I draw heavily on the news for inspiration for these #25daysofpeace posts.  I tend to be listening to the radio and an idea pops into my head that I want to write about.  The days when I struggle to find a subject, are the days that I don’t listen to the news.  Today my drive to work was about 2 hours each way, so I had plenty of time to listen to the radio.  The problem with listening to the radio for that long is that I feel like I have too many things that I want to write about.  It has been interesting to hear the continued coverage of some of the topics we have brushed on during the 16 days of this project, and part of me wants to recap some of the stories we have tackled, but with the new information that has come out in the media.  We may do that someday soon, but today I want to focus on a very specific subject.

Want to guess what it is?  I’ll give you some options.

We have the Sony Pictures hack and the very interesting response to it, perhaps we will talk about that?  We could talk about the 140+ children who were killed by the Taliban in Pakistan yesterday?  Maybe I want to talk about Cuba and the historic events happening in our relations with them?  Surely there is always plenty of political silliness we could address?

Nope, nope, nope and nope.  I want to talk about something else, even though it might be a bit painful.  I want to talk about a new movie that is coming out this Christmas.  Or rather, an old movie that is being redone this Christmas.  Annie.

I didn’t realize a new version of this classic movie was coming, so I was surprised when I heard about it on the radio.  I started wondering what it would look like, how it would be the same, how it might be different, I wondered if it could live up to the standard I held the original to.  Now that I am home and have the power of the internet under my fingers, I can see a few obvious differences, but I have to assume that the general thrust of the plot will be very similar to the 1982 classic.

When I and my brothers were growing up, Annie was in the VCR an awful lot.  I don’t know exactly why we watched it so often, but I suspect that my younger brother may have had something to do with the repeated watching.  (This brother once played “I got you babe” by Sonny and Cher non-stop in his room for a month straight.  I still have nightmares!*)  Again, I do not know for sure, but I suspect one of the other reasons we watched the film was a bit more meaningful.

For those of you who do not know the plot of the 1982 version of Annie, I will quickly summarize it for you.  A preciously adorable little girl, Annie, is an 11 year old orphan who has lived in an orphanage for her whole life.  She meets and befriends an eccentric billionaire who wanted to adopt a little boy, essentially to be his heir.  His initial plans to adopt a boy, are turned upside down as Annie steals “Daddy” Warbucks heart.  Annie is still holding out hope that her real parents will come and find her, and as result there are some hijinks related to the reward offered by Warbucks to Annie’s parents if they should be found.  It is of course, at least partially a musical, and we get the songs “It’s a hard knock life” and “Tomorrow” (The Sun’ll come out…tomorrow…bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow…etc. etc.) from this film.

I won’t spoil the ending, but I do want to let you know why I think it was significant in my home as a child.  My mother was adopted.  She never lived in an orphanage, but she was raised by two people who were not her biological parents.  Annie had red hair, and to an extent my mother did too.  Life wasn’t always very easy for my mother, so I’m sure she identified with the truth of “It’s a hard knock life”, and I know that my mother searched for and eventually found her birth mother.  It gets even more interesting when I think about her dad, my grandfather.  Keith was easily every bit as gruff and tough as Daddy Warbucks, and I think my mother probably saw some of Daddy Warbucks in her father.   Ultimately I think she may have been subtlety been showing us part of her story when we were too young to really understand it.  My mother wanted to adopt a daughter of her own one day, but circumstances were such that it never came to be.

The important truth that I think she may have been intimating to us, long before we could possibly hope to understand it with words, is that she was once lost, but had been found by loving parents who did their best to take care of her.  She probably felt a mixed sense of sadness that she was an orphan, but also a sense of completeness that she had been adopted, brought into a family that loved her in the best way it could.  I never really got to talk to her about this, so there is a lot of speculation involved here, but what I am surmising seems consistent with what I knew of her.

Unfortunately, life isn’t a musical for so many kids today.  There is no guaranteed happy ending, and not everyone gets adopted.   In just the U.S., statistics suggest that nearly 400,000 children are living without permanent families, and of these, more than 100,000 are eligible for adoption.  In 2012, more than 20,000 of these kids aged out of the foster care system without a permanent family.  The statistics are blurry, (I haven’t had time to do much research) but the picture they do paint is one of despair and hopelessness for those who age out of the system.

Is this okay?  Are we as a nation okay with this?  I know that not everyone is equipped to adopt or foster a child, and that the process is very difficult to work through, but it seems like the numbers are so large that we could surely do something to make an impact in them.  I can’t go as far as to suggest that you adopt or foster a child, I have no place to do that, but I want to know if we can do better.  Does this seem loving or peaceful that we have so many broken kids growing up essentially alone?

I have never really considered all of the implications of adoption, or the numbers who never find a permanent home, but I hope that I can be more aware of it now.  I don’t know that I have the ability to do anything to change the equation, but if I stumble across the chance, I hope that I recognize it for what it is.

To close I’m including a video 2 of my friends made about adoption.  Joe and Becca are a musical duo touring the U.S. and sharing concerts and ministry with anyone who will accept them, and they do not demand payment for their time.  Adoption is close to their heart, and to the heart of some of their friends.  Check out the video (which features their music, and was made by The Coopers and shared with Joe and Becca) and ask yourself what you can do to help bring a little bit of peace into the life of a lonely and abandoned child.  Not everyone can adopt or foster, but everyone needs a place to call home.

You can check out theSurrendering to find more of their music, including a music video I helped them shoot a few months ago.  They are some pretty awesome people!

A HUGE thank you to everyone who has donated to our Charity Water campaign so far!  I am humbled by the anonymity you have all chosen!  You guys rock!

* Just kidding about the nightmares bro.  I love you.

#25daysofpeace (An Introduction)

I have probably missed the boat on the whole Ebola craze, if my memory serves it seems to have reached a peak in September and fallen mostly out of news cycles by early November.  It hasn’t fallen out of the news because the problem has been solved, but rather because we are no longer worried that Ebola will find a foothold in the United States.  It was a little scary there for a few weeks, especially when the nurses in Georgia got sick.

I am a little hesitant to admit it, but when I realized that one of the infected nurses found her way to Ohio, I actually considered for a few moments that I was not invulnerable to the disease.  There was a bit of a sinking feeling that I had not expected to find.  I was aware that the chances of an actual outbreak in the United States was very small, but I was still caught off guard by the sudden nearness of something that had always been so far away.   It brought a small dose of reality and levity when I stopped to consider that Ohio is no idyllic state, free of disease.

I had been aware of the coming crisis in Africa since early March, and had found pride in my advance knowledge of this horrible disease.  So when the news became a sensation in the U.S. I was actually a little unimpressed by our reaction to it.  It was almost as if I was a news hipster saying “I knew about Ebola before it was cool”.  I felt like my attention to world affairs had earned me the right to sit in judgment on those in our nation who had only recognized it when it became a threat to our individual interests.  I found the media hype about a potential U.S. outbreak distasteful and distracting from what I felt where the important issues at hand.

USAID photo of doctors preparing to treat Ebola patients.

I have a distaste for the reported inefficiencies of the organization tasked with handling this international plague, and felt that our media energy could have been better directed at those who failed to take adequate steps to stop the spread of Ebola than it was in paying attention to the talking heads who alternately assured us of a hideous future or a safe and secure one.  I felt like the dramatic uptick in media attention we experienced in September could have brought more resources to the fight if it had happened earlier.  I felt that the earlier mass media attention could have saved lives and altered outcomes for those in need.

As I sat in my car listening to the stories on the news, I grew more prideful and more arrogant with each update to the story of Ebola in the U.S.  “I knew about this so long ago, why didn’t everyone else?” was a question I asked repeatedly.  I may have even said something to the effect of “If the U.S. can’t be bothered to take notice of a plague before it reaches us, we deserve to suffer.”  I was a self-righteous and indignant little hipstervist.  (I think I just created a word…a hipstervist is henceforth defined as “An activist who smugly claims prior enlightenment to a coming humanitarian crisis.”)

It is only today, while reflecting on Ebola, that I have recognized a reason to truly be upset.

I did nothing.

I made no effort to bring Ebola to the attention of those around me.  I never considered calling my medical friends and asking them to come with me to serve in Liberia or Sierra Leone.  I did not send a single donation to any organization working directly to combat Ebola, nor did I offer them my time as a volunteer.  I, who had prided myself on knowing about Ebola so early, had done absolutely nothing to stop it.  I was worse than all of those who were unaware of the epidemic until September, and I had the gall to act as if I was a great man who had changed the equation single handedly.

You could suggest that I had no reason to become personally involved.  Surely that absolves me of some of the guilty?  Alas, if only that were true.  I listened on the radio as people serving in an organization known as SIM became sick.  One of my friends is in West Africa right now, serving with SIM.  He is in a country that was right on the edge of the area with Ebola infections.  I did nothing to help him or his organization when they were in need.  My friend is still okay, and it looks like his country will not have to worry about Ebola from this epidemic, but this is no thanks to me.

Unfortunately there is more.

I sponsor a child in Senegal.  Ebola found its way to Senegal.  I noted the spread of Ebola to Senegal with some distress, after all, my sponsored kid could become one of those statistics I was hearing on the news.  I still choose to do nothing.  Not a letter, not an extra donation, nothing.  It was as if I didn’t exist to my sponsor kid.  I saw, and I chose not to act.

Bailo, my Senegalese sponsored child.

There is a parable told of a man who was beaten and left to die on the side of the road.  It is said that many people pass the beaten man in his distress and refuse to address his obvious need.  A man whose nationality would have made him the traditional ethnic enemy of the beaten man sees his ethnic enemy in distress, and is the only person who stops and helps.  This man puts the beaten man on his own donkey, and delivers him to an inn keeper.  He pays for the beaten mans stay, and leaves money to cover any additional expense, with a promise of more should it be required.

That man was a true neighbor and friend to someone in need.

I walked right by.

Blessed are the peacemakers…not those who walk by.

#25 Days of Peace (An Introduction)

Sometimes when WiFi isn’t working, you have to write posts from your phone…It is not ideal, so I ask that you bear with me as my capability for editing and structuring this post is significantly reduced.  Also…there are no pictures (which is a dang shame cause there are some awfully cute kids being born right now)..my apologies.

I have a friend who swears that every baby she sees is “the cutest baby ever” and proceeds to tell me she “really means it this time” when I ask about all the other kids who have previously held that title.  I think she might actually believe herself every time she says something like that.  Fortunately her delusion is harmless so I continue to let her believe what she will about each little bundle of joy.

There is something innocent (and at times peaceful) about a baby that can melt even the toughest heart.  Except mine that is…but everyone else just turns to mush at the quirky little half smiles of a newborn baby.

There has been an incredible spate of births hitting my Facebook feed this week.  Literally 3 newborn babies plus at least 1 or 2 gender announcements or ultrasound pictures.  They are all adorable (as you would expect) and you can tell the parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents and great grandparents are all thrilled with the new addition to the family.

One of the beautiful things about a new child is the incredible amount of potential that is contained in that little bundle of joy.  That kid could grow up to be the next Nobel prize winner, cure cancer, or create lasting change in the world of art.  Or the kid could become a great father someday,  adopt children, or even be a good friend to someone in a time of need.  The potential is there for all of these things and more!

One of the other things I find appealing about babies is their indisputable equality.  They all come into the world naked and knowing nothing beyond the womb they just left.  (Or if they do know things, they can not express it!)  The playing field is totally level and any baby that is willing to work hard can be anything it wants to be.  If I had worked just a little bit harder as a child, I could have been the son of the president of the United States.

Hopefully by now you realize that I do not actually believe certain parts of those last paragraphs.  The truth of the matter is that we are born into unequal circumstances, and as a result our potential for growth is affected.  Try as I might as a young child, MY work can never result in my father becoming President.  I may someday rise to the presidency, (“You’ve got nothing else to lose.” ~Stairhime 2016) but I will never have the same opportunities as someone born as the son of a president.  Perhaps if I had been born the son of the president, I would have risen to become Intergalactic Emperor for Life Stairhime.  We can never know.

This becomes more practical (and less humorous) if we consider the plight of those who were born into circumstances of extreme poverty or a country where freedom is just a sparkle in the eye of a revolutionary.  Perhaps you are born in a country where clean water is not available to clean you up after birth, and you catch a debilitating disease right out of the gate.  You could not choose where to be born, your fate was unavoidable.  You will struggle against the disease, wasting energy your body would rather be using to grow healthy and strong.

The three babies who were born this week were not born into the same circumstances.  Their families occupy different socioeconomic strata, and one the babies was born 2 months premature.  They will lead different lives and have different experiences, and the world will try to convince you that they belong to different classes.  They are all immeasurably better off than someone who was born in a developing nation, and the world will try to keep them seperate from those born in less fortunate circumstances as well.

While there is an argument to be made for being strengthened by facing hardship…It doesn’t count if the hardships kill you before you get started.

We need to remember that regardless of circumstance and privilege, we are all human.  We can not escape from that.  We need to ask ourselves what we can do to help level the playing field for those born outside of the United States.

Http://my.charitywater.org/25daysofpeace

Readers…I do not often write explicitly political pieces on this site.  I actually created a whole different website where I and others could share our political thoughts without polluting the tranquility I like to be found here at joshuastairhime.com.  So I ask your forbearance for this piece, and for one more which will follow in the near future.  I believe the discussion contained below is important for our countries future peace, it is because of this that I have included it today.   

If you follow domestic politics at all, you will have noticed that congress has been playing a game the media calls “kicking the can”.  They played another round last night when the Senate narrowly passed a budget bill.  The media has described the process as kicking the can because the bill they have passed requires another vote next year to avoid another potential government shutdown.  We have been in a cycle of kicking the “government shutdown can” just far enough down the road to keep the government open (except that one time of course), and we repeat this massive political battle every few months.

Now let me be clear that I do not want to propose a solution to this particular manufactured crisis, because political policy is not the focus of this 25 day project.   I do, however, want to speak to the divided nature of our national government.

Do you remember the way high school seemed to work?  A small group of classmates were in positions of power, and they were able to greatly influence the course of events for our class.  From their ranks rose homecoming kings and queens, and the student council members were drawn from their membership as well.  Being a member of this group did not require a particular skill set or a certain level of personal character, but rather the right last name or access to vast “resources”.  I was not a part of this elite group of decision makers (nor did I desire a place among them) and was content to ignore every decision foisted on me to the best of my ability.   I do not propose that every high school works precisely this way, but I have seen it played out as a stereotype in so many different television shows or films, that I suspect there is a large amount of truth to be found in the stereotype.  Art mimics life, after all.

My class actually ended up with pretty decent “elected” officials, but if you were not one of the elite, you could do very little to influence the course of the class.  Had our group of elites been tyrannically or despotic, we would have had little to no recourse.  The removal of one malfeasant would have been difficult, the removal of all impossible.  They had enough organization to protect the whole, if not every individual.

I only wanted to affect the outcome of one class event in my entire high school career.  I had the good fortune to have been “adopted” by one of the elites of our class, and was able to persuade him to pursue the idea I had, but it meant that I must sacrifice my recognition for the idea so that it could be presented as his own.  This was never openly discussed, but we both knew what had to happen in order for the idea to succeed.   We were successful, the idea was a hit, and the credit fell to my elite friend.  He was happy to have been seen as the source of a good idea, I was happy that the idea had come to fruition.  We were both happy with the outcome, there was no need to renegotiate or regret the terms of our deal.  (I still do not regret the terms, I only bring this story up as a tool for illustration.)

This same system of power is at work in our national government.  We are not as aware of the system in play as we were in high school because of one subtle modification the elites have made to disguise it.  We like to think that our congressmen are elected because of intrinsic value in their character, but if we honestly consider those in power, we will see many who are unsuited to effective leadership occupying leadership positions.  These unsuitable elites are selected through the unacknowledged power of R&D.  The unsuitables often rise to prominent positions within the government, chairing various committees and taking the national spotlight in times of crisis through charisma and a penchant for absurd hyperbole.  The power of R&D keeps them there.  Just as our classmates were advanced in status by last names and resources, so our leadership is often put in place by one small letter appended to their titles.  The mighty (R) and illustrious (D).

(R) is represented by red, (D) by blue. Notice the lack of purple, yellow, green, fuchsia, mango, avocado, or any other color.

If we are ready to pursue a more effective and peaceful government, we need to recognize our predisposition to electing those we see as our allies, instead of electing those who are best for the job.  Unlike the cliques of high school, I can choose to be a part of one of these two cliques, and by choosing one I feel a sense of belonging or ownership when “my side” has won a critical debate or decision.  By providing two ruling parties, and allowing us to feel ownership in them, the elites have disguised their system of dominance, and distracted us from its shortcomings.

Is this really a problem you ask?  Don’t the two sides keep us balanced, and prevent us from toppling over the edge into some unforeseen disaster?  The narrative is such that if we did not have 2 diametrically opposed views, a dastardly third view could enter the fray and send us hurtling in a new and unpleasant direction.  If R&D weren’t so strong, the C (communism) or S (socialism) could win!  By providing two directly opposed views, each side gets to blame the other for the lack of progress.  The third party is vilified by both sides, so it is assured failure.  It is as if our minds are saying “If even the enemy (the party you do not identify with) thinks these people are bad, they must be our generations Hitler seeking to rise to power!”

The Senate has the rare distinction of having 2 independents. They are the slightly less blue circles in the middle. Only 2 independent voices representing an entire country…

Congressional approval (of both sides) fell to roughly 10% this summer.  10% of our country thought that congress was doing a good job.  If this is not indicative of failure, we need to change the grading scale.  If my employer was only 10% satisfied with my work, I would not have an employer for much longer.

The R&D protect and elect the inefficient and the ineffective.  The status quo is maintained.  The tragedy of this is the loss of new solutions to problems we have not yet solved.

I could have never proposed my idea to my class as my own.  It would not have been accepted because I was not of the elite.  Did my social/political status change the quality of the idea?  In our current government, I would do exactly as I did in high school.  In order to be elected I would have to choose to join R or D, and then hope that my idea could be accepted as an idea of the party.  This is my only chance at making change.

Unfortunately to be in the club for R & D, you are expected to vote in certain ways.  If you stray from the party line, you risk being branded as an independent in disguise, and risk being separated from the incredible electoral power of your party.  This separation from the influence and resources of R or D will likely be the death knell of your career.  Those in congress who in ideology are truly independents must disguise themselves to have any hope of fulfilling the will of the people.

We have two years before the next major elections.  I submit that we the people are going to have to start electing “third party” members.  If we do not, those with fresh and new ideas will never be able to share them for the betterment of our country.  As more independent or third party members are elected, those good officials who have been hiding beneath R or D may feel that they can emerge from hiding and make the compromises their party will not allow.  To ensure our peace as a country we must begin to dismantle the status quo, before our elected officials become despotic and tyrannical!

Our future peace as a country depends on it.

Every penny we raise makes a difference and brings clean water to someone who did not have it before. Whether our goal is reached or not!

#25 Days of Peace (An Introduction)

Today we have reached the halfway point in our little 25 day journey.  With the completion of this, the 13th post, there will only be 12 posts remaining to be written.  So far this journey has not been the most difficult thing I have ever undertaken, but it certainly has not been the easiest either.  When I wake, the awareness that I must write something today is one of the first coherent thoughts my mind forms.  So far I have not missed any deadlines, though it has been surprisingly close a few times.  Tonight will be one of those times.

To an extent, I am at the mercy of inspiration, a thought that takes root in my mind and guides me to a revelation or observation about the world and how peace is a part of it.  I have a list of topics, but they are only useful if I can find one I connect with enough to write about.  As we reach the middle point today, I find that I am running out of time, and the only inspiration I have is a repetition of an earlier idea.

Endurance is the word that comes to mind for tonight.  Endurance is described as “the fact or power of enduring, bearing pain and hardships”.  It is very similar to persistence, which is described as “lasting, especially in spite of opposition”.   I spoke of persistence in pursuing peace by highlighting an organization that I feel has shown persistence in pursuing its stated goals of peace.  They have continued to put energy and passion into their cause, and we hope that one day they will see the fruits of their labor.

Me in my younger days. Enduring like a boss. Pretty swag glasses too! I’m roughly 30 some miles into a run at this point.

To me endurance is a more familiar word.  I occasionally run endurance races, half marathons and marathons are long races which require many steps to reach the finish line.  It is this that brings to mind a thought for our path towards peace.  If you successfully complete a normal marathon, you will travel 26.2 miles on foot.   Since people are built differently, we all have different strides, but most people completing a marathon will take between 30,000 and 45,000 steps.  That is a LOT of steps.  Assuming that I have a roughly 3’ stride, in my recorded running career, I have taken 1,355,200 steps.

Do you know how many of those individual steps I specifically remember?  To be honest, I really only remember one specific step in the middle of one of those marathons that resulted in a twisted ankle.  I remember that I felt pain, but I do not remember what the pain felt like.  The rest of the remaining million plus steps are lost to my memory.

The running component of a marathon is very monotonous.  You lift your right foot, push forward with your left foot, and then your left foot leaves the ground.  Your right foot strikes the ground ahead of it, and pushes against the ground as your left foot travels forward to strike the ground ahead of it.  Repeat this process over and over.  There is little variation.  To finish a marathon, you have to continue to take steps until you are done.  Frankly, a large part of the mental ability you need to finish a marathon is the ability to deal with boredom, especially when you are slow like me.

Max and I at the end of a 32 mile race. It was cold, and we were hungry.

Our individual path to peace is not a sprint, but rather a marathon, filled with step after step that could be mind-numbingly similar.   As you strive towards peace, you will find yourself offering forgiveness over and over, you will adopt an attitude of selflessness over and over, you will probably make similar sacrifices over and over.  It will get old, and you will be tempted to quit.    If you are a pursue peace like I run races, you might even find that your steps slow down, it takes longer to make them.  Occasionally your forward progress will even completely stop.

I have so far avoided running the wrong way in a race, but as you pursue peace, you might find that you have somehow gotten turned around, and you will have to retake steps you have already taken.  You will feel like kicking yourself for having to cover the same ground again.  Your desire to quit may threaten to stop you in your tracks.

After such a boring and monotonous description of pursuing peace, you may even wonder if it is a journey worth beginning.  You might be asking me right now why I run endurance races.  What could possibly drive anyone to complete such a monotonous task?

My friends, the finish line is calling.  It is for this reason alone that we must not cease our efforts before we reach it.  No one puts a “23 out of 26.2” sticker on the back window of their car.  Only those who finish boast of their accomplishments.

When you cross the finish line in a race, there is a celebration.  Imagine the celebration we will enjoy when we have obtained peace.  It will be worth it, and the memory of the monotony will quickly fade.

With endurance we strive towards our goal, every penny we raise makes a measurable and real difference.

#25 Days of Peace (An Introduction)