Personal

The Aussie & the atheist

What some people won't say about themselves with bumper stickers or tee shirts. I saw a charming one and an infuriating one this week. "Good grammar costs nothing," said the Asian girl's shirt in line behind me to board a flight. Such exhibitionists either want or deserve remarks from strangers, so I asked her what it meant. Standing up for the English language when most people no longer bother, she replied in a thick Aussie accent. My sentiments exactly, I said. Los Angeles would be her last stop homebound after six weeks of travel in Europe and America. In the worst economy since the 1930s to hear some people tell it, mind you.

"Religion stops a thinking mind," scolded the tee on a dumpy fat guy at the pizza parlor last night. It was illustrated by one of those stat-line medical monitor waves. Him I didn't accost because A, I didn't trust myself to be civil, and B, his childish plea for attention merits nothing so much as cold silence.

After a moment I realized the slogan was someone's oh-so-clever twist on "Abortion stops a beating heart." I wanted to ask his rejoinder to that undeniable fact, and to pile on with the additional facts that abortion really does stop (or forestall) a thinking mind as well as extinguish (or divert from this world) a feeling soul.

I wanted to challenge him for examples of societies where God is ignored or banned but free and noble thought flourishes -- or to refute the conclusive truth that thought has risen highest in those societies where God is lifted highest.

But it would have been a waste of breath, so I just ate my pizza and reflected on the late George Roche's mordant comment, "The world is full of slobs." Yet not quite full of them, for there is still room for the occasional grammatically idealistic Aussie Asian girl. And thank heaven for such as she!

Prairie family memories for Christmas

Americans typically are very thoughtful this time of year. We have retrospective thoughts about the past year and we ponder the future as to what the coming months will bring. We wish each other blessings at the celebration of the Christ Child, and glad tidings for the New Year. Our wishes include good health, happiness and prosperity. With prominent people from Illinois taking up a lot of the air time these days, my thoughts revert back in time to the folks in the Land of Lincoln that shaped my life and gave me the tools necessary to be a productive, law-abiding citizen. This year, prosperity and the lack thereof, are foremost in our minds. Yet, when I remember my parents and grandparents that weathered the Great Depression, I know our current economic climate is still a better place to be than where they were a few days before Christmas during the early 1930's. By example, they taught me what courage, sacrifice, and hard work are really about. There was a humbleness to those generations. There was no giving up; there was no thought of throwing in the towel and sitting on a street corner with tin cup in hand. They knew by instinct that within themselves they had the tools necessary to survive and make a better future for their families. Hard times had befallen them, but better days were within their power. It was their responsibility to make it happen. When stock markets crashed and torrid heat and relentless wind sucked the life and productivity from farm land, basically everything besides their faith and trust in God, the roof over their heads and their determination were taken from them. From scratch, they started over again. There was no time to complain or bemoan their fate. There was work to be done. Maybe there was a temporary WPA job to help keep the family fed, and some fortunate souls had a family member with a little more excess than average and that person shared a little to help sustain life.

It is important to remember that few families did not come back out of those hard times. It took varying amounts of time, but my ancestors--hard-working, frugal Germans--got busy and made good things happen in their lives. Some gave up along the way and some fell prey to illness and lack of food and medical care. Many infants and young children did not survive the Great Depression, but the will of most people could not be destroyed. Today, no matter how poor any of us are, we still have the blessing of being able to walk into any hospital in this country and receive emergency medical care, regardless of ability to pay.

My parents, born in 1927 and 1928, grew up in large families. They slept, 4 and 5 to a bed in unheated upstairs bedrooms of old farmhouses. Wood and coal stoves worked 24/7 to try and heat non-insulated wood frame structures. My grandmothers used every scrap of cloth they could find, including feed and grain sacks, to sew quilts and clothing for their many children. Not a scrap of food was wasted and had both of my grandfathers not known how to hunt, their families would have surely starved. Back then, gun control and gun rights were unheard of social issues. A loaded gun hanging on wooden pegs on the back porch meant the difference between having some form of protein to put into your children's stomachs and watching them try to survive on boiled potatoes. At age 5, my father was given the responsibility of keeping wood cut and chopped to fit the kitchen stove. He apparently was so accomplished at it that he was given the same job at the one-room country school were he received his entire formal education---8 years.

As did other young farm boys of his generation, he knew that his life's work was already determined. After volunteering to serve his country during WWII, he returned to the black loamy soil where he would live his entire life to embark on his career. He would be a servant and steward of God's fertile Illinois farmland until his death. He accepted his pre-ordained calling with pride and enthusiasm. He never failed at his work. He endured drought, flood, crop failures caused by insects and blight, and yet, many years he watched in renewed awe as bumper crops of golden grain flowed from the combine auger. During profitable years, break-even years, and years of loss, he always kept his eyes focused on the Heavens above, from which he knew all his blessings flowed and from whence his help came. His work was never done and the tremendous productivity of just his pair of hands always amazed me. He fed untold numbers of people throughout his career which ended at age 65. Thousands of head of cattle and hogs were raised and sent to market as a result of his efforts. He worked tirelessly, starting every morning at 4:00 a.m. Baby pigs came during the coldest months, Dec-Feb. He and my mother sat up many a night in a bitter cold farrowing house assisting little pigs into the world and getting them quickly under the heat lamp. When calves came in the Spring, he endured biting winds and sleet, walking the pastures to check to see if any of his herd needed shelter, a shot of penicillin or other attention. His calloused hands broke up ice in livestock watering tanks with the claw end of hammer several times during sub-zero nights. I remember those very coldest nights, he couldn't sleep because he worried about the livestock and would bundle up several times and go out to check on all of them.

The person that designed those heavy denim bib overalls had a man like my father in mind. Every little pocket and loop was re-loaded each morning with the tools of his trade--pliers, nuts, bolts, nails, a little spool of electric fencing wire, a little baling twine, electrical tape, a small livestock syringe and bottle of some type of medication, tape measure, book of matches, carpenter's pencil and more items I cannot remember now. He could predict the weather by the look of the moon or the sunrise or sunset, knew when a cow was about to calf, for the most part, could repair all his farm machinery himself, had a brilliant mathematical mind, being good at predicting the markets and knowing when was the right time to sell grain. He was a man of many talents, gaining all his training from hands-on experience. He was a woodsmen, chemist, vet, hunter, teacher, patriot, devoted grandfather, and a father I will always admire. He was a loyal neighbor, always willing to put his own work aside when a friend needed a helping hand. He could be counted upon, no matter what. He was shrewd and practical and frugal, but his heart was as generous and giving as the wide open spaces he dearly loved. He taught me to count the rings in a fallen tree stump to determine the tree's age. Riding shotgun with him in the pickup to go pick up feed in town or taking a ride to check all the rain gauges he had installed on fence posts at intervals around his fields after a shower, he'd point out wildlife and where to always look for them. He was smart, he was tough and he was a survivor. From my parents and grandparents in east-central Illinois, I never saw corruption and I never saw success taint a person's future. Instead, success was the result of hard work and a kindly nod from God above and certainly nothing to brag about, but rather, count your blessings and be grateful because hard times will come again.

Our country is seeing some hard times now. Sometimes I can't decipher between what is really horrific and what is media hype. My world, and that of my immediate family is secure for now. For that, I am humbly and greatly appreciative. I know there are struggles this Christmas for some families, but I know that is the case each year. Whether a lot of people are hurting or a few, the fact remains suffering and want never go away. That is the result of an imperfect world. Those that came before us knew the true definition of worry about tomorrow. They knew what it was like to put sick children to bed that needed a doctor but there was no money for that luxury. They used gasoline sparingly, and for many children of those generations, a truly wonderful Christmas would be the gift of a new pair of socks or maybe an apple or an orange. I was born in the 1950's when prosperity was abundant. In my lifetime, I've taken for granted much that my parents and grandparents would have considered absolute luxury. Some among us are giving things up now and it is painful. We aren't accustomed to a feeling of want, and we should be grateful to our ancestors for the bounty we enjoy. We should also look to ourselves to make straight our individual courses and make better choices if we have failed to do so.

There's a lot of talk right now about corruption in Illinois, and other places, for that matter. Power and prestige does that to people. A young governor from my home state comes to mind, along with John Edwards, a man that admitted to not having the fortitude to keep his personal life in check. He was lured into bad behavior as a result of a cult following that made him believe he was special and invincible. We have a new president coming in that is someone that has seen unprecedented laud and honor and glory showered upon him. Before even taking the Oath of Office, expectations run high that he will cure every ill around the world. Every problem that inflicts pain upon Mankind will somehow be reduced or eliminated. Two thousand and some years ago, a Child was born that filled the world with hope and the promise of change. To be lumped into that category must be very frightening.

Whatever 2009 brings to us as a nation, it is my hope for the coming year that our readers here, and Americans across this great land, stop once in awhile and think about how we got here and who in our lives allowed us to stand on their shoulders in order that we may prosper and thrive. In every life, someone came before that sacrificed and did without so that this nation would go forward by the grace of God, yet another year. Whatever challenges come, and come they will, as a united people, we will weather the storms of change and with God's help, the hopes of our Founding Fathers and the remarkable documents they authored with which we govern ourselves will prevail. God bless each of you at this Merry Christmas time, and may your prayers unite with mine that God will continue to bless these United States in the New Year.

With 12 days till Christmas

Last night the Backbone Radio audience was subjected to some wretched holiday doggerel performed by Kathleen LeCrone and me. Mercifully the composition was recited, for the most part, rather than sung. Without waiting for popular demand, we hereby provide you the lyrics. Aren't they an improvement on the timeworn leaping lords, French hens, partridges and pear trees?

If you can improve further on what's here, by all means post a comment.

With 12 days till Christmas, my listeners gave to me…

12 Looney liberals

11 Forwarded emails

10 Obama bumper stickers

9 Palin tee shirts

8 Limbaugh coffee mugs

7 Carbon footprints

6 Wall Street bailouts

5 Electoral College diplomas

4 Regifted neckties

3 Hybrid vehicles

2 Democrats named Clinton

… And one newborn baby in the manger!

Wishing you a very merry Christmas from all of us at Backbone Radio and BackboneAmerica.net.

John, Kathleen, Matt, Krista, Joshua, Karen, Matt, and Joan

Radio host's mission of mercy

Looking out the airplane window, on about the twelfth hour of a fourteen hour flight to Ethiopia, the hazy streak of water I’d been watching suddenly divided in the Sahara dust. The map suggested we were flying over Khartoum, where the White Nile and the Blue Nile become simply the Nile, en route to Cairo. As the plane followed the White branch southeast towards Ethiopia, it began to sink in that our team of twenty-plus health care volunteers was getting pretty far from home.

With two dentists, two plastic surgeons, one obstetrician and an assortment of nurses and students, the International Medical Relief team arrived in Addis Ababa and then flew to our destination of Mekele, a remote city in Northern Ethiopia not far from the Red Sea. It was August 2008.

Walking into the Mekele Hospital the next day, we found several hundred prospective patients on hand to welcome the Americans. Word had gotten out, with demand for health care apparently quite profound in one of the poorest regions of the eighth poorest nation on earth.

I was informed that 305 individuals had gathered around the dental clinic, marking a spectacle of chaos. The dental team lugged its bags and suitcases through the crowd and into the clinic, laid out instruments, set up a sterilization area and started the screening process.

Along with Dr. Don Vollmer of Castle Rock, and Keren Etzion, a pre-dental student from New York, we took down each name and set up basic treatment plans and arranged general appointment times for the week ahead. We were joined by two capable Ethiopian dental technicians and eight nurses who rotated into the clinic.

Over the next five days we worked our way through the list of patients. One after another, with subsequent patients thronging the doorway. The most necessary procedure, by far, was the extraction. Some patients required scaling and debridement – with periodontal disease almost universal in the area – and some inquired about fillings. On the occasional tooth which afforded reasonable access to a spoon excavator, we carefully placed Geristore dual-cure restorations and hoped for the best.

The dental chair was a creaky 1973 Dental-Ease model which could be moved up and down if you held the wires just right around the plug-in. A bent-arm lamp was used to help with lighting, though my battery-pack loupe light attachment proved indispensable.

It was a definite jolt to the standard dental routine to find myself working in a small, hot room with a dozen spectators around the chair chattering in Tigrigna, with dozens more clamoring outside waiting to get in. Working during the August monsoon season, a string of afternoon rain storms battered the tin roof of the clinic, offering the sensation of doing dentistry to the sound of machine-gun fire overhead.

The electricity often went out during these storms, leaving the clinic room completely dark save for a beam of LED light between my forehead and the tooth I happened to be working on. As the days went by, focused and intense, I realized I had stopped noticing when the power had gone off – just kept on working away.

Though many of the Ethiopian patients were living with staggering levels of suffering, in terms of their dental and overall health, I was amazed by their optimism and good cheer. Quick to smile, quick to laugh, you wouldn’t imagine that Ethiopians have endured the history of famine, war, and dictatorship that they have.

I’m not exactly sure what to make of that, nor am I sure how best to respond to such scenes of hope and heartbreak, courage and happiness against the odds. But I do hope to find time to work again in Ethiopia someday, and am thankful for the chance to have spent some days in the Mekele Hospital last August.

Matt Dunn, D.D.S., is a founding partner and frequent cohost on Backbone Radio. He practices dentistry in Denver at the Cody Dental Group.

Marshall Fritz, RIP

My friend Marshall was that rare combination, a devout Christian and a rigorous libertarian. Heroically he led the Alliance for Separation of School and State, and previously the Advocates for Self-Government. His death on Nov. 4 at 65 is a loss to all of us who remember Jefferson's warning that the natural course of things is for government to advance and liberty to recede.

Tributes are here. Friends are endowing a lecture series in his memory, for which donations may be sent to Fritz Fund, 1071 N. Fulton, Fresno CA 93728.