danielredbeard’s weblog

Dear President Obama and Members of Congress,

I am a 32 year old business owner, home owner, father, and husband living in Wyoming, Ohio. Your actions in 2009, and proposed actions for the coming years are why I write.

The biggest problem with any given industry in America is your involvement. Government oversight and greedy taxation are the core reasons why industries of any type do not innovate as much as they could. In short: you hamper progress, and need to remove yourself from the situation.

My tax bill, which I pay 4 times per year, is the single largest expense for my business and personal life. If the federal govt. stopped bleeding me, and reduced my tax bill to a flat tax of 10%, I could hire 2 full time employees tomorrow.

Please know that you do not create jobs – I do. I know it feels good to get on the stump every 2, 4 and/or 6 years and talk about the jobs you “helped” create, but let’s be honest: You really just get in the way of the people who are actually creating the jobs. You are not in the field, sitting across a desk, writing proposals, or pressing flesh of prospects knowing that your employees’ pay check depend on growing and sustaining your cash flow.

No, instead you think up, write and pass laws that get in our way. You tax us and reap the profits. You are greedy and inefficient. If the USA Fed. Govt. were a publicly owned company (oh the irony), your stock would be junk. But since you get the Populist stamp of approval from dolts who might as well be chanting “4 legs good, 2 legs bad,” you are perceived as the good guys.

You’re not. You are a pain in my ass.

Regarding health care:  Currently I buy a private policy for my family, and it is an HSA. We’ve had it for almost 2 years, and it’s fantastic. It’s cared for my son since he was 2 months old, and covered a lot of my wife’s recent leg surgery which under your proposed plan would have been considered elective surgery – she no doubt would still have the ailment today if we had your proposed plan.

Please walk slowly away from your hopes of health care reform. It’s a really bad idea for myriad reasons that any non-political hack can plainly see.

I realize that disagreeing with an administration headed by a guy who happens to be black will no doubt earn me the “racist” tag you and your zombies are so fond of dishing out, but that’s a topic for another day. Just know that I know how this will play out, and I couldn’t care less. What I do care about is an obese government asking me to give up more of the pie I and those I hire earn and make. Please go.

This summer might very well go down as the “summer of perspective, thanks to death” for me. My grandpa’s death seems to take on a new dimension every day for me. I thought I had the grieving thing under control, that I was processing it healthily, and yet my counselor’s pre-death prediction rings truer each day: That men typically grieve via anger/irritability.

In other words, I’m pissed off a lot lately, or just irritable. But being an eternal optimist, I’ve tried to use it, tried to harness the perspective.

Someone recently told me that when you experience a ‘big death’ of a close loved one, the perspective gained afterward is something that usually aides in bringing about life-changing decisions. For me, I see new relationships formed, new friendships forming that I simply cherish. There are a handful of people that I’ve gotten to know in the last year or so that I value so very much. These folks are Today People – believe in doing shit today, not tomorrow, and WOW has it dovetailed nicely with where I’m at.

For instance, tonight after house church we were talking around the kitchen table, and I said I really hoped tomorrow worked out so that I could finally get some serious alone time (which I sorely need).
My friend asked, “What could possibly get in the way?”
I responded, “My yard project.”
“Your yard will be there Monday, Tuesday, or so on… If alone time is a priority, make it happen tomorrow.”

Point taken. Point received like a tall glass of lemonade when I’m really thirsty from yard work.

The past several blogs have been born from this new perspective thanks to experiencing death and gaining a very clear perspective.

Aside from grandpa there are a few other passings.

A few weeks ago my wife’s uncle passed, and at the funeral my future sister in-law treated my son like a second class citizen. Matter of fact, the only person I know for certain who has mistreated my 22 month old son is his future aunt. My response: Forgive her, have a blunt and peace-seeking conversation with my wife’s brother. But to make sure that I don’t fume over the event and truly move on, I had to remove her and him as facebook friends. Had to lop it off.

In the coming days or weeks I have an uncle who will pass. As I write he literally on his death bed. It’s rocked the world of my aunt, and it’s been an unexpected turn of events. Once again the death perspective renews its strength and focus.

I also have found that it’s easier to peacefully disengage with friends of my past who I’ve been trying to hang on to. Why exert that much energy on a relationship that leaves me feeling belittled after each interaction? Today I went through my AIM, Facebook and cell phone lists and lopped off 20 or so people whom I should have stopped chasing a long time ago. I pray for peace in their lives, but I don’t need to be hindered by the ignorance and indifference of former friends who aren’t very friendly anymore. Time to move on.

In the month or so since we buried my grandpa I’ve kicked all kinds of ass on my big To Do List. Today I hired a sweet old man from craigslist to come over with his hoss of a tiller to till up a section of my backyard. I spent the afternoon literally on my hands and knees in fresh dirt, prepping the freshly tilled earth for new grass seed. We will seed tomorrow, and in a few weeks we will have reclaimed 1/4 of our total back yard for the kiddies to play in.

Redoing my office was a big job that was inspired by grandpa’s death: Just get it done – all that shit that has been in the “some day I should….” part of my brain. By winter I will have new carpet. Don’t know how I will afford it, but it will happen.

I have 6 songs I am working on finishing, one is a song that was inspired a few years ago by my grandparents. It’s a bluegrass song called “When God Called The Saints Back To Heaven.” Again, a fire has been lit under my ass to just get it done.

Aside from the project/people-oriented stuff, I’m just soaking in all kinds of wonder and little things every day lately. I tell my 22 month old son “I love you” every day at least a dozen times. I’m doing a ton of yard work lately. I’m running again. When I’m out and about, I’m literally prowling for ways to help or be kind to strangers. I give myself more grace. I take advantage of being self-employed and go for mid-day walks. I am shedding the Impostor Dan more and more when talking with people by way of being honest about who I am and what my intentions are. Life!

Point is, I have to give thanks to God for this season of death because it’s caused me to rethink a ton of stuff, and act on it.

I’d like to talk about urban narcissism because I seem to be encountering it with increased frequency.

My first blatant run-in with urban narcissism came a few years ago when I was out to eat with my old band buddies and our wives. I had just moved to Cincinnati, and was talking about my new little city. Giggling, the wife of one of the guys asked, “Do they have stop lights in Cincinnati?” It was contextually funny, and I laughed along. But then it continued with comments that became more snarky as the conversation unfolded. I finally asked if she or her husband had ever been to Cincy? No. Had they ever lived outside the Chicago or Chicagoland areas? No. Ever been south of I-80 in our home state of Illinois? A few times, passing through. I switched topics.

I’ve noticed this trend: when I mention my home town or Cincinnati, or any place outside of an urban center, the response from those who do live in an urban center is quite condescending.

Unfortunately it is especially strong in the Church. While reading Shane Claiborne’s books – Revolution… and Jesus for Prez – I took note (and even wrote on this blog about) how urban-centric his assumptions and applications were. There was a tone of condescension toward suburbia, small town, or rural America in his writings and talks.

Similarly, having worked with several “mega churches” and large ministries, I saw urban narcissism deeply rooted within those organizations. There is a pretension from every leader and worker I’ve interacted with – some of which are friends – based on how big their work is. At a recent multi-site planning meeting for one of Cincy’s biggest mega-churches, we first talked about Paul’s writing of the body of Christ (the Church) has unique parts, like the body. And how even the smallest part is as important, or in some cases more important, than the larger parts. When we introduced ourselves after that discussion I mentioned I was part of a house church network. My jaw hit the ground when two leaders present asked me how big our group was, and when I said “3 families in our particular HC,” the leaders clearly dismissed us with their body language and tone in response. I wish I could say it was unbelievable, but it is very believable.

In the past 4 months I’ve made facebook connections with two new-to-me families who live in urban areas, and have invited them each to my home for a meal and hang out. I’ve asked each family 3 times, and now I’m letting the ball rest in their court. You’d think I’m asking them to drive 8 hours to camp in primitive settings. No takers, and I believe it has to do with the distaste for leaving the urban center.

So what’s the point?

For me, this is mostly venting. I see urban narcissism in some friends whom I used to have a lot of respect for, but having seen and heard the condescension in their correspondence with me, I guess I’m just really disappointed that these people are that shallow-minded. Three pals (a girl and 2 guys) I’ve known for years now call Cincinnati “the country” (rural) with such a dis-tasteful tone that I have purposely drawn down the frequency of my talking to or messaging them. Who needs to be belittled just because I live in a small city? I don’t.

I have nothing against urban living. That’s the irony. My dear friends who live in small cities, rural towns, and suburbia don’t have a beef with urban living. To each their own preference. There is an open-mindedness, and enjoyment for what their friends enjoy. Precisely the opposite for my city-dwelling friends:  To them the city and urban centers are in fact the center of all civilization, and those who live outside are well below them.

As I mentioned above, this is mostly a venting post. I guess it’s true that in deep grief it causes a person to see things much clearer, and I am ready to cut some relationships loose based on the thick urban narcissism that is impacting our friendship.

I can’t help but snicker at how during the W administration it was an act of innocent free speech for all kinds of Americans to call W a Nazi or Hitler. Yet when Obama rolls out a series of policies that are historically in line with those of the National Socialist Party – you know, what the Nazi Party started out as – and historically knowledgeable citizens call him and his minions on it, these people are somehow un-American.

This is why I do not put my faith in a country, a political power, an office, or a flag. I have no allegiance to these things. A soldier, a country, a political agenda, a social program cannot offer Living Water. Only Jesus can – he said it himself: He’s the only way to God. By saying that he not only called out all other religions, but all other paths to false fulfillment. Someone who says that kind of thing is worth engaging to see what he is talking about.

It’s been a great week for music! Finally downloaded my first August Burns Red album, their latest. And then a good friend directed me to Cloudkicker. As a lifelong metal fan, both finds are welcome additions to my eclectic collection.

A friend posted a verse about “whitewashed tombs,” and it gave me pause for reflection on how that is precisely what I want to avoid becoming. It’s so freaking easy, too.

Sometimes there are simple meetings with people that change your life, and I had one yesterday. I met with a client that I’m doing a web site for, and he worked with me on a few things for his site. He thought I was doing him all sorts of benefits for the various improvements to his site, but he was actually the one helping me. I’ve had an idea brewing for a new company for a while, and this meeting put it all together in my head for me. Now I have to figure out if this new concept will really be a new company or a side-service for my existing company. I’m thinking the former because I really think business owners and managers like to work with specialists. More – much more – on this later.

My mind is so scattered lately – lots of things flying around in this brain of mine. Wish I had a small cottage in the countryside of northern IL where I could go retreat for a few days alone, and have my fam join me later in the week. I long for an even simpler life than the one I have, which is really simple.

Finally – last evening my wife, son and I visited the wake of my wife’s great-uncle whom was somewhat of a childhood grandfather figure to her. Since my grandpa was also that figure to her, it’s tough for her to have lost both in a month. But while we were there we had the obligatory stop and chat with her brother and his fiance. Right now my wife and those two people are not on good terms. Family drama. But it doesn’t involve me or my son. I had Garrett wave “Hi” to the fiance, and upon seeing it she turned her head to look away, scowling. When she later rose to walk away I told Garrett, “Say hi to your future Aunt _____,” and again she strained her head to look away, with the now familiar scowl.

Today it is taking a lot of self-control to not call my wife’s brother and ask what that was all about – how Garrett, a 21 month old toddler, has anything to do with their drama. I don’t get it. What really sucks is that my family live 6 hours away, and I have a brother who actually wants to be part of his nephew’s life, unlike the 30 year old self-absorbed child living near by. I have extended family up there, too, that want to be in the picture. Not so here. If we didn’t have such strong connections with our house church family, I’d be bringing the pressure to move to IL.

But that last part is the cool thing – we DO have strong home church family here, and I am “filthy rich” in meaningful relationships right now. Praise God.

This journey through grief is turning out to reveal a few methods of finding therapy in places I wouldn’t have otherwise prepared for.

Over the last week or so I’ve seen my counselor and talked about the raw shock of losing grandpa so quickly. It was nice to have that resource already in place. But then I also immediately went to work on two projects at home.

The first was to redo my office space. Phase one: Painting. I spent a lot of time at stores finding the shades I wanted, took home a few $4 samples, went through multiple palettes until I found just the right colors. It turned out to be a three-color scheme for this smallish cape cod bedroom I occupy for an office. Painting is therapy, it turns out, because to do it right there are a lot of steps. Prep work, alone, is busy work – taping off the areas, cleaning baseboards, and getting 2 coats on because I only paint using flat finish (walls were never supposed to be shiny).

So that took up the better part of a week with several days in between to do actual work for my biz.

I also began getting a few things in place for the back yard revamp. For the last year we have gone through several plans on what to do, each one out of reach due to expense. And yet we host friends and Home Church enough that our back yard should get more use than it currently does. So I began to do a few things with resources we already had, and then discovered a store called Home Emporium, which is like Big Lots for big box home improvement stores. There I found the retaining wall materials that we’ll get working on next weekend.

Saturday I spent a considerable amount of time simply trimming, mowing, blowing, hauling, shoveling, and organizing. I was toast by day’s end, and it felt REALLY good.

Labor is therapy for me.

Unfortunately as I sit here now I feel a summer cold coming on. I loathe colds, and how they really shut me down for around 2 weeks. There’s usually some good to be found in them, though. I am the eternal optimist.

All this to say that while I grieve and have bouts of deep depression, I am also finding a great deal of happy surprises in the work and chores where helpful therapy is found.

I feel like I have a “functional Dan” operating all this week. He says words, he works, he maintains relationships, and today upgraded to reinstalling the Exercise Program back into the hard drive. Yet inside I am in a haze.

To say that I miss my grandpa would not quite cover this emotion. It’s new to me – I don’t know the word or words to describe.

A few thoughts…

Had a brief but interesting conversation with a friend about Evolution and Creationism. I am one of those whackjob Creationists. I believe God created the universe and Earth in 6 literal days. Not “1 million days = 1 day to God” but 1 literal day. I stopped debating this with not-yet-Jesus followers a while back because I can understand how trivial this seems in light of what I should be caring about.

But I’ve kept on talking with other Jesus followers because I like a good debate.

Anyway, my friend believes in the “1 million days = 1 day to God” thing, so I asked him if it took 6 million years (or “days” in God Time according to him), did God then rest for 1 million years on the seventh God Day?

Silence.

The way I see it, if you’re going to believe in something just believe and don’t get all nuance and fine-line about it. This is the shit that makes me sigh.

Good transition.

I was talking to another friend about swearing. I cuss. A lot. Too much, I think, at times. Not because I think the words are bad – I don’t – but because it belittles my lexicon. I was thinking about this lately because when I saw my grandpa he’d sometimes call me a “shit head” or some other swear-laden nickname. On the other hand, at the wake and funeral last week I was told things like “it’s good to see you” by a few people whom I know were thinking the exact opposite, as proved by their actions later. So which is worse in God’s ear: A nickname with “shit” in it which is love language, or the sharp tongue of someone who has an ill will toward you?

Give me truth in whatever words. The packaging doesn’t matter, which is sort of ironic for me to say and believe that.

Barak Obama and this current Congress are really making me sad. I gave up on America when this nation voted a guy because of how “historic” his race made his election. And now we get what we get – a leader who is blatantly ignoring myriad lessons history should teach a leader of his esteem. Yet the beat goes on.

If he and congress get their way the private insurance my family buys for ourselves will be driven out of the market. We buy an HSA as a private policy. Both HSAs and private policies will be made illegal for new sale if Obamacare gets passed. With no more demand, my rates will go up, causing me to look elsewhere for my family’s healthcare.

Take a look at the CARS program. This is why govt. should be small on all levels. This is why I am drawn to Anarchy.

Other than a few angry veins I am otherwise really ok with life as a whole. I miss my grandpa. Business is going really well – small businesses are thriving right now in a lot of cases. We’re getting ready to do a lot of painting inside – can’t wait! Life is good. Really good.

He was always a joker, story teller, lover of family and friends, and hard worker.

Last week as friends and family came to be with my grandpa, each began their visit by trying to joke with him. Didn’t matter if it was me – I told him about the latest thing I said to my wife that assured a response of “Danny Lee, she’s going to KILL you when she gets off those crutches!” and then he’d laugh with me.

He always found something to laugh about. He just ate up life and the people around him got to be part of the feast.

Then there were the stories. Oh how I wish I had recorded some of them. I could walk in the front door, sit down, and immediately he’d tell me a story – something that happened 50 years ago or last week. Didn’t matter. There was a story to be told.

A few years ago I heard a story on NPR about how people with friends around seem to actually live longer than solitary people. My grandpa gave us a lot of scares over the years with various heart attacks, heart surgeries, etc. It took the most aggressive form of cancer to kill him. Had he another form of cancer I know he’d be here still today because of the love and strength he found in his friends and family.

There’s just so much to say. I can hardly put my 33 years of life into a blog as it pertains to how my grandpa is part of who I am.

I miss him already. Last night was a lazy night, the kind of evening that I would normally either get a call from him or I’d pick up the phone to call and see what’s up. Our weekly calls usually lasted 30 to 60 minutes. We’d just chew the fat, talk about life, family, the weather, and whatever else came up.

This is going to take a while to get used to.