I Was Wrong....At First

I made a big mistake. 

It started off rather harmless, really. I just had sympathy for the scenario, so I thought. 

I was weighing the options where this Penn State debacle was concerned. In case you've been living under a rock, here's the skinny:  Joe Paterno, the legendary Penn State football coach, was fired after a story broke that his former defensive coordinator, Jerry Sandusky, was arrested and charged with 40 counts of sexual molestation of eight minors. As if this weren't bad enough, the grand jury investigation (which went on for three years) referenced a particularly disturbing story. 

According to the report, Mike McQueary, then a graduate assistant, allegedly walked in on Jerry Sandusky sexually assaulting (read that "raping") a TEN YEAR OLD BOY in the shower at the Nittany Lion's facility. McQueary stated that he left and, later that evening, spoke with his father, who advised him to inform Coach Paterno of what he saw.  

Once given the info, Paterno informed the administration of what he was told. Sandusky (who was retired at this time and had an office in the facility as a professional courtesy, it would seem) was admonished not to return to the campus and had his keys confiscated. 

Here comes my mistake...

MY initial thought was this:  Well, Paterno notified the administration and it WAS their responsibility. And McQueary WAS only a graduate assistant. What was he, 21 or 22?  He was scared. That's only natural. Paterno said he would retire at the end of the year. That's good enough, right?

How wrong I was. 

Let me begin by explaining exactly who Mike McQueary is. 

McQueary was a high school standout at quarterback for State College High School, the "Baby Lions" whose campus was a few blocks away from Penn State University.  He was a Penn State quarterback from 1994 to 1997. The redhead still holds records in the annals of the Nittany Lion's history. After a failed stint in the NFL (Oakland Raiders) and NFL Europe (Scottish Claymores), McQueary came back home to Happy Valley as a graduate assistant.    In other words, he was groomed to be a leader for the Nittany Lions. 

By the way...in 2002 when this particular assault allegedly happened, McQueary was 28. 

Let me say that again: when this 6 foot plus, 200 plus pound MAN walked in on a grown man raping a ten year old boy, he was twenty-eight years old. Think about that for a second. 

Now, back to Coach Paterno.

Initially, I thought it was reasonable that he spoke to the administration. After all, he passed it up through the proper channels, right?

But let's stop for a bit. Joe Paterno had been the head coach at Penn State for 46 years. He WAS Penn State. There was no more powerful man on that campus than him. Possibly no more powerful man in the state of Pennsylvania. And all you could do was report to the administration?  No report to the police?

Why not get five of your biggest offensive linemen to go with you to Sandusky's office, then beat him within an inch of his life? Or at least ask him straight up what the deal was?  

The answer, it would seem, is that football teams are closed societies. They handle things internally, like police departments, military groups or churches. 

I believe McQueary saw what he saw and KNEW it was wrong, but thought about his career first. Had he turned Sandusky in immediately, or physically stopped him from raping the boy, he would have ostracized himself from the Penn State football family. His coaching career would have been over, or at least severely stalled. So he did what many weak-minded people do:  he did nothing. And NOW he says that he stopped Sandusky from continuing the assault. Here's my effortless refutation of his claim:  Hey, Mike. You stopped Sandusky from raping the boy, but you left the boy with him afterwards?  You're a liar, Mike McQueary. A BAD liar and a coward.

Joe Paterno chose his longtime friendship with Jerry Sandusky and his allegiance to football over the safety of a little boy. Shame on you, Joe Pa. Shame on you. 

Had Mike McQueary come into your office and said, "Coach, I saw Sandusky in the shower with Jay Paterno, III, your grandson. It just didn't look right. In fact, Sandusky had him in a compromising situation...", would you have behaved the same way?  No, Coach. I don't think you would have. I think you would have knocked over chairs and tables as you scampered out of your office to get your hands around Sandusky's throat. And that is the problem, isn't it?  These kids just didn't matter enough to you. 

I put my children's names in the place of these anonymous victims. I couldn't imagine, but I know there would be blood on my hands. With no remorse. Where was your outrage, Joe?  Where was your compassion, Mike?  It's missing. In favor of your allegiance to your precious institution. Your football program. 

God grants mercy to everyone. Be grateful for that. I personally don't have much for you. You shame yourselves. You shame us all. 

Say My Name

I was only four years old, but I have never forgotten it. 

I was blessed to meet my maternal great-grandparents, and to carry vivid memories of them.  My Mama Page was a sweetheart of a woman, making me feel safe and loved when I was around her. She was full of style and grace, a rather elegant lady who effortlessly commanded respect (and she could out dress ANY living being!!).

Now, my Daddy Page?  He was a CHARACTER!!  His shiny bald head and in your face style challenged my four year old sensibilities. Where my Mama Page's energy was soft and warm to me, Daddy Page's energy was frenetic and all over the map (sound like anyone you know?). 

My family and I drove from Alabama to Columbus, OH to see my mother's people that summer.  I have memories of playing with my cousins, piggyback rides from my uncles, and love from my grandparents.  I also have memories of Daddy Page getting me in trouble. LOTS of trouble!  Once, he sat in front of me and drank a tall glass of buttermilk, smacking his lips and behaving like it was the tastiest thing he'd ever drank. 
"Oooh, Daddy Page!  Can I have some?". "Well, I don't know," came the gruff reply, "I don't have much left.  And it's really good!". 
"Please!!" I pleaded.  Finally, he relented. 

Now, if you have ever tasted buttermilk, you know it's an acquired taste. Thick, and salty, it's certainly not a delight to the average child's taste buds. 

"EWWW!", I cried.  "Daddy Page, this tastes nasty!  I don't want it!"

"You better drink it all, or we're not going to the fair tonight!", was his sinister reply. I later learned that while I wept in the kitchen corner, he went into another room with my aunts and uncles and laughed hysterically at my predicament. 

But it was a particular moment I shared with my Daddy Page that is forever etched in my memory. 

The entire Page clan had gathered at my great grandparents' house. Too many cousins to count were everywhere!  I was so excited. I could not WAIT to play with them all!

Running out of the front door, I raced down the porch steps to the tree where my older cousin Keith was spraying my other cousin Ron with a water hose.  What fun we were about to have!

My Daddy Page, sitting on the porch in a chair next to my father, called for me. "Come here, boy!  Now, which one of Neicey's boys are you?"

"I'm Dion, Daddy Page."

"Oh yeah!  That's right. How ya doin' there, Leon?"

LEON? That's not my name.   Maybe he just didn't hear me. I spoke up. 

No!  My name is DION!

"Yeah, I heard ya there, Leon!"

From inside I heard my Mama Page's voice, filled with concern. "Hank, you leave that baby alone and let him go play with the other children."

"Aw, Mel Lee!  I'm not hurtin' this boy!  He's fine!", was my great grandfather's non-compliant reply. 

I repeated, "My name is Dion!"

That's what I said, Leon. 

Furious, I took a swing at the old man. My father started to move towards me, ready to punish me for my insolence toward the patriarch of the family. With an easy hand, Daddy Page waved my father away, as if to say, "He's fine.  If I were him, I would have taken a swing at me, too."

It went on for what seemed like hours.  I never got to play with my cousins.  He kept me on that porch all afternoon.  I was beyond livid.  Then.

I hear this moment in my head now, whenever I think of my Daddy Page. But as a grown man with a wife and children of my own, I can now hear the unspoken conversation he had with me. The dance we shared. 

My name is Dion! 

That's what I said, Leon. (Son, there will be people in your life who will try to define you. Don't let them.)

It's DION!

Yeah.  Leon! (That's right, my son. Maintain your identity in the face of the obstacles that will surely darken your doorstep in the future)

My NAME is DION!!   (You're angry now, but I'm speaking to the man inside you, Son. The man I'll never get to meet. Never forget who you are. You are made of strong stuff. Great stuff. Make this family proud. Honor where we've come from. Take your children further than I ever dreamed I could take mine. I'll be connected to you forever, My Son. You'll think of this moment, one day. This little dance between a man in his seventies and a four year old man-child, and you'll see it. You'll see and you'll understand how deep my love is for you.  Go well, My Son. I'm watching over you. Always.)

It was one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. And my great grandfather, MY Daddy Page, gave it to me. 

Thank you, Daddy Page. I now realize what you knew all along. You knew before I did. You found an ingenious way to impart your strength into a four year old.  You made him stronger than he ever could have imagined. I will always love you for that. Oh....and one more thing:

My. Name. Is. Dion. 

Be Well...

Parallel Universe

Been a while...did ya miss me?

Lately, I've been considering the concept of alternate universes. You know...a universe that looks just like this one, but with differences that starkly contrast our world. For example:

In a parallel universe, children are constantly being arrested for molesting Catholic priests. They ALL are acquitted!

In a parallel universe, Mormon women are allowed to have multiple husbands. They all choose to remain single!  (smart move, ladies!!)

In a parallel universe, there is a grassroots effort to "Keep Christ in Halloween"

In a parallel universe, Dr. Marcus Bachmann constantly gasps and clutches his pearls in public. (Wait a sec...that's in THIS universe!)

In a parallel universe, hurricanes consist of great land masses spinning into the oceans, causing catastrophic underwater damage. 

In a parallel universe, farts provide jet propulsion that allow us to travel at warp speed. Wanna reach warp 8?  Eat more beans!

In a parallel universe, "asteroid" is spelled with two s's.... and they smell like booty!

In a parallel universe, just before the Sunday sermon, pastors can be challenged for the leadership of their congregation. Fights to the death, out on the church lawn, followed by Communion. 

And finally...

In a parallel universe, I can simply think about writing this blog, and the words magically appear on these pages. 

Be well!

Energy Solution

Lately, I've been obsessed with politics. I usually am, but recent events have had me transfixed on all things political. Debt ceilings, budget concerns, spending...the full gamut of today's issues. I've pontificated with friends on Facebook and Twitter, winning approval from many and offending others. 

But today, I want to do something different. It occurs to me that I can't actually change any of those scenarios with my rhetoric. And, since I am a man of action, I want to spend my time on something that will have a cumulative positive effect on my fellow man. I think I've stumbled upon the PERFECT alternative:  I believe I have solved our nation's energy concerns!  

I know. I should have been on this months ago, but inspiration is a fickle muse and must be courted carefully. Allow me to share my masterpiece, won't you?

I intend to consult my Congressional representative for the purposes of introducing a bill to change how we collect our fossil fuel resources. I call it the Geological Auxiliary Systems Bill, or G.A.S. For short. Rep. Steve Cohen (D-TN) will be personally responsible for introducing G.A.S. in the hallowed House Chambers. After an intense debate, I fully expect the House to heartily pass G.A.S. by a wide bi-partisan margin. Paul Ryan will play an especially pivotal role in this, as his propensity for passing G.A.S. will become legendary.

Once this is done, G.A.S. will waft over to the Senate. Now, this aspect is critical, because here's where we let it rip with our new method of accessing our natural energy resources. We will institute a nuanced system of safe collection, known as Fossilized Aggressive Refinery Targeting, or "F.A.R.T.ing" for short. We will make F.A.R.T.ing the only acceptable process for tapping in ground energy sources. Because of how safe it is, F.A.R.T.ing in national parks will be permitted. This means we can F.A.R.T. all over Alaska and F.A.R.T. all up in our Florida wildlife preserves.

Institution of a regulatory board will be a key component, since the cost effective nature of F.A.R.T.ing will attract big business. We can't have them F.A.R.T.ing all over the place and F.A.R.T.ing uncontrollably. Overseeing this  board will be a  new cabinet level position: the Office of Prioritized Oil Oversight Tactics. The P.O.O.T. Secretary will make certain that, once G.A.S. is passed, F.A.R.Ting levels are maintained in a way that responsibly decreases our foreign oil dependence. 

There you have it!  We can pass G.A.S., cut loose with F.A.R.T.ing and make certain the P.O.O.T Secretary knows who F.A.R.T.ed, when they F.A.R.T.ed and where the F.A.R.T.ing took place!  

Whew..... I'm kinda winded!!

Grow Where You're Planted (How ministry manipulates people through guilt)

I've often heard the phrase, "Grow where you're planted" used by pastors in an attempt to convince a parishioner to remain faithful to a particular church. It seems logical, at first blush. If this was the place where one received their spiritual nourishment, the environ where one achieved a modicum of maturation in Christ, then perhaps one owes it to the congregation to reciprocate. Pay it back, as it were. 

Well, let us view this foliage analogy from a different perspective, shall we?

Often, more fragile plants are placed in pots. These pots are usually filled with rich, nutrient laden soil. The Gardener tends them, makes certain they are watered regularly.  Over time, the fragile plant of old begins to flourish. Where dry, withered leaves once rustled tentatively in the breeze, plush greenery now resides. A healthy, thriving plant emerges from the pot. Why, the very roots are even stretching forth to...

Ah, yes....the roots. How soon we forget the parameters of our position. As is often the case, plants may very well outgrow the pot in which they reside. There is no shortcoming on the part of the pot. In fact, the receptacle has not diminished one whit in it's nurturing efficacy. It has simply come to the end of its usefulness for THIS particular plant. With roots struggling to find new purchase, the growth potential of the plant is stifled. The only solution?  The Gardener (who has been watching the plant with particular interest) prepares a new location for further growth. A place where the roots can advance, secure itself and allow itself to blossom and bear fruit. To not allow this process would be incredibly callous and shallow of the Gardener. 

Too often, we stay connected to church organizations for the wrong reasons. "This is where my family has worshipped for years". "My children were baptized here".  Are those really solid reasons to stay put?  Especially when there is a call to experience another aspect of growth that can't be found there?  Hmmmmm...

I, for one, believe we should be passionately faithful to the move of God, no matter where the journey takes us. "Grow where you're planted"?  Sure. But be open to the MOVE of God.

So...what do YOU think?

Be Well... 

Is Marcus Bachmann The New Ted Haggard?

"We have to understand: barbarians need to be educated. They need to be disciplined. And just because someone feels it or thinks it, doesn't mean we're supposed to go down that road. That's what's called the sinful nature."                          --Dr. Marcus Bachmann "Point Of View" Radio talk show 2010

First off, do you even know who this person is?  Well, for those of you who aren't yet paying attention to the GOP candidates for the 2012 presidential election, allow me to introduce you to candidate Michelle Bachmann's husband Marcus. He of the aforementioned comment. He was opining on homosexuality, thus the "barbarian" reference. Now, I shall save my opinions on THAT subject for a later post. For now, I'd like to analyze (I'm gonna ignore the easy pun here..) the essence of Dr. Bachmann's statement, as it relates to his wife's campaign AND certain allegations.

Recently, a Vermont-based advocacy group called Truth Wins Out sent a gay man to the clinic (undercover) to seek guidance from one of Dr. Bachmann's associates. The man, John Becker, told the therapist that he was struggling with attraction to the same sex, and that the attraction was exclusively homosexual. Becker said he was told the objective of the treatment was to end his urges completely.  This type of "counseling"  is known as reparative therapy, and is a process that has been repudiated by The American Psychological Association.  Dr. Bachmann has previously denied that Bachmann & Associates utilize the controversial therapy, but clearly the undercover session tells a different story.

Two things here: first, this entire scenario portends bad things for Michelle Bachmann, who has said the bulk of her family's income stems from this clinic. Now, no matter what you think of the social issue, bear this in mind... A recent Gallup Poll shows that 53% of Americans support legal gay marriage.  Surprisingly, 28% of Republicans support legal gay marriage, as well. Politically, Rep. Bachmann's stance could be quite problematic in the general election, should she make it that far. To say nothing of the fact that this clinic has received funding from the government (Medicare, Medicaid), so there's also a legal conflict.

Second, (and here's MY point) there seems to be something quite telling about Dr. Bachmann's homophobic obsession. Methinks he doth protest TOO MUCH!  Seriously, in my experience, anytime a person spouts constant vitriol on any subject, it tends to be a form of projection. In other words, they are attacking a characteristic that they loathe in themselves. Could it be possible that Marcus is hiding a sexual struggle of his own?  Read that quote again.  It seems rather PERSONAL, don't it?  I think Dr. Marcus is hiding something behind his wife, five children and 23 foster kids (all teenage girls, by the way).

Listen:  FAR be it from me to call someone out for possibly being a closeted homosexual. Lord knows I have had my sexuality questioned MANY times (I think it's the high cheekbones and the flowery language, but I digress...). But I DARE you to watch clips of the Bachmann's dancing on stage at various campaign stops and not raise an eyebrow (or clutch a pearl, depending on your comfort level!).

Listening to these incessant homophobic rants from the Bachmanns, I can't help but be reminded of Ted Haggard and Eddie Long. How they used to spit venom on the gay community. And we all remember how those stories both ferreted out (OK...I did that one on purpose...I can only be serious for so long!!). Only time will tell. What do YOU think?

Be Well...

I HATE To Chime In, But...

I think people underestimate the concept of "beyond a reasonable doubt".  

Think about it: a life weighs in the balance and YOU are the one responsible. Is the person a liar? Yes. Is she dysfunctional?  Yes. Can you extrapolate a guilty verdict from that information ?  Perhaps not. 

I don't think anyone believes Casey Anthony will ever win a Mother or Daughter of the Year award, but the shock behind the verdict only speaks to the gullibility of Americans.  In our society,  the onus for conviction is on the prosecution.   It's called BURDEN of proof for a reason. And if you followed the trial from the beginning, they (the prosecution) dug a HUGE hole early, all but promising the jury a "smoking gun" of guilt. They were woefully inept in making good on that promise. 

So, for all you folks out there who were shocked, apoplectic, and otherwise disgusted with the outcome....here's the solution:  do NOT buy any book, watch any reality show or support ANY business/entertainment endeavor that Casey Anthony is a part of.  

The court of public opinion, it would seem, is still in session....

I want to hear YOUR opinions.

Be Well...