Brookfield Basics

It's time for a feel good story - wrapped inside of a warning.

In the final analysis the only thing that really matters on this earth is the people in our lives, be they well known and loved, or be they strangers we might encounter only once.  I met such a stranger Friday morning morning by the name of Riley.

I hesitate to write about this because it is not my intent to call attention to what happened.  But it was such a defining and revealing moment that I wanted to explore it.  Revealing because it showed me what a huge difference twenty minutes can make in someone's life, and it underscored the reality that when we talk about "helping people", we can only do so one person at a time.  It was defining because it showed me with stark clarity the capacity that each of us has to choose.  We can choose to sew the seeds of peace, or seeds of unctious self-involvement. 

I was in Germantown driving on Pilgrim Road, hustling to be on time for a "very important" appointment, when suddenly I was confronted with a different, and far more important one.  I noticed a young boy sitting on the sidewalk who was in obvious distress.  It was 8:15 in the morning; broad daylight in a "safe and suburban" setting.  I was deeply preoccupied with my meeting, knowing it was going to be difficult, and I figured he would be fine.  So to my shame, I kept driving for a few hundred feet.   

Suddenly I was gripped with the strongest sense of concviction I can recall.  The conviction took hold, I parked quickly, and ran over to him.  Kneeling down so as to speak eye to eye, I learned he had been riding his foot-powered scooter to school and took a nasty spill on the sidewalk.  He was clearly in pain but thankfully he was more frightened than injured, with just a scrape or two to show for his mishap. I assured him he was going to be fine, and after a few pats on the back and further reassurances, we stood up and started chatting.  His name is Riley and he is a fourth grader at MacArthur Elementary School.  I told him I had a son in the fourth grade, and that created a definite connection as his dark and worried visage began to relax and brighten.  I offered him a ride to school which was just a half mile down the road.  I hesitated to do so for obvious reasons, but I did not want him getting back on that scooter so quickly after his accident.  He accepted, and I took him right to the office to be sure he would be checked out and OK.  Lastly, and as a sad reflection of the times, I realized that his parents might be justifiably concerned upon hearing Riley tell them the story of a strange man stopping and giving him a ride to school.  So I made sure the Principal had my name and phone number in case they wanted to allay those concerns.

I think the feel good part of the story is obvious.  The incident left me with a feeling of bouyancy for the remainder of the day.  And I kept thinking of my own fourth grade son, my "Buddy", and praying that if he ever had such an accident someone would be there to help him.

So what's the warning in which the story is wrapped?  It lies in those few moments after I first saw Riley; the few seconds where I just kept driving, more concerned with my pathetic little meeting than I was with a nine year old boy in turmoil and pain before my very eyes.

That's the blessing Riley gave me.  He revealed with riveting and unflattering clarity, that there are two of me.  The one who attempts to do right, and the one who is content to "drive on", and let someone else deal with it.

I gave some time and some attention to Riley.  He gave me back a bit of myself.

I am in his debt.

I am going to take a break from blogging for a bit - don't know how long.  Given what is going on in the world my heart is just not in it right now.  And just as I am not overly interested in writing, I am certain you are not too concerned with hearing from me at this time.

How the heck did we get here?  That question can only be answered with a book or a few sentences.  I'd like to write a book some day, but for now, two paragraphs will have to do:

I believe that at the root of all of this political and financial turmoil is a lie that that to our shame, we have believed.  Post-modern intellectuals and our universtiy campuses have told us for forty years that things like "truth" and "morality" and "ethics" are relative; that there is no objectively definable and un-changing definition of such things. 

And I believe we have looked too often to Washington for every solution to every problem, when in fact the problems either originate or are magnified there.  It is time to look to ourselves, our beloved families, our churches, and our communities for solutions.  Big Government is broken - and I believe the only fix is term limits for Congress.

As we consider how we are going to navigate this crisis in our own lives, and as we consider who we are going to vote for at all levels of office next month, I ask that we all give some thought to such matters.

I believe it is time to walk what Jeremiah called "the ancient paths" again.  It is time to seek the simple truths that don't change and are not relative.

They are there - we just need to remember how to look for them.

Our energy policy in America today is dysfunctional.  And the reason it is dysfunctional is that Congressional (and Presidential) leaders are unwilling to portray realities to the American people such that we can forge a cohesive way forward.  They clammer and clang about being "energy independent" and "bringing relief to the pump", as if their empty rhetoric could make it so.  I believe both candidates, but in particular John McCain, missed an enormous opportunity by not making this a key component of the campaign. 

Reality Number One:  While we absoluely need to explore alternative energy sources (especially nuclear), there is no reason to believe that ANY alternative to fossil fuels is going to have a measurable impact for at least fifteen years.  So while we pursue alternatives, we also need to pursue every drop of oil and every cubic foot of natural gas we can.

Reality Number Two:  We would want to fully exploit our fossil fuel alterantives even if we were farther down the road with alternatives than we are.  As fragile as our economy is right now do you want it to be MORE or LESS dependent on the likes of Iranian President Ahmadinejad.    

Readers of this column know that I love northern Michgian.  Lake Michigan, the Au Sable River, the Leelanau Penninsula, Tahquamenon Falls - all have their claim on me.  I have written of her land, shore and water many times, and to the extent my heart can reside in a physical place, it does so there. 

I came to love northern Michigan when I lived there for nearly five years.  I worked for Amoco Production Company and spent many months as a roustabout working in the "oil patch".  And a result of working there is that I learned exploration for and production of oil and natural gas can co-exist comfortably with the environment.  I remember walking in the woods with some out of town visitors and telling them we were within one hundred yards of a producing oil well.  As they considered the dense forest and beautiful greenery, they simply did not believe me.  But a short walk down a trail revealed the truth, for the forests and fields of northern Michigan, topography that Melville would have described as "loveliness unfathomable", are replete with well-heads and pump jacks inexorably pulling energy out of the earth. 

While it is certainly true that the drilling phase is messy, sites can are restored to a level of pristine cleanliness that is all but pre-production, with only some trees cleared to make room for the well head equipment.  That was the case thirty years ago, and with the technological advancement that has occured since then, the energy companies can look for and produce this bounty with even less impact on the environment.  It is simply no longer credible to suggest that the exploration for and production of oil and natural gas is a significant environmental threat.  Yet many still cling to this tired and long debunked argument.

So what?

Well - Alaska's ANWR (Arctic National Wildlife Refuge) is currently sitting atop staggering reserves of natural gas and oil.  Estimates peg the amounts as fifteen BILLION barrels of oil and nine TRILLION cubic feet of gas.  And the estimates of reserves that exist off-shore are far greater than even these numbers. 

It is time to unfetter our energy companies and send the unequivocal signal to them that it is time to go and get it.  And it is time to realize that such a decision can be taken without trashing our responsibility to the environment. 

And the only group of people keeping us from doing exactly that is the United States Congress. 

I was on the UW campus Saturday afternoon and at the Badger game Saturday evening.  It was a beautiful autumn day, and I was again reminded of the myriad reasons that for me, make the pageantry of college football superior to any other sport.

The fans narrowley missed out on a Badger victory.  They also missed out on the tremendous and always entertaining performance of the spectacular UW Marching Band.  The band, already on probation from an incident two years ago, was suspended from this game for activity occuring on the previous week's trip to Ann Arbor, Michigan.  Officials are interviewing band members "one at a time" to investigate "allegations of serious hazing", alcohol consumption, and "inappropriate sexual behavior". 

Now here are a few quick thoughts.  First, for the University to suspend a band that is almost as much a part of the football program as the team itself, is a very serious step.  The timing of the suspension reveals this with even greater emphasis, for this was no afternoon game against South Dakota State.  It was a night game against the mighty Ohio State Buckeyes, served up to our sports-frenzied nation on live, prime-time television.  For officials to deny the kids this chance, and the invaluable publicity attendant with such a show, indicates that the alleged behavior went well beyond college kids just having some exuberant road-trip fun.  

Further, the suspension of the band prior to the results of the investigation being completed, tells us that what has been alleged was not only serious, but dangerous.  If the allegations are true, the University was probably exposed to enormous financial liability.  And worse, students may have been subjected to risk of emotional or physical harm.

Lastly, it tells us that someone was so alarmed by what they saw that they took it upon themselves to come forward with an anonymous tip to Band Director Mike Leckrone.  We will probably never know, but in all likelihood it was a student of small group of students that took this step.  If that is the case it was an act of tremendous courage, for doing so put the wildly popular and successful program in serious jeopardy.

As is typical in such matters, we can surmise that most of the kids in the band are great students and musicians, and that the alleged behavior is a case of a minority emperiling the entire group.  The protection of that majority is all the more reason to take swift and definitive action, along with protecting the University from potentially staggering litigation. 

The competition to be a member of the UW Marching Band is enormous, and those who wear the red and white have earned that spot with hard work and talent.  UW officials are correct in conducting a thorough and confidential investigation.  They are to be encouraged to take firm and decisive action against any members of the UW Staff or band that may have emperiled its collective good standing and health.  

Membership in the elite UW Marching Band is an honor and a privilege.

One that should be revoked if necessary.

In the interests of disclosure, I have no formal or informal relationship with the UW Marching Band, nor do I know any individuals currently associated with it.

I have no idea what the average age of the readers of this column is, or how many will recognize this title, taken from the lyrics of Neil Young's great protest song, Ohio.

He wrote it in condemnation of the fatal shootings of four students at Kent State University on May 4, 1970.  The disjointed and fractured guitar riff, the devastating salvo of lyrics that form the title of this column, and the hauntingly repeated background vocals of "four dead in Ohio", are imprinted upon the musical DNA of an entire generation.  

I thought of this song last night when I saw more sad news from Ohio.  Yesterday a Federal Judge there enabled thousands of people to register and then vote on the same day, without even modest checks of identification or residency to stem what will now be a tsunami of illegal votes in next month's Presidential election.  It is news that will result in many more than "four dead" voting in Ohio.   

Of all the important stories that are routinely ignored by America's hopelessly biased main-stream media, election fraud is the most serious and the most damning.  Regardless of where one stands on the political spectrum, we can all recognize the reality of the last ten years.  It is the reality of dramatic increases in voter fraud, along with one of our two major political parties that is consistently and adamantly opposed to even the most moderate steps to ensure that pople who ARE voting SHOULD be voting. 

It is a reality that will probably decide our next major election.

And it is a tragedy as great as the one Neil Young wrote about.