One Book, One Bettendorf

It was on a golf course that I first learned to appreciate nature, artificial and manicured though it was; it had open spaces and trees around the fairways and greens. Four decades later I no longer played golf, but used the courses differently.

Let me apologize for our surplus of snow this winter. I must have brought it on by wishing so hard for the snows that I remembered from childhood, until a few years ago; snows that stayed on the ground for the season. For several recent years, wet snows covered for a few days and melted. Not enough for cross-country, my favorite form of exercise. Out on the expanses of our golf courses and parks, with trails through the woods along narrow creeks, gliding smoothly along, breathing clean fresh air, away from traffic odors and mechanical noises. It was exhilarating and invigorating.  Now that my wish came true and there has been plenty of snow, I’m unsteady on my feet, and my skiing friends have moved away. My courage has left me to go alone.

However I can still enjoy the undeveloped wooded area behind our house. I have seen spectacular sunrise color displays through the bare trees, and a large variety of birds, including an occasional bald eagle high in the oaks. I have seen squirrels, deer, ground hogs, fox and raccoons leaving intriguing tracks in the snow. Some of the animals are refugees from former habitats now covered with houses, buildings, and cemented parking lots.

I believe in preserving natural areas and keeping some open spaces around buildings and houses, and not paving over every inch of ground.

I miss seeing the cornfields along 53rd street, and I miss the blue flowering chicory and white Queen Anne’s lace off Kimberly Road on my way to a store. I need daily reminders of the natural world…”The beauty and mystery of creation-of the essential joy that is life.” (Quote from “Snow” by Orhan Pamuk)

Mary Rose Hawkinson

In 1689, the Japanese poet Matsuo Basho, while on a ‘walking tour’, described his journey. He wrote, “Each day is a journey and the journey itself home.’ I believe our trip through life, daily and cumulative, must be made one day at a time and that each day is made lighter by the presence of one true friend on the path.

I believe special friends come into our lives, unexpectedly, at just the right point in time, joining our journeys together. One autumn evening I was at a picnic with a bonfire on a farm outside the city. While we were engaged in watching toddlers play in the peacefulness of the surroundings, a stranger spoke to me. This young woman asked if we possibly belonged to the same church. Our journey began.

I believe a friend walks with one daily. We would phone each other and at the mere vocalization of each other’s name, we’d completely dissolve into laughter. At day’s end she was my release, and I hers. We would laugh for long minutes. I marveled at these wordless conversations. The more I laughed with her, the more I laughed each day and the more people I met with whom I could laugh. There were times my face ‘hurt’ from laughing.

Basho took someone with him on his voyage through the rough terrain of Japan. I believe a true friend is the companion who walks with me, not in my footsteps but alongside me in the course of the time we have together. It might be a lifetime.

We traveled together. Through my friend’s eye I saw the landscape, the beauty of the setting sun, the greenery of nature, the order of a formal garden. She took me to flower shows and I began to ’smell’ the roses. I went with her to see the Dead Sea Scrolls and eventually ended up at a seed emporium. She knew everything about turning seed into beauty. I was in foreign terrain and I learned to speak the language from her.

I believe friends share special moments. We celebrated Christmas with a Tea and her wonderful Angel Tree, filled only with Angel Ornaments. I once went with her on the coldest, snowiest day of December to the Amana Colonies to look for THE special ornament of the year. It was a relentless search and we laughed our way home.

I believe friends support us also on our spiritual growth path. I first experienced walking the Labyrinth with my friend. Together we took a class in understanding the Labyrinth and ways to experience the walk.

I believe Basho was right over 300 years ago when he wrote about the essence of the journey being precisely a journey within, daily on the ‘trip’ of a lifetime. The essential friend relationship is my journey daily and reflects the changes my friend brings into my life.

Margo Thornton

There is a concept known as “Tikkun Olam”. This is a Hebrew expression meaning “…the healing or perfecting of the world.” It is not at all uncommon for a bit of Hebrew text from the Talmud or similar source to be susceptible to two translations. In this case I take it to mean that to heal the world is to perfect it, as well. In what has come to be a traditional saying, Rabbi Tarfon said: “It is not incumbent upon you to finish the job (of perfecting the world); but neither may you shirk from it.”

I understand this to mean that it is possible for the world to be perfected only if every person, in each generation, does his part, contributes his effort to the good.

Rabbi Tarfon spoke his now-famous words in the second century of the Common Era. Through the centuries men and women of good will, persons of every religion, every nation, every color have made their contribution toward “Tikkun Olam”.

Throughout human history, many great men and women have contributed to “Tikkun Olam”. I am thinking of such great names as Thomas Jefferson and Albert Einstein, and many others. Some were not so well-known, yet their work has been important. These might include Martin Buber, Martin Marty, and Thomas Cahill.

Mostly, though, the work of perfecting the world is carried on by the millions of men and women who are not famous, and who do not even consider that what they are doing is part of this essential process. These are the people we all know, the ones we think of as “saints”, though they would not consider themselves to be such.

“Tikkun Olam” is more that a Jewish tradition or even Jewish theology. It is, fundamentally, a condition of our humanity. It may rightly be questioned as to the possibility of actually perfecting the world – though, like most of life, the effort is of greater import than is the result – but there can be little doubt that the reverse is true. Should we give up our efforts toward “Tikkun Olam”, the human condition will surely be diminished.

I believe in “Tikkun Olam”. I see it every day. I saw it in my parents, both now deceased. And, though I frequently fail, I continue to try to do my part in the work of perfecting the world.

L. Edward Sizemore

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

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