January 16, 2015

Look, it's no big deal. So the police were shooting black teen mugshots.

Seriously. I could pretend this was being made up. But it isn't. It's really happening. But no policy was violated.

Look, the Chief was interviewed, and he said that there was no policy violation, and nothing wrong with the police officers shooting mugshots of black teens. They even talked to the Major Kathy Katerman, who said the police often shoot at mugshots of latinos, whites, and even women. Now, she's a white woman, so if anyone would have the right to shoot at some pictures of white women....... Or something.



In other news, Congress isn't moving nearly fast enough on the killing cops is a hate crime thing. Damn it, the cops have a tough job, or something.

January 11, 2015

Adoption, the conventional wisdom is it's bad. I have a little experience, and I say Pfui.

Now, that means I was adopted. But wait, there is more to the story. My brother was also adopted. Now, I don't know if he's my real biological brother and I don't care. My Father was adopted by his parents.

There has been a growing trend in the media, that children who are adopted are always missing something because they don't have access to their genetic roots. I say this is nonsense. A family is about love. I mean unconventional love, understanding, and support. I have come to the aid of my brother, and he's come to mine. My Father supported me and loved me until the day he died. http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/magazine/please-dont-tell-me-i-was-lucky-to-be-adopted/2014/12/31/9e9e9472-6f48-11e4-ad12-3734c461eab6_story.html

I've never searched for my biological mother, father, or siblings. I have no intention of doing so. Part of my outlook on life is that People make the best choices for themselves and their families. So whoever my biological mother was, it doesn't matter. She made her choice, and I don't need to understand the why, the why doesn't matter. I was loved like any child. When I was a boy and I got hurt I saw the terror in the faces of my parents. I saw the horror that I had been injured. They paid for clothing, toys, school, braces, dental work, and all the other associated costs.

I don't care what my genetic tree looks like. I don't care where my ancestors came from. Nothing they did is my fault, nor my problem. I don't care if my ancestors were pirates in the Caribbean, or peasant workers in Lithuania. I am speaking of my biological family.

A Father is more than the guy who injected the semen that combined with the egg to start you. A Father teaches you right, and wrong. A Father tells you when you've done well, and when you haven't. He shows you the strength it takes to work a long career, day in and out, through good times and bad. A Father stands up beside you when you've done well, and when you've done something wrong and are about to have punishment handed out. I was fortunate to have one that loved me, and stood by me in good, and bad. When I had earned accolades and chastisement, he was there.

A Mother is more than the woman who carries you in her womb. She tends to your injuries, comforts you when you're sick, smiles when you're happy. She watches you and works with your Father to teach you those lessons you need so desperately. She teaches you that there is more than you, and then more than the family. They teach you your duties, and responsibilities to the family, the community, the society, the nation, and the people of the world. Decades of effort go into being a Mother, and I can't imagine having a better one than I had.

Decades go into being a parent.

Now, neither my Brother, nor I have ever had any desire to seek out our Birth Parents. When I called to talk to my folks about my decision to marry. My mother blurted out that she thought I had called to say I was searching out my Birth Parents. I know she could hear my frown over the phone. Why I asked her. She explained that those stories were all on the news, and she just figured I would want to. I told her then the one truth I have known since my earliest memory. I have parents, and I love them, and they have never shown me anything but love. Even when they punished me to teach me a lesson, I knew love.

Robert Frost said that Home was the place when you have to go there, they have to take you in. I had a home, and I put that to the test. During my life I have experienced some setbacks, as we all have. I had to go home. I moved into the basement, and I was welcomed. No questions other than how they could help me.

So to all of those who think that you are supposed to feel lost, adrift, or somehow incomplete if you aren't part of your biological family. I can tell you this. You are supposed to feel how you feel. I don't know why my Biological mother gave me up. I believe that she did it because she thought it was best for her, and me. I am in no position decades later to question her decision. I have no right to judge her now, decades later, for her choices. Those choices do not make me what I am.

While it is true we have genetic predispositions. Cancer, heart disease, and all of that and then some. What makes us who we are is our environment. The lessons we learn, from our parents, our schools, literature, and life make us who we are. I was not born a Democrat. I was not born Liberal. I was born. I learned the rest as time went by. I was not born to respect the ideals of right and wrong. I was taught that.

I have no idea who my Biological mother or Father was. I don't know why they gave me up. I don't know what happened to them afterwards. I don't care. While I obviously hope they lived long and fulfilling lives, I don't care about them more than anyone else alive at that time. My Family raised me, stood me on my feet, and gently nudged me out into the world. When I had to circle back to the nest, they welcomed me home. When they passed from this world, I wept at the loss, and thanked them for making me a good person, a good man.

I am grateful I had good parents. That they did not bring me into this world is irrelevant. I am grateful because I appreciate their sacrifice and effort. Because I was adopted, I know this truth. They would have done the same for any child that had been blessed to arrived in their hearts and called family. That's why I feel lucky. Because that child was me and my Brother.

Oh, and my Brother married a woman who had a child. That child did not understand why our family loved her without reservation. She did not understand for a couple years why we cared for her, and why we welcomed her so much.

She finally understood. You don't get born into our family. You get loved in.

January 10, 2015

The good cop conundrum.

There has been an argument going on for a while not just here, but all over. One side says that there are plenty of good cops you just don't hear about. The other side argues that they can't be that good if they lie, and assist others in lying. So in another thread I asked a what if. I wanted to start another thread with this.

Scenario, and let me make absolutely clear that this is a scenario, not a real event in my life.

In this scenario, I'm a Deacon in my church, a well respected member of the congregation, and of the community. My neighbor is also a member of the church, and attends every Sunday. He's generous with his time, helping people who need things fixed, an accomplished handy man sort of guy. He helped Mrs. Smith when her heater broke last winter. We'll call my notional neighbor Bob. Bob has a wife and kids, and I know them.

Bob was out on Thursday night. Bob was out and I know it because I saw him drive off in his truck. Friday morning Bob asks me to do him a little favor. If anyone asks, he was with me last night, and we watched the ball game. I agree. Later, I find that Bob is accused of raping a girl. She's in intensive care. I know Bob, and know that just isn't like him. I tell the police Bob was with me, and they put the case on hold. Because the word of a man like me is enough to stop the prosecution. Nobody is going to say that I, a man active in all those things is a liar on the record in court. The jury just wouldn't believe it.

I'm a deacon in the church. Active in charities. I help the homeless, and I donate to the animal shelter. Am I a bad guy in this scenario? I justify the lie this way. I know Bob, he's a great guy. Dependable, and if he's convicted, his wife will never be able to make it without him. His kids will grow up without a Daddy. It's just one lie. I'm a good guy, an eagle scout back in the day. One lie doesn't change all of that does it? Not one little lie and I don't know that woman, and she's nobody to me. Bob is a friend, and a neighbor, and this woman isn't in my church, and doesn't live here. She's a stranger and thus one of them. Bob is one of us. He stayed with me when my Dad died, and helped me through it. He was a pallbearer when old Pastor Hayes passed away. Who is this woman compared to that?

Does the lie change it? I have long argued that yes, the lie changes it. All your good works, all your good deeds have just gone up in smoke in my opinion. But I am anxious to hear your opinions. Does the lie make you a bad guy? Or is it understandable that you would lie, expected really in that situation.

If your word isn't good all the time, not just a vast majority of the time, then it isn't good ever in my experience or opinion.