One Book, One Bettendorf

Being over 65, I can remember Edward R. Murrow’s fall from grace and reduction (?) to “This I Believe”. I also recall NPR’s version of same. Both soar – embracing basic believes in a manner so personal, so profound in their simplicity they cut to the core of our being, bringing at times a tear, some drawing us downs to our knees, others invoking laughter. This the power of words can do.

I cannot think of another way to express more fully what I believe than to say, I believe in words. We embrace words in many ways: in song, in poems, in books, in blogs.

Words compose everyday experiences. We greet the new day with soft sounds, with joyous shouts, with yawning whispers. Some of us use more, some less but it is words that get us through the day. At night we go home to words be it family, T.V., radio, newspapers, books.

Words can inform, entertain, educate, hurt, chill. They can be delivered variously in love, anger, concern, be loud, soft, sung, written.

Words I love are heard as walk from my car to the grocery store. With an elementary school adjacent I hear children at play, a happy, squealing chorus of words. Saturday mornings bring the resonate voice of Don Wooten on his public radio show, always a parley with his guest. Some of the best couplings of words are on “My Word” from the BBC.

Words I hate are “The axis of evil”, and “Weapons of mass destruction”, a litany epitomizing the horrors our country has lived nearly the whole of my grand-daughter’s seven years.

Words are power. Roosevelt’s “We have nothing to fear but fear itself”. Churchill’s “…We will fight them…” and his “…Now we are entering a world of imponderables…”

Donahue, Rather, Murrow – voices held captive by a silenced media. If we as Americans believe anything, we should believe in words and our freedom to use them. The usage of words, whether spoken or written, should be our right to exercise. This I believe.

Rita Waage

A legacy from my Dad was the importance of one’s “presence” at the wake/funeral of relatives, special friends, and co-workers in our lives.

When I was about ten, Doris, a special girl friend, close to my age, lived nearby. After a long illness, Doris died of a brain tumor. We both were attending Rainbow School, a one-room school for grades primary through eighth. While she was ill, I had a hard time understanding why she didn’t want to play any more, why she got sicker and sicker. Going to visit her always left me very sad and very confused. I often cried after we left their home. Life just didn’t seem fair!

When Doris went to live with Jesus, I was even more overwhelmed. Then there was talk of her funeral. Of course, Dad explained that he and Mom would be attending, and he felt that my brother and I should go with them. And, he further explained that I should be brave enough to share a few words with Doris’ parents, on my own, and he shared a few ideas of things to say. I did go up and said a few words, but I have no idea what I said, or whether it was appropriate. Then I ran (not walked) back to Mom and Dad. I do vaguely remember that her parents gave me a smile, and they told me how glad they were that I came. Also, my parents confirmed that I had done the right thing.

Later, when we were home, Dad and Mom explained that it was not real important what I said. Dad believed the important thing was “our presence,” which let the people know we cared deeply, and chose to be with them during a difficult time.

As the years passed by, I never forgot what he said. He and Mom always seemed to be there for the special people in their lives. Dad certainly was a very special person in my life. And many years late, after my husband’s death, my pastor encouraged me to take “Befriender Training” at Genesis Hospital, Davenport. We met once a week for nine months. I learned much in these classes, as they were very interesting and informative. Then I was qualified to call on hospital patients. Every visit was unique. Some patients have concerns about life and health issues. I listen carefully to their stories. I often pray with them. And I really feel blessed when they thank me for visiting them! I have been a “Befriender” for ten years.

I feel Dad’s encouragement to be “a presence”, and learning to listen carefully to peoples’ stories, has enriched my life in many ways. I have met so many interesting people. I will always be grateful for growing up in a home with caring values.

Thanks Dad for sharing the importance of being “a presence” at an early age. You were the greatest!

Ann Duede

Martin Luther King once gave a speech that began with the memorable words “I have a dream”. When man landed on the moon it was considered “…one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.” So it was said. And I believe in the power of words.

Now, in my braver moments I consider myself a poet. I know there is a power in words. Otherwise how would I explain the fact we’ve all had moments where we’ve said things and then wanted to instantly take them back. That is the power of words, and none of us is immune or untouched.

In a class I once took it was said that in naming a thing you release its power over you. I know there are two words that have power over me. One word is a secret I guard from everyone, everyday. That word is homeless. For 3 months now I’ve found myself among the lost souls, all searching for hope or caring, or redemption, or love, in a world where sometimes not only people, but entire lives, slip through the cracks. I stay in a mission. My home address is a P.O. Box.

That other word is pride. I believe there are two kinds of it. The first kind forces me to keep my homelessness a closely guarded secret to protect my sensitive self image and my ego. A guy named Henry Miller once said, “I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.” I know that in writing this and reading this aloud, that the bags I carry are lighter. I can understand Miller’s feeling. I know I’m freer now. And that is the power of words.

The second kind of pride is born through hardships and struggle. It does not come from your head but from your heart, from the human spirit. While at the mission, I found the words that lit a fire, helping me to grit my teeth and set me on my way, with more resolve than I began with. It was William Ernest Henley who told me:
It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

Just to say the words “I am the captain of my soul”…my heart moves. There is a power there, a peace there, a home there. So when it is said that “Home is where the heart is.” I know my heart is not in a building and cannot be given an address. I like to think my heart is here, in these words.

Inside of all the poems I have written,
With the poets I have read,
Even scenes of movies I’ve seen
Or quotes other people have said.
I know I’ve always had home,
Buried in the things I heard,
I believe in my mission,
The place, my purpose,
I believe in the power of words.

Earnest Vaughns

I am a big fan of quilts. You are probably thinking ho-hum, or even duh? After all, is there anyone who is against quilts? Surely not cover hogs, blanket thieves, stitching grandmothers, or residents of northern climates.

My favorite thing about quilts is what they communicate. Traditional quilt patterns honor the big events in life: a marriage, a birth. Quilts provide quiet testament to Biblical passages, concepts of family identity, glimpses into history. Quilts raise awareness and money for worthy causes. Making or giving a quilt to someone says “I love you”.

Wait. My favorite thing about quilts is their capacity to renew us. The scraps piecing them together, no longer worn out, together are a part of something bigger, better. Quilts are there when we are sick, and encourage us to hang out, watching movies in our pajamas, anytime. When soiled, they can always be washed.

No, my favorite thing about quilts is that they connect us to one another. I once made a quilt with my Grandmother. We sewed, and talked, for hours straight. I am confident that many friendships, maybe even social movements, have originated among women joined in quilting circles. That’s the process of quilting.

The finished projects also connect us. Fabrics chosen, even once worn, by individuals, sometimes spanning generations, are sewn together. Wrapping ourselves in a particular quilt reminds us of the quilter, possibly, or another loved one.

I suppose I have a quilt collection, each special in a different way. The one that I won from a dollar raffle ticket evidences the care and craftsmanship of individuals I’ve never even met. My now 91 year old Grandmother made me a quilt to take to my college dorm, twenty years ago, when my favorite color was tan. My Army quilt forever links me to service with a fellow officer. But it is my two newest quilts which shroud me in healing and give peace to my soul. Made from my late-husband’s T-shirts, one celebrates the interests and vibrancy of his 36 years. The other, composed of twelve more of the T shirts he wore, will help our 2 year old son to know his Dad.

I’ve decided; my very favorite thing about quilts isn’t about the quilts. The true comfort of quilts isn’t about fabric, batting and thread, or even just about snuggling away the cold. They are symbolic. Like life, a quilt is not about what’s right in front of you, it’s really all about who is underneath.

Sarah Vordtriede

When I was a little girl growing up in small town Iowa, I took being loved for granted. I believe I did this because I was raised in a community where every member of the community knew each other’s business and everyone cared for each other as if we were all family.

I can remember lying in bed with a very high temperature, the flu, and strep throat a couple years ago; everyone in my town found out and I had mounds of flowers and cards sent to my house. This made me realize how much I was cared for.

I also remember when my mom would work late and my dad was in the fields during harvest season; I would stay at my neighbor’s house and I was treated as if I were one of her kids! These two examples, I think, may not happen to people in larger towns.

I also remember when I was on high school out-of-town class fieldtrips, the students from other schools would stare and make disgusted faces at us because we went to a Catholic school and lived in a “rich town.” I can see how others would get this perspective because usually nothing bad happens and there is no poverty in West Point. I think perhaps they were jealous!

But while I wish I could make it clear that small towns are not perfect, I only wish the city folks could see the joy and love that surrounds a small community. I know if they would give my town a try they would love it!

After I grew older, I was thrown out into the real world, outside of my hometown of West Point, Iowa. I moved to Saint Ambrose University and the love I had experienced from my small community suddenly turned into big city love. While I knew the love was there, it wasn’t the same as it was in my hometown community.

My transition to life in Davenport was a big one. For example, I have never heard so many sirens going off so often in my life! Growing up in a small town, I was not exposed to the drug dealings, shootings, and robberies that happen in bigger cities, like Davenport. I believe my being raised in a small town helped me develop strong morals and beliefs because I was not exposed to all these things.

I think those who grow up in big cities all their lives miss out on the feelings of love and coziness given in a small town. Therefore, I believe a small town was the best place for me to grow up.

Nicole Meierotto

I believe in the game of baseball, and I believe in applying the implications of baseball to everyday life. I started playing softball in third grade, and I’ve watched the Chicago Cubs religiously for as long as I can remember. I love the game and always hate it when the season comes to an end. Like most everybody else who follows baseball, I love to win.

Being a Chicago Cubs fan, I was taught well that a win might not come right away. But every year, for the season opener, I watch the game and think that maybe this year the Cubs will break their almost 100 year losing streak. Several times, I have been let down, but I will always show support for my Cubbies. Whenever I see that white flag with a blue ‘W’ rise up after a game, I feel like the Cubs have accomplished something great.

Similarly, a few years ago I joined a summer softball league. We were a new team and had a horrible record. I can’t remember a game when we weren’t beat by over ten runs. When it was time for the second season, we played and won the first game, and I knew that in the new season we had a chance to turn our record around.

Not only do I believe in watching or playing the game and rooting for my team to win, but I also believe in the implications that the game provides. In life, I always want to win; unfortunately, I need to remember that only one team will have the glory of winning that game. But losing one game doesn’t change my chance at winning the next. The next game day, I still get ready and go to the game trying my best for a win this time around.

Everybody loses at some point in life; if they haven’t then they have been extremely lucky. I always try to remember that one loss doesn’t mean a failed record or a failed life. It just means that I have to try harder the next time. Everything happens for a reason, and I always walk away from watching a game or playing a game with a lesson well learned. Every game is a new game. Every day is a new day. Whenever I have a let-down, I just can’t wait to hear those three words—let’s play ball. Everyday we should play ball, do our best and know that even if we fail, it was a day that will lead to a new day. A new day in which we get the opportunity to start a winning streak.

Nicole Thurwanger

I believe life is like downhill skiing. I also believe in not worrying about the future and on focusing on the adventure in front of me.

When I am at the top of the hills there are different difficulties: easy, advanced, and pro. I usually go down the advanced hill. As I am soaring down the hill, I am thinking about what’s going on at the moment. I am not thinking about the next run I am going to go down. I’m thinking ahead of the immediate moment on the slope. Also I’m thinking about if I am going to fall or if someone is going to run into me. While skiing down the hill I am always on the lookout for other people who might cut me off.

As I am gliding down the hill, my skis leave little snow balls behind. If I accidently turn into someone else’s path and hit one of these snow balls it would make me fall. Those little snow balls are my challenges during the day. Another thing I have to be careful of to not going too fast. If I go too fast I could fall or hit something.

If I have seen someone that has fallen, I always stop and ask if they are okay and need help. People usually fall the most at the bottom of the hill. Once I finally make it to the bottom of the hill, I stop and take a depth breath. I appreciate the fact that I made it down the slope safely. I then glide over to the ski lift and wait in line to get on.

While waiting in line, I am thinking of how well I did skiing down. I also think about what I did wrong if I had fallen so I won’t do it again. Once it is finally my turn to get on the ski lift, I feel a little tired from the run. As I am being lifted back to the top of the hill, I close my eyes and take depth breaths appreciating the fresh air. Half way up the hill I open my eyes and look around at the nature and the people below me going soaring on their own paths. Then I finally get to the top and start my adventure all over again.

I believe life is a lot like downhill skiing. I don’t worry about what hill I am going to adventure down until I get back to the top. There are a lot of bumps and bruises along the way but, if I don’t worry about the next adventure and only focus on the adventure in front of me, I will make it.

Katy Svenson

I believe in music. Music can make me happy, angry, or sad. Every different song I hear makes me feel a different way. When I am in different moods I listen to different types of music or sometimes a particular song will calm me down if I get angry.

When I hear certain songs they bring back memories; music reminds me of a particular experience that I have had. When I hear OAR I think of summer, Incubus I remember the time I went to a casino, and when I hear bagpipes it brings me back to all of the funerals I’ve attended. Every song will bring back different memories, some great ones and some that weren’t so great, but are still an influence on my past.

There is no right or wrong music. No one grades me on what type of music I like and I can’t get fired for the music I listen to. I don’t need to know how to do calculus or physics to appreciate music.

Music brings me together with people; it doesn’t matter what color I am, the way I talk, or where I grew up. The music is what brings me to a concert with a diverse group of people. At every party I have been to, there has been music at some point in the night. Every time a team wins a Championship in a professional sport, they have a song that reminds all of the players of what a great accomplishment they have achieved.

My life without music would not be the same as it is now. My memories would be different and some memories might be lost. I do not take a lot of pictures so I remember experiences through the songs that I have heard when I was going through a particular event in my life. I would not know the same people I know because my interest in music has led me to meet many of the influential people in my life. This is why I believe in music.

Nick Schiller

I walked alone out on the pitch black stage with a chair in my hand. I set it down in the center where the stage crew had set marks with orange tape. Carefully I stood on the chair and waited for the song to play. As my hands shook, I took a deep breath and just let the moment sink in because I knew there wasn’t going to be another moment quite like this. As the song started to play, I was no longer just another dancer moving through the choreography — my body took over, and I was weightless.

Minutes went by, and soon enough I was at the end [of my routine] and back on my chair, waiting for the lights to go out. The applause cued me to go off stage and get ready for another dance. As I walked backstage, still out of breath, my teacher gave me the biggest hug. My other dancer friends were also there waiting for a hug. I realized that it was moments like these that I live for. I love dance, and it has been a big part of my life for a long time. I believe it to be my true passion, and I couldn’t imagine life without it.

I believe that passions are a part of life and they bring some of the best times. I have had the best of memories throughout the years while dancing. A true passion, to me, is something that I get excited about and I just cannot wait to do it again. My passion for dance has also made me who I am today. It has taught me to work well with a team, to be considerate to others, and to give it all I have got. Aside from those things, dance has also brought me strength and endurance. My passion for dance brings the best out of me and makes me a happier person. Without a passion in life, I would not be living my life to the fullest. There would be nothing that I truly loved to do, and life would not be as exciting. Life without a passion is like building a house with no one to live in it; it’s meaningless. A house is supposed to provide shelter, just as a passion provides significance to life. Possessing a passion is one of the more important aspects of life. This is what I truly believe.

Julie Robley

I believe it is possible to overcome large challenges with hard work and perseverance. I believe a person shows true strength and character when faced with difficulties. I would never have given this much thought had it not been for an experience that helped me see how a life-changing event can ultimately lead to living a better life.

Almost three years ago, when I was twelve years old, I was lying in a hospital bed in a dimly lit room, overwhelmed with the challenge of incorporating my newly diagnosed disease into my life. I was very far from having a full understanding of where my life would take me and how I would cope with my illness.

Around one o’clock in the morning, I was told by an insensitive doctor that I have Type 1 Diabetes. My first reaction was to deny that piece of information. It was simple; I was afraid. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that someday everything would be okay and I could handle it, but I was still frightened. At that point, lying in that hospital bed, the only solution I could muster was to run away as fast as my legs could carry me.

After my many struggles to accept my diagnosis, I now have a solution that works well for me. Instead of running away from my seemingly impossible challenges, I face them. Consequently, I now have my diabetes under great control. I know my disease will never go away, but I live being ever conscious of it and consistently taking care of myself. I changed the way I do almost everything in my life, including how I eat, think, and live; however, I believe that I have changed my life for the better. I am now in control of my life and my diabetes.

I have discovered that rejecting the truth does not work for me. Some people pretend that their problems do not exist. I believe that integrating my disease into my life shows my strength; refuting the truth shows weakness. I used to try, sometimes without realizing, to be like my peers. I tried to hide my true self and my diabetes from them. I concealed my insulin pump in my shirt where no one could see it. I needed to become comfortable in my own skin and not worry about what other people think. I now am not afraid to have my insulin pump showing on my hip. I believe that with accepting myself and finding the good in life, I have ultimately become a stronger person.

Through being diagnosed with diabetes, I have come to believe I can accept whatever life throws at me. I live my life as best as I can, and work, mostly without complaint. Three years ago, I would never have thought my diagnosis would help me become a stronger person, but it has. I believe that with great strength, it is possible to overcome large challenges in life.

Elizabeth Dee, age 15