One Book, One Bettendorf

The awakening of spring can happen anytime after March 1 in the mid-west.  Slowly the days get a bit longer and the crust of winter melts away.

God and Nature have it all planned out.  By the middle of March the geese are on their way north and the ducks not far behind.  The robins are starting to show up from their long trip from a much warmer climate.  Their song wakes us up in the early morning.  They seem happy to be back and we are pleased to have them.  This is where they will mate and raise the next generation of happy warblers.  They are a  member of the thrush family so they love to sing.

Slowly the grass takes on a greener color and starts to grow.  The early plants start to emerge such as garlic, which is wild, asparagus and rhubarb comes up in their patch.  It is a glorious time of the year.  The sap starts to rise in the trees, maple first and the rest not far behind.  Some of the fruit trees start to bloom and leaf out early and some later.  When we see the early blooms of spring, we soon hear the buzzing of bees.  They have been dormant all winter and are hungry for nectar.  I don’t think man could have planned any thing like this.  It takes God’s pland and nature’s way to work out the best.

One of the most amazing things about plant ecology is our wild flowers.  With  no help from mankind, they thrive in their wild environment year after year.  The task would be too great to name all the wild flowers and ferns.  The ones we see the most often are the violets, blue bells, Dutchman’s breeches, tiger lilies, lilies of the valley and more.  Each wild flower and fern has a long history.  It seems they have been here forever.  They come up every year in their own place, in their own time.  They grow from roots or seeds and are scattered by the wind or the animal life of the Forest.  It is just one more sign of the awakening of spring.

God and Nature working together perform a natural beauty for us all to ponder.

There is nothing more exciting in the spring than the peeping through of the tightly curled fern fronds and their gradual unrolling and spreading upward toward the light.  They are one of the world’s oldest plants.  In the language of flowers, fern means “revelry”.  The cool green, the quite glens which they inhabit, the lush leaves cut delicately and arch gracefully, all suggest deep musing and places to be alone with thoughts.

Wayne C. Little

I will live until I die, but I will not die before I’m dead. Having advanced almost three score and nine into this life I find life to be a most important consideration. Life in the sense of “living” rather than “life or death”. Taking what is here-now and enjoying that to the fullest.

As a child I had no concept of what life was except that it was. In mid-life I lived with an arrogant possession of it, some thought without any consideration of tomorrow. Others just shook their heads in wonderment and let me go on. My boss, Corps of Engineers Colonel, saying “You’re so far out on the cutting edge you’re slipping in the blood”. My theory was if you want more do more. If the candle isn’t bright enough, light the other end. Do more? Cut the candle and light those ends.

Then I had an incident. Excruciating pain in my back and chest. I couldn’t expand my chest to draw a breath. Want more, do more. I quickly took up diaphragmatic breathing (stick your tummy out when you breathe in) and avoided suffocation. After about 6 weeks the Chiropractor saw something he didn’t like, the Internist didn’t like it either nor did the Cardio-Vascular surgeon. This incident is a Type IIIB aortic dissection, which at the time meant nothing to me.

This is where an attitude adjustment is supposed to come in. With that name I could go to the Merck Manual and look it up. Very interesting statistics. 80% die in the first 30 days with an additional 12% to follow within 5-years. Wow, an 8% 5-yr survival rate! Guess I should be thinking in the sense of life or death, right? Got some positive reinforcement along those lines. John Ritter and Lucy were both in the 30 day majority. A retired Doctor asked, “What’s it like living with a time bomb in your body?” followed by “I’d rather have cancer”. (Not sure but I think he must have been a proctologist.) A contrasting opinion came from a friend’s bridge opponent, a practicing physician. “He has what? He’s still alive? He’ll live a long time. Two spades.”

I pondered my options for two or three seconds. I was here-now. Life had always meant living. I decided it still did. My Doctor knowing my weekend recreational activity was building retaining walls out of 8’ railroad ties gave me a 50# lifting limit. Also knowing I had lived in big snow country (Green Bay, Michigan’s UP, and Colorado’s mountains) said no snow shoveling! Shucky darn. Two restrictions I’ll have to learn to live with.

I still run across those who know nothing about me but are of the same opinion as that proctologist, that I am lucky to be alive. (Emphasis on lucky, not alive!) I allow them their thought with the caveat that it ends at my nose. To those who listen I tell them that I will live until I die – and I will not die before I’m dead.

Richard Lemke

I believe in the power of metaphor- that life speaks in images that bring meaning to the mundane and the profound.

In my literature studies, the practice of analyzing symbols enticed me to use the same analysis in my day to day life. A stranger’s smile might be a secret understanding, or a missed bus might be saving me from disaster. Playing with metaphors connected me to a confusing, yet promising world.

One evening, at home on winter break during my freshman year at college, the metaphor game became a philosophy.

I sat in the lights of the Christmas tree watching Don Quixote battle windmills on the television, my father passed out on the couch across from me. I watched as my mother went up and down the front room steps, depositing all my father’s personal belongings in his car in the driveway.

After a few trips, dropping socks along the way, my mother sat next to me. The Man of La Mancha had just professed his love for the beautiful Dulcinea. My mother told me she had decided that after the holiday festivities were over, so was her marriage. I realized that, like Quixote, my own life was transforming before my eyes.

That scene was the moment that I began to see windmills and barmaids rather than knights and ladies. I realized that my family had been battling windmills- that life’s battles are fought mostly in the mind- and that the inspiration and determination of the human spirit allows us to win those battles. We win life’s battles when we are able to perceive beauty in the most unexpected places.

For all their faults, I loved both my parents at that moment. My mother-able to imagine herself in a different life and my father- the dreamer who would soon be forced to face reality.

It was no coincidence that Man of La Mancha was playing that evening. The metaphor of Don Quixote’s“impossible dream” showed me that love can transcend the real and imagined demons in our lives. Our lives are full of metaphor that transcends our pain, helping us appreciate the beautiful irony of life.

Shawn Rice

I know people who celebrate life every day, with their “joie de vivre”, their acts of kindness, the gifts they make for friends just to say “thinking of you”; they seem to be saying, “life is good, join in the fun and be happy!”

I wish I could emulate them, but I am instead a shy person, so that it is a constant struggle for me to be more outgoing.  This can get me in lots of trouble, because I either end up saying the wrong thing, or worse, nothing, which leads people to think I am indifferent.

As if shyness weren’t enough, I was also taught to be frugal and circumspect, and these traits tend to discourage spontaneous behavior.  So now I am not only indifferent, but also selfish and ill-humored.  What a lot of baggage!  How ever shall I deal with this?

With one step at a time, I guess.  I have begun sending funny cards to friends to say “hello”; I try to be more “vive-y” when I’m around people.  I copy jokes down to repeat at gatherings, and drink coffee to be more talkative.  And, perhaps most importantly, I’m getting better at remembering dates and returning calls.

But I always know my limitations.  I can, and always will, be only myself, be that sad or happy, spendthrift or thrifty, I do my best every day to keep myself together and make other people happy in-between.  And though I sometimes curse the non-bubbly genes I was given, I believe that I try hard to celebrate each day and the friendships that endure, even when I don’t always remember to bake a cake or return a call.

I believe in the celebration of life, if only (and especially) when being around those who are better at it than I am.

Mary Jane Stibolt

When I was pregnant with my first child, I heard over and over again about the overwhelming wave of love I would feel the first time I held him in my arms. Several weeks after his birth, I was privately feeling that I was a horrible mother; I hadn’t felt that crashing wave.

During a middle-of-the-night feeding, I had a revelation. It was four in the morning, I was awake and I didn’t care. It didn’t matter that, never having been anything approaching a morning person, I was seeing four in the morning from what I considered to be the wrong side. I was happy to do it and I realized, right then, standing in my kitchen, testing a bottle on my wrist - this is the crashing wave. My love for my children won’t be played out in great actions or momentous occasions; it will show itself in the little things. And so it has. Never mind that I have to change poopy diapers, wipe snotty noses, suffer dirty handprints on my new suede jacket. These are all little things that I do as a mom that add up to a big love.

Relatives from across town and across the country came to visit us for my son’s baptism. I love baptisms; they are the embodiment of hope and joy to me. Yet my best memory of that event was the day before the baptism, when four generations of my family spent the day at the park, playing, eating, napping. I remember thinking to myself, “You will look back on this day as a good day in your life.” And I do. The little thing of family coming together to welcome a new member is one more building block that makes our family strong.

Recently, I came to work and found a gift from a colleague on my desk: a case of pop. Nothing elaborate, just something that she thought would let me know she appreciates the work I’ve been doing. Another friend, who lives far away, sends “just because” cards and silly presents. They make me smile and remind me that little things, like a kind word or a pop, can add up and build a friendship that can withstand the vagaries of distance, stress, and busy schedules. In short: life.

The measure of my life, and, I think, most people’s lives, will not be in momentous occasions. I believe that the measure of my life will be determined by the accumulation of the little things I do: the hugs and kisses for my children, the joys I share with family, the kind words I give to others. And I believe that those little things can add up to make a big difference in the lives of the people and the world around me.

Maria Levetzow

Once upon a time, I was employed.  I loved my job!  Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I was asked to take an early retirement.   “…and we are prepared to offer you a generous severance package.”

Huh?  I heard the devastating words which instantly filled me with the nausea of turbulent thoughts.  The order inside my head, till only a moment ago stacked neatly in a row, now lay in a pool of projectile vomiting around my shoes.  And I had to gingerly step around this mess to get to a place of sense and sensibility again.  This would take awhile.

Focusing in on the positives helped.  For over ten years, I was employed in a position that rewarded my natural instincts for buying well, and selling with conviction.  My investment portfolio was not stunning, but it was reasonably healthy.  My lifestyle was not extravagant, but thankfully perky enough with goodness inundated with laughter and intimacy. 

Of course, living with the devastation of lost wages taunted me a few times.  “Today, you lost $____, net pay.  By the end of the week, you will have lost $____, net pay.”  The dampness of cold sweat misting over me felt sticky.

So much to think about!  After a few days, I had to deliberately shift my thinking gears down from the vigorous and robust clatter, to a soothing idle rhythm.  I focused on the words I memorized a long time ago, “Walk placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

And in this quiet place, I began to journal the chronicles of my predicament.

Before too long, I received a generous offer from a large manufacturer who believed in my work ethics.  He wooed me shamelessly.  The attention was flattering, but the pressure to join them was not pretty.  Everything in me leaned so far away from the competitive business world that one small sneeze in my direction would have landed me on my back, legs splayed unattractively. 

But, was I being financially irresponsible?

I never went back to work.  It’s been six years now, and I am delighted to announce that I am financially responsible.  Retirement is sweet for me because my comings and my goings are brilliantly productive.  My new C.E.O. has seen to that!  Even if He is invisible to my eyes, He has carved these words in my heart with perfect deliberation, “Love Him, love others, and serve joyfully using my spiritual gifts.”

The simplicity of God’s truth continues to lead me daily.  His visions have become my visions to pursue. I sit snugly in the palm of His right hand, and He takes me on holy adventures way beyond my power of understanding.  Each one makes that chapter of my life read like a lovely fairy tale ending, complete with “happily ever after.”  Who could ask for anything more?

G. Chieno Beilstein

The fabric of society in supposedly civilized societies has become frayed – stretched, strained and subjected to innumerable pressures. Many of these frayings were imposed in the interest of adding value to life by increasing choices for people. This has actually diminished our quality of life and induced a mental paralysis, the result of having too many options, and too many decisions to make.

I believe in the innate power and virtue of simplicity. History’s most tragic errors and mankind’s most disastrous initiatives can be traced to conspicuous consumption and a desire for instant gratification. We have strayed from the notion of “if I work and save, perhaps someday I can own (insert commodity – a house, a car, a refrigerator, a business). These days the thought process is “I want everything, and I want it now”. The notion of what one wants, why one wants it, and what one may have to do to obtain it, is seldom considered.

Not surprisingly, conspicuous consumption and a disregard for the power of simplicity have increased people’s discontent. There is more dissatisfaction as people cease to value what they have, and covet more what they do not have.

Our lives are built around the notion that the person with the most “stuff” is the most successful. Ingenious manufacturers of “value-added” commodities have made it their business to cater to this notion, selling people on the idea that the health of the national economy depends on their continuing to spend, to choose from forty different types of coffee, eighty different kinds of cars, dozens of cell phone models, 32 flavors of ice cream, 500 cable television channels, and I don’t know how many types of computer hardware and software.

The concept is pervasive. Anyone trying to buy juice or cereal knows there must be a hundred different configurations and mixtures on the grocery shelves - some enriched with extra calcium, some with reduced sugar, some a mixture of cranberry and whatever fruit the manufacturers got a good deal on last month.

The result of this is more than an overextension of credit and unsustainable debt, which are bad enough. A more subtle attack is the one launched on our psyche. Being confronted with constant choices contributes to the stress that has become a part of our daily lives. From the time you get up in the morning to a given alarm sound to the time you choose which uniform to wear to bed, today’s consumer is in a state of near-constant dithering. Our society is more stressful when it should be more measured, more satisfying.

We overlook the virtue of simplicity - of raking leaves, reading books, having friends over to visit. Too often, what comes naturally is undervalued because it seems to come without effort. Simplification is, as one might expect, pretty simple. By moderating one’s consumption, and consuming what is needed, and by forming the habit of asking yourself “Do I really want this?”, many of our lives will be less cluttered and more fulfilling.

Scott Tunnicliff

I believe in learning. I believe it’s never too late to start and it’s always too soon to stop. From finishing a GED to completing a graduate degree, it’s not too late to buckle down and become a student again. The personal value gained from completing a formal learning goal will last a lifetime.

I believe in informal learning. I’ve never totaled up how much money I’ve spent on yoga classes, music lessons or books that I have read for no good reason. Where else can I learn the basics of a skill that provides me relaxation or entertainment or have a once-in-lifetime mental experience provided by a talented author? Even though I’ll never be one of music’s greatest performers or know everything there is to know, informal learning has helped me meet new people who share a common interest, has raised my skill level from beginner to advanced beginner and has broadened my view of the world.

I believe in street-smart learning. It’s a useful skill to be able to tell the difference between a straight story and an embellished one, between the honest truth and a full-fledged but artful lie. It’s taken me a lifetime to realize that not everyone tells the truth; that some people look out only for themselves. Honing my street-smarts has helped me sort through issues that seem to be a tangled mix of fact and fiction. Street-smarts have helped me discern when care for self is really at the core of feigned care for others.

I believe in learning through the school of hard knocks. I have made many mistakes in my life. Dear family and friends have died; I have grieved. As a student in the school of hard knocks, I believe it’s important to learn from my mistakes and my grief. Because it’s often difficult to learn from my embarrassment or sadness, the school of hard knocks promotes in-your-face learning that is hard to refuse. It’s a callous person who does not eventually learn that each one of us can rise from a fall and that we all carry bits of a broken heart within us.

Yes, I believe in learning, Perhaps it’s the inveterate student within me wanting another try at that clean sheet of paper we all heard about in first grade. Whether in a classroom or the school of hard knocks, I’m ready for that next piece of paper.

Joan Marttila

I believe it is possible to conquer the fear of public speaking, through practice and determination.

My belief began during high school after a nerve shattering experience at the podium of my first speech class. My presentation was about a review of the nervous system and I was an outstanding example. Because I believed in myself, I summoned the courage to continue my quest to face my own fear. The class was the start of a step toward the next level of learning about my own strengths and weaknesses and my inner fear.

One of the human fears is the fear associated with speaking out and speaking up in public, in a group discussion, in a debate or to family members. Many of our scholastically gifted members of society continue to suffer with the symptoms of this widely known fear.
Franklin D. Roosevelt said “There is nothing to fear but fear itself.” Facing your own fear is a task within itself. It encompasses hard work, drive, guts, stamina and self-determination.

I challenged myself to contact the resources needed to develop my ability to overcome the fear of public speaking. Opening up a door to another level of self is one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.

Conquering my own fear and motivating others to realize their unexplored abilities has been extremely rewarding. The belief in self, the exploration of inner talent and the discovery of a way to conquer human frailty is most important in shaping self-identity.
Preparation, practice and visualization have been key elements in my self-development. I imagine myself standing before an audience as a successful speaker and that the audience wants me to succeed.

As far back as middle school, I remember my desire to win the spelling bee and I was one of 9 finalists. The word “scissors” took on an extra “s” because of my fear of speaking and was mistaken for a misspelled word.

One of the Shakespearean philosophies of my life has been, “To thine own self be true.” Knowing my strengths and weaknesses has been the beginning of my own personal struggle toward self-improvement toward my fear of public speaking and prompted me to take action.

This I believe.

Gloria Avant-Moody

I believe in volunteering in my community.

 Today I had the privilege of meeting a wonderful woman.  We belong to the same church but she is unable to attend services so every week a volunteer drops off the Sunday bulletin and a tape of the sermon.  It was my week to make the delivery.  She asked if I could stay for a while, and we had such a pleasant visit.  This past week a church member who was a long-time friend and neighbor of hers passew away, and we cried together.  She is very proud of the house she and her husband built and is very happy she is able to stay in her home.  She worked outside the home for over twenty years, and we laughed about some of the action of her employer.  If I did not volunteer, I would never have had the opportunity to meet this delightful lady.

My volunteering has changed over the years, just as everyone goes through various stages of life: beginning with 4-H, community events, running club races, on to PTA and other school programs, to domestic violence and child abuse, to my current involvement with a local children’s therapy organization and an area gardening program.

I feel very strongly about being active in the community.  I have had the privilege of meeting and working with wonderful individuals, have made new friends and learned do much from the years of volunteering.  I sincerely believe in being involved in your community — not to be taking all of the time but to give back as well.  Every community has many volunteer opportunities, and I would encourage everyone to try it — it truly is a life-changing experience.

Bev Thies