OK.  I’m officially involved in the race now.  And this is the woman who changed it all.

To be liked . . .
You are popular, at least for a season. People smile and welcome you when you walk into a room. Life is a little easier. Expectations are a little lower. You are simply accepted. You receive Christmas cards whether you send them or not. You get invited to the cool kids’ parties. You’re good enough. You’re smart enough. And doggonnit, people like you! But you would give it all up for just a little respect.

To be respected . . .
People guard what they say around you. You rarely see the “real” side of people. You are held to a constantly higher and often unrealistic standard. You are from time to time misquoted, and your name is often used for the gain of those whom you do not necessarily endorse. You are targeted and maligned. You are worshiped and revered. Your are unnecessarily credited, wrongly accused. And through it all, all you really want is to be liked.

I challenge you to look at those around you, at home, at work, at church, on the news. To whom do you offer your allegiance? Who do you like? Who do you respect? We see evidence of the above so much, even on the news. Reagan is revered now as one of the greatest US Presidents of all time. But when he was in office, he suffered the same sneers and jeers as any modern-day political leader. Respect.

We see Brittany Spears leave rehab as she tries to pick up the pieces of a shattered psychological existence. Front page news for the girl we praised and lifted up as a pop icon just two years earlier. Then we flip the channel and shake our heads. That poor girl. What’s the weather tomorrow? Yep, Brittany. We liked her.

America is starving for respectful leaders. Our homes are starving for respectful fathers. Believers are starving for respectable examples. And I firmly believe that men in general are starving for respect. But we are too concerned with being liked.

Like vs. respect. I think I know which I prefer.

Words can’t express how I feel right now. Anybody got a cigarette?

Go Fred. (Great website.)

Neither William nor Charles have a home. They reside rather among the streets of Downtown Nashville. William is 52. He has just been released from the hospital where doctors recently removed his appendix and portions of his pancreas. He is no stranger to hospitals. His life on the streets came just after a fall from a three story building shattered his right heel. He was working then. He is not now. In fact, he hasn’t for three years. With no income and suffering from severe health problems, this man who grew up the son of a defense contract executive is now walking through the night just to stay warm.

Charles plays the saxophone, tenor and baritone. He is charismatic and well spoken. He is a diesel mechanic and an electrician. And he is also homeless.

As I talked with Charles and William, I found it hard to understand why they were on the streets. These seemed to be reasonably intelligent men. They had education. They had verbal skills. But just because I can’t understand a reality doesn’t make it less so. In that reality, there are most likely two histories that are full of issues I could never truly understand, circumstances I could never comprehend unless I lived them.

During dinner, Charles talked a great deal. William contributed from time to time in his quiet, gentle way. Together with my friend Jeff, we shared a few laughs and a great meal with these and other gentlemen. Then we left.

Both William and Charles knew they would likely never see us again, and so they thanked us for our hospitality and kindness.

Jeff and I didn’t speak about this to one another. But we could both tell what the other was thinking. How does it get this far gone? What about family? What about government programs? What about churches? What about . . . me?

There are some who would make homelessness a political issue. The liberal might cast a vote for federal government programs designed to jump-start these men back into economic and/or social readiness. The conservative might stress the importance of local involvement and individual awareness, offering up faith-based initiatives as a better alternative.

The liberal might offer that we should do everything we can to get these men off the streets or at least out of the cold. The conservative might agree, but remind the liberal that more of these men should help themselves.

But while the two are struggling to right the wrongs of society through policy, William continues to walk through the night to stay warm. Charles continues to migrate from state to state working to save enough money to settle down in a location of his choosing, all the while trying not to spend his hard-earned money of needless expenses like shelter.

There’s a quote that is sometimes attributed to Winston Churchill:

“If you’re not a liberal when you’re 25, you have no heart. If you’re not a conservative by the time you’re 35, you have no brain.”

I wonder when it comes to issues like homelessness where in that spectrum I fall. That’s when I remember the words of the volunteer who stayed with these men that night after my friend and I left for our homes. “Remember,” he said. “These guys don’t need you to fix their problems. Most of the time, they just want to be warm, fed, and . . .”

catch this . . .

“to carry on a conversation with someone who will listen.”

Later, after a lengthy conversation regarding our favorite authors, William confirmed these words. “It’s so nice,” he said, ” to carry on an intelligent conversation with someone who cares.”

That’s when I realized why I was there. It was not to gain insight into the problems of social policy. It was not to fix anything for William and Charles, to find them jobs, or to set right the wrongs they had suffered or even inflicted. Instead, I was there to be a friend on a night when there was no one else.

Sometimes, a problem is so big that we never get started trying to fix it. So that night, I decided to start by not trying to fix anything. Instead, I put social stigmas aside. I laid down my prejudices and had conversations with two men that the day before might have never crossed my mind. These were not homeless men, they were just men. They could have just as easily been royalty.

And so it is that Jeff and I spent our Monday evening having a wonderful dinner with two truly wonderful gentlemen. Good luck to you, Sir William and Prince Charles. I do hope to see you both again soon.

Now that the memorial services have started every network is in full swing, covering his birth, his death, and a few highlights in between. This is (of course) as it should be.

However, I am shocked by the sudden surge among the media to quote the man of foreign policy. Everyone seems to be talking about what President Ford thought, at least about the war in Iraq. Why? I think we know why. Just ask Bob Woodward and his article in the Washington Post. The best way to side with mainstream media is to side against George W.

Of course, we all know there are usually two sides to every story, even ones printed in the Post. Case in point from from the Daily News. But the former President’s opinions are still enough to grant him arguably more press coverage than he enjoyed anytime after his Presidency.

Take, for example, the upcoming Newsweek cover.

Newsweek Cover
To drop Jan 8, 2007

Quotes below from Drudge.

Even before news came of Saddam’s execution, there was debate at the magazine about whether Ford’s death merited a cover story; some dismissed him as a “transitional” president, explains the magazine’s Jon Meacham.

Now, to be fair, Meacham goes on to explain why he decided to use Ford instead of Saddam for the cover’s top spot.

“I felt differently. There is much to learn from Ford’s legacy-one that we explain and explore in detail-and his brief, 29-month presidency shapes us still. This is not to say that Saddam is an unimportant historical figure: we have twice gone to war against him, and many American soldiers have died fighting him and his regime. But his death in 2006 matters less than his removal in 2003 does. America faces a terrible predicament in Iraq, and that predicament is the same today as it was on the day before Saddam was hanged.”

He continues: “There could be no greater contrast than that between Gerald Ford and Saddam Hussein, and word of Saddam’s death illuminated Ford’s grace and generosity even more.”

Forgive me if I find this explanation questionable. But then again, I’m jaded.

I do of course respect President Ford’s opinions, and I am very impressed with the manner in which he expressed those contrary to the policies of a sitting President (that is with discretion and respect). According to other news stories, these were opinions that he himself expressed to President Bush. (And I’d bet President Bush agreed in hindsight with most, if not all of them).

Farewell, President Ford. And thank you for your service to our country before, during, and even after your Presidency.

Yet even during adolescence (which my wife might argue I never completely left behind) it was clear that I would never be the cool kid I wanted to be.  I was too satisfied with being good.  Too bent on being normal, unlike my peers who seemed determined to push every envelop.  I was too much of a conformist to contribute to any kind of real diversity.  I was traditional.  I was too “goody-goody.” I’m sure to many, I was on my best day simply artificial.

Now, I am older.  I carry much more responsibility, and I am glad to accept it.  Yet, some things never change.  I am still “normal.” Middle class vanilla at its Baskin Robbins best.  A wife, three kids, a mortgage, you know the drill.  My politics are conservative.  I believe in local responsibility, state power, and limited federal government.  I believe in prayer in schools, in One Nation Under God (in whom I also believe we still trust).  I say “sir” and “ma’am” and mean them with respect.  I do not expect anything from anyone except that they do their part.

However, it seems to me that I have become the stereotype.  I am the “normal” that constitutes that which others would seek to redefine.  While some celebrate diversity as I do, there are others that care little for my way of life, calling it close-minded, antiquated, exclusive, even intolerant.  But who will tolerate me?  Who will look out for my way of life, my rights, my beliefs?

As a Christian evangelical (I think that’s what they call me know), as a conservative Republican, as an opponent to abortion and a proponent of prayer in schools, I have become the minority who’s rights now need protecting.  And there are others like me, who (like me) are not used to having to define and defend what it is for which they stand.  For we were once normal.

Now, to be what once was normal is to rebel against pop culture.  It is to swim against the current of mainstream media.  It is to guard the eyes and ears, the hearts and minds of my children against that which others would call normal, that which I do not.

Strange as it seems, it has become clear to me that normal is the new rebellion.