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Finally The Good News – And the Care Floods On

Granted, the United States government has currently ceased to be a compassionate, care-giving entity.  But do not for one second think that in any way reflects the thoughts or deeds of the American people.  U.S. citizens still maintain their nation’s 134,000 individual charities.  (Yup, you read that right.)  And though one large spigot has turned off, other mega-providers are running full blast.  This past year, the Catholic Relief Services in the U.S. alone raised and spent $170 billion to fight poverty and end suffering worldwide.  That’s more than the $152 billion Apple garnered – and three times the GDP of Tanzania.   The 5.4 million donors to the United Way generously contributed $5.2 billion to fund its 1,100 charitable organizations, which its staff and 1.4 million volunteers employed to bring aid to 40 nations.    That’s only two avenues through which Americans display their warm-hearted benevolence.

We are a prosperous nation whose people bountifully continue to share that prosperity.

My wife Lorraine suggests that it may be time for those U.S. residents to remind their legislators on both sides of the aisle that they stand among those millions of voters who want America’s generosity to be actively sustained. That is, of course, your choice.  But as a final note, I found it interesting that the late Pope Francis, as most all recent pontiffs, chose to forgo his $405,600 annual salary and donate it to worthy causes.

Memorial Day

It is right and deserving that we pause to remember those whose ultimate sacrifice has made possible the rich, full lives we currently enjoy.  But this May 26th, I had my sense of grateful debt markedly expanded.   Like many millions of fellow Americans, Lorraine and I lined our local main street to view our town’s Memorial Day parade.

‘Twas a pageant of hope.  Right after the war veterans, the scout troops came marching – Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts.  Here were young people taught to be self-reliant, but not self-absorbed; encouraged to do a good deed daily; and to discover the value of being helpful, friendly, trustworthy, honest, and much more.  Interspersed amongst these came their parents: volunteers in the rescue squad, the public library, and local food pantries.  And, of course, those horn-honking, polished red trucks.  Our small (3,000 folks) town of Cranbury boasts at least half a dozen fire and rescue vehicles maintained by volunteers.  Yes, this may seem a bit overly rosy and I’ve no intention of confering halos of sainthood on every parade participant.  But I could not be blind to the caring, compassionate spirit displayed in the groups passing before me.  Like valiant soldiers remembered, here also were individuals whose efforts are making possible that rich, full life I currently enjoy.  My thanks to all of you marching along in that spirit.  You carry a power far greater than any self-serving cavalcade of military hardware can ever possess.

Hip Hip for Valentines Day

One of my ten favorite definitions of love is: that marvelous state of being in which your own well being is dependent on the well being of another.   Just think for a moment.  Love is probably the only emotion that we deem worthy of its own celebration day.   There are no cards sent for Hate or for Anger’s special day.  No champagne corks pop for Fear Day.  No one gets chocolate in celebration of Greed.  (No.  Election day does not count.)  The reason is markedly simple: we love to love.  We love to be loved.  And romance, well, it makes us joyfully lose our mind.  (Personal examples excluded.)

Those of you who have stumbled across my biography will note that this scribbler’s most prized writings are the poems he has written to his beloved, which stand published on the north wall of our house.  So, if you will, allow me to share a brief segment of the Valentine poem, “Fortune Smiles,” penned years ago for my bride…

Love is a chalice

From which each one may sip,

Thereby enriching all.

Hate is a bowl,

In which unfortunate souls wallow

In vain hope of staunching their pain.

The Fates have sent me Sweet Lorraine

My Soul overflows

I have no need of the bowl.

Happy Valentines Day 

The Thanksgiving List

The problem is that my Thanksgiving Thankful List is like my elevator pitch – unless the elevator is running from Boston to Baltimore, I never have enough time.  SO… instead of boring all my relatives at the feast table with my blessings, while they are salivating for turkey, I thought I’d share a few of the angels who continue to brighten my days.

– Most recently, when that hefty tree fell across the road blocking our path home yesterday, I thank the nameless fellow motorist who helped me sweat & wrestle it off to the side…couldn’t have done it without you, pal.

– When the media tries to terrify me with tales of shootings, I think of John whose personal crusade and clever dedication have lowered gun violence in Yonkers by 86 % – and still counting down.  (John gave up his scholarship to Julliard to work for the Salvation Army and YMCA.)

– Kudos to Katie in Haiti – the medical doctor who has founded a clinic in Haiti’s rural northwest that provides healing, food and hope to the poorest of the poor.

Oh, and thanks to Lorraine who brought awareness of Katie’s work, by hosting a multi-church fundraiser for the cause.

– When newspapers gleefully portray the gore of battle, I catch the news from Mel who founded the NonViolent Peacekeepers and learn of the latest war-torn regions into which he’s sent unarmed peace keepers to halt the rape and slaughter of civilians.

– And special hats off to Orondaam for our lunch at Social Enterprise Summit, where he explained how, from his Nigerian homeland, his Slum2School enterprise has built schools, funded teachers, and awarded scholarships, giving education to tens of thousands of young people trapped in Africa’s poverty stricken regions.

– Then, of course, I thank the frenziedly active Dale, whose Entrepreneur Zones venture is helping distressed communities across the nation bootstrap their way out of hopelessness.  (He’s even honored me with the ability to pitch in and help.)

I’m just getting wound up, but this elevator is not running to Baltimore.  So allow me one more note of thanks to the bedraggled band of New England Pilgrims who in 1620, with half their members dead after the first year in the New World, found reason and energy to raise their hands to heaven and give thanks.  And this year we all still follow that tradition.  My we each find the embers of hope this thanksgiving and perhaps labor a bit to blow them into a warming flame.

 

Happy Thanksgiving, Bart Jackson