom, and diligence. There’s nothing there about exclusion, arrogance, or demeaning others.
On the other hand, consider the cardinal sins: Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. How many of those come into play when we set up attitudes of “us” versus “them”?
Jesus’ teachings are rooted in abundance, not scarcity. God’s love is infinite, His capacity unlimited. When asked, “Then how can anyone be saved?” He explains, “For man, it is impossible, but with God all things are possible.
A couple of years ago, as Britain was struggling with the issue of whether or not to remain in the European Union, Jo Cox, a Labour Party Member of Parliament, was brutally murdered on the streets of Birstall, West Yorkshire. As her assailant murdered her, he shouted, “Put Britain first.” Again, this typified tribalism. Us first. If there’s anything left, then maybe we will consider them.
Jesus teaches us about putting ourselves first. In Matthew 20:16 he said “The first shall be last and the last shall be first.”
To quote Michael Jinkins, a contributor to Huffington Post:
The story of Christianity is the story of good news that will not respect the walls erected by human hands, but opens the eyes of people to the fact that every partition we erect is called into question by the neighborhood of Jesus Christ (Galatians 3:28; Ephesians 2:14). The Spirit of Christ runs counter to the spirit of the tribe, calling us to let go of the fears and self-hatred that separate us and to find in Christ the humanity that revels in God’s love for everyone God created.
God, grant us the guidance, the strength, the knowledge, and the courage to overcome our human nature, our baser tendencies and to embrace and put into practice what you have taught us.
Shortly after the Mars InSights landing, someone I knew posted on social media how mad she was about her tax money being wasted on such a stupid project. I understand that many people don’t value knowledge for its own sake, so I naively made a few remarks about how scientific research results in economic growth (each dollar spent returning many more to society) because of new technological innovations and supplied a couple of links to reference data and analysis to support my argument. The citation of evidence, “sales pitch” as she labeled it, seemed to make her even more angry. She replied, “Who cares how Mars was formed or about its tectonic activity?”
So I tried to explain that the answer to the missions questions will help use gain an understanding of how all rocky planets are formed and how those life supporting conditions such as an atmosphere and magnetic poles are formed and sustained, that they might be good questions to answer before sending manned missions or further research probes there. Then she asked me how old I thought the Earth was…
Oh boy. A rhetorical question for sure. So I said that’s a bit out of my wheelhouse, but the consensus is that the Earth formed from dust, gas, and stellar debris somewhere around 4.5 billion years ago. I also tried to provide some approximate ages for ocean formation, appearance of photosynthesis, cellular life, and current guesses of the earliest appearance of man. Nope, she said. “The Earth is 6000 years old. The Bible says so.”
Suddenly the futility of the entire Mars landing discussion was obvious. She was not going to be interested in evidence, logic, or reason. She had cloaked herself in the armor of faith, but not in the Faith as I understand it. I wish I could have continued the conversation in person – in a calm and caring manner. But I stepped back. Had I not been a coward, here’s what I’d of said:
God is bigger than you think. Believing in God doesn’t require that you deny science. God doesn’t want us to be blind, he heals the blind. God doesn’t want us to be ignorant, he gave us our senses, our mind, and taught us to share knowledge. God gave us this world so that we could live, learn, and love — not to deceive or tempt us. You don’t think God can exist if science is true? God is way more powerful than you give Him credit for. All things are possible with God.
You have placed you faith in man, not in God. The Bible doesn’t tell us that the Earth is 6000 years old — some man has interpreted it that way. Some man, in his infinite wisdom, has assumed that the Bible in his hand was recorded exactly, translated perfectly, and the he has interpreted it flawlessly in the only manner possible. He knows, without a doubt, that the six “days” of creation were 24 hours long. He absolutely knows that a “year” has always meant what it means to us now. He has guaranteed that Constantine’s scholars winnowed out all the valid books to make the Bible and all the scripture they sought out and destroyed was of no value to God or man. He has determined that his ego is justified in proclaiming an unerring and immutable understanding of scripture and is certain that his arithmetic applies accurately. And, finally, he has declared that anyone who questions his authority is of the devil.
There’s a lot more to the Bible than a genealogical timeline. I’m inferring from the discussion the she believed we should study and learn from scripture. We should use the wisdom there as a guide for making decisions, how to behave, and how to treat others. But don’t skip the lessons about how we are to love, to serve, and to be humble. Don’t forget about not judging others, about how no one knows the time prophetic events will occur. Let’s continue to try to love and help others. That means healing and protecting our planet. And if we don’t appear to be preserving our future here, maybe we need to consider opening the door outward to a place we can try again. I don’t even know if that’s possible, but opening the door to the possibility can be a way to show your love to future generations.
You’ve missed the point of scientific inquiry. The scientific method has been very reliable in the search for truth: systematic observation, measurement, and experiment, and the formulation, testing, and modification of hypotheses. Science encourages questions and challenges. When an error is found, it is addressed by peer review and corrected as well as possible. Sure there are egos involved and change is hard. Some scientists are brilliant, but inhuman. Some are just as greedy as the merchant kings. Sometimes science has been very wrong, but it always seeks correction – it is a search for truth.
You’ve taken some new religious dogma and proclaimed it as faith. Some religious people are enlightened and humble. Some religious people are arrogant and merciless. Some are just greedy. But it’s our job to continually seek spiritual truth and growth. It’s your responsibility to seek out the spiritual community, the church, that enables and encourages you to grow in spirit. I see red flags when I hear “unerring” and “immutable”. That’s a last defense when your argument fails and the evidence is against you. “You know a tree by its fruit.” Denying the obvious and disregarding evidence doesn’t smell right.
Science and theologians are asking the same questions, just in different ways. “Who are we? How did we get here? What are we supposed to be doing with our lives?” The theologian looks for answers in the words recorded by other men. The scientists look for answers in the whole of God’s creation. We are on the same side. God can exist in the search of each. The Bible answers the “why” questions and science the “how”.
But that’s just my opinion. I don’t expect you to believe me. I hope you might listen and consider, but I expect to be questioned and doubted. I don’t have all the answers and I’m often wrong. Let’s keep looking. Let’s continue to care.
After coming back to Facebook after my year of sabbatical, I almost immediately hit the same old funk that drove me away. It’s so disheartening to unfollowing someone you’d otherwise love to keep up with because the vitriol in their posts, their denial of science, their endorsement of egocentric power, their intolerance, their bigotry, or their hate.
And It would be useful for me to know about how and when I’ve been unfollowed or unfriended because of my posts. Today I was thinking of the science of learning acquisition and brain development–how amazing it is that we learn to talk. Then I realized that the greater miracle is that some people actually learn not to.
To bury your head in the sand by leaving Facebook may give you some much needed relief, but it doesn’t help you become a better person or to help anyone else. Social media has a part to play, it’s a tool of great potential, but how do you use it for good? How can it help you or the people you connect with? How can you use it with going completely nuts?
I’ve been a little intrigued by my grandson’s posts since coming back to Facebook on August 6th. He only posts short scriptures, about one a day, and without comment. Sometimes these scriptures make me wonder why he picked that particular scripture for the day. And I’ve wondered for years if there was a way to share the Good News of Christ on social media without turning people away – without being smug, self righteous, or sanctimonious.
Today I heard the Prayer of St. Francis for the first time:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love.
Where there is offense, let me bring pardon.
Where there is discord, let me bring union.
Where there is error, let me bring truth.
Where there is doubt, let me bring faith.
Where there is despair, let me bring hope.
Where there is darkness, let me bring your light.
Where there is sadness, let me bring joy.
O Master, let me not seek as much
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love,
for it is in giving that one receives,
it is in self-forgetting that one finds,
it is in pardoning that one is pardoned,
it is in dying that one is raised to eternal life.
So, yeah, there it is: this is my goal for all future posts on social media. I know it’s a lofty goal that I’m sure to fail at, but I’m gonna try. If you see me slip, then call me out on this. Just make the comment “remember the prayer of St. Francis” and that will be our code to remind me I’m slipping up.
From August of 2017 until August 2018 I took a Facebook break. All that hate was just more than I could take. I thought it be interesting to make a list (extremely incomplete) of news events and personal experiences during that time. Here it is:
Total Eclipse of the sun and we were there
Hurricane Harvey in Texas
My brother in law, Steve Mincey, dies
Family members: Melissa, Phillip, Summer, Christopher are in a car crash
North Korea fired a ballistic missiles over Japan
Hurricane Irma hits Florida
Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico
Las Vegas country music massacre 58 dead over 500 wounded by one insane man my age
Tom Petty died
California burned (three times)
Facebook splits feeds for profit
Puerto Rico without services months later, yet Trump gives himself an “A” for crisis management
Lots of sexual harassment charges and men fired
Spain starts to unravel, then dissolved government of Catalonia
Trump’s Twitter account was shut down for 11 minutes
Half the people in a Texas church are killed by a gunman and the other half wounded
Roy Moore runs for US Senate denying charges of molesting teens, then gets beaten by his Dem opponent
A puppy showed up at Tsegaye’s window at 3:00 am and stayed
I stumbled down 6 or six rows of bleachers at a basketball tournament until a young man from Konawa named Cody offered a hand and saved me from a hospital trip or worse.
Oklahoma government continues to demonstrate total incompetence and down-right contempt for its people
Trump (who calls himself a stable genius) tells 2000 lies in his first year then refers to Haiti and African nations as “shit hole” nations.
Three Native American girls disrupted Gov. Mary Fallon’s last state of the state address with a banner stating “State of Despair”
Elon Musk sent a Tesla Roadster into the asteroid belt. Don’t know why.
In Parkland, Florida, 17 students killed and 15 injured by AR-15 wielding by former student, but Paul Ryan said “Now is not the time…” to talk about it.
West Virginia teacher strike lasted nine days but they got the 5% they asked for. Sadly, that money will come from “very deep cuts” to entitlement programs.
Oklahoma teachers give state lawmakers an April 1 deadline to fund education and are joined by state workers. Walkout looms.
Facebook comes under fire for allowing malicious use of personal data by firms like Cambridge Analytica.
A pedestrian is hit and killed by a self driving Uber car in Arizona.
Tsegaye and I joined friends in “March for our Lives” in Oklahoma City.
Oklahoma teachers are finally so fed up with lack of funding that they walkout.
Eight to ten students and adults shot to death at Santa Fe High School by a seventeen year old male student. NRA worshipers double down.
I retired.
Trump finds a kindred spirit in Kim Jon Yung at a summit in Shanghai, while making enemies of all our allies.
Trump administration begins separating immigrant children and parents at border crossings – blames it on democrats.
We traveled to Tennessee where my granddaughter was dancing. Got to tour Parkin Archeological State Park, Jack Daniel Distillery, Buford Pusser’s home, Rock City, Ruby Falls, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Cumberland Falls State Park, the National Corvette Museum, and South Union Shaker Village historic site.
July is warmest month on record for US.
California burns again- worse than last year.
Linda and I see the sights in Enid.
Oklahoma legalized medical marijuana.
School starts and I didn’t…
The relevance of these items are, of course, entirely subjective – one should never turn to Facebook as a news source. I’m hoping FB has improved the interface so I can filter out the politics and hate. We’ll see or it will be a short reunion. Peace, brothers and sisters!
Summer’s here and lately I’ve been contemplating what it means to take a vacation. Most people would agree that it means taking a break from whatever you normally do, yet our ideas of a great vacation are as varied as we are ourselves.
For me, vacations require travel – vacating my home and work environs for an opportunity to see what else there is in the world. Not all travel is a vacation, but all my vacations include travel. Some folks may imagine that being able to stay at home is the perfect vacation. I can remember a time when I thought so, too. It’s a shame we have to work so long and hard to pay for a house that we have little time left to enjoy it. Yet, my idea of a vacation implies indulging one’s wanderlust.
When I was a child, vacation time was my dad’s only chance to visit his brothers who had moved out of state. If it weren’t for these trips, I guess I would have very little notion of my extended family. So I highly value trips made for reunion and visiting, but family visits are not vacations. In fact, they can become your normal routine. A vacation, by contrast, breaks the routine.
Some folks always use their vacation times on a quest for entertainment. I’m sure the resorts, cruise lines, and casinos appreciate that, but it’s not my idea of a vacation. A lady I worked with recently told me that every single one of her vacations was a trip to Branson, Missouri – for me, that would be torture. I’m looking for escape, not indulgence. I don’t want to be entertained or distracted – I want a chance to explore, to discover, to experience and learn something new.
It isn’t possible for me to rest or to restore my soul while immersed in a crowd being harvested by resourceful and determined capitalists. Take me far from rat race and set me in nature.
Now, I will confess that I love to visit an art museum, that I love to hear a symphony or see a play, and it’s nice to see historical sites. All of these fit in nicely with my idea of a vacation, so I guess I’m being hypocritical about entertainment. But I’d just as soon skip the music review, magic show, Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, and the like. And I know kids love of zip lines, arcades, carnival rides, theme parks and water parks, but at this point in my life I’d just as soon wait outside.
If I’m visiting a city for the first time, I really enjoy one of those tours that employs local people with encyclopedic knowledge of their towns history, architecture, and attractions. I liked the double decker bus in New York City, the trolley in Boston, the trolley and water taxi in Baltimore. When we visited Savanna, the informative guides and the chance to rest and stay cool as they drove was most enjoyable.
As we age, vacations somehow become associated with bucket lists. What is that one prefect destination you have to see before you take the off ramp to the sky? European, Alaska, New Zealand? My dad always talked about wanting to see Alaska, but he kept putting it off. I signed him up to get the brochures from lots off cruise lines and travel agencies. My cousin finally talked him into taking the trip together, but before he could get embark he had a medical condition appear that destroyed his confidence in making the trip. It was all downhill from there.
I’m of the opinion that a vacation is a trip that I never feel able to afford to take, yet can’t afford not to. A proper vacation enriches your life. It is something to look forward to, something that makes it all worthwhile. Some of my favorite vacation experiences have been the spontaneous, the accidental experiences that happen when you have no reservations – when you don’t over plan.
One of the first times I got to ride in a plane it was in a C-130 Hercules. This is a cargo plane and there was only one tiny window, but I was invited into the cockpit where I could see very well. We were flying at 30,000 ft and I felt like I could almost see the curvature of the Earth. It was a profound moment to realize how large the Earth was and how small my little world was in comparison. Most people live there lives with seeing very much of it.
So if you get a chance to take a vacation, I hope you’ll take it. See the world.
After coming back to Facebook after my year of sabbatical, I almost immediately hit the same old funk that drove me away. It’s so disheartening to unfollowing someone you’d otherwise love to keep up with because the vitriol in their posts, their denial of science, their endorsement of egocentric power, their intolerance, their bigotry, or their hate.
Legacy and Lunacy 