• Where is the love?

    Just as I was finishing up my entry last week, I heard the comments offered by my governor at his inaugural address. My favorite part talked about the government buildings standing behind him, and his hope that one day they would stand empty – no longer needed. He went on to speak about what he referred to as the fallacy of throwing more money at a problem, that if just one more piece of paperwork got done then our problems would be solved. Now here’s a surprise, in some ways I thought it was a good speech. That might sound funny, coming from a state employee, but I thought it was well said. Many government offices are there to deal with problems that we all would rather not have. Seeing them stand empty would seem to suggest that there was no need for them, and therefore no societal problems. But after I thought about the speech for a while, I kind of felt like he was saying everyone would be better off without me and my coworkers. Judging by his past performance on the job, it was hard not to see this speech as the thoughts of a man who has a genuine dislike of government employees. We live in this, the real world. There are real problems in this real world. I consider myself a realist: we won’t solve one hundred percent of these problems regardless of the amount of money we throw at them. But does that mean that we shouldn’t even try? One way or another, trying usually costs resources, and these resources usually have some monetary value associated with them. The governor is my boss, the leader of our state’s government. Just what kind of leader tells those under him that the world would be better off without the organization he or she leads. What are we supposed to take from that? Are we supposed to be inspired?

    I feel like going right out and giving it my al-most, my fifty percent, the old college (drop-out) try.

  • Where?

    Beth went up for the children’s sermon in church on Sunday and gave the whole congregation a heaping helping of BETH. The church member giving the children’s sermon asked a young boy to volunteer to be John. She (the ranking adult) told him that he was going to be “the light.” Then she asked another group of kids to walk up next to the altar and imagine that they were in a dark bedroom. She asked them how they felt in the dark. “Scared”, one of them replied. This was the expected answer. Then she asked them, “where can we find some light?” One of them pointed at “John.” This was the expected answer. “John” then produced a make-believe, paper lantern which was placed in “the bedroom”. “How do you feel now?”, the ranking adult asked. “Better”, they replied. Again, this was the expected answer. This happened twice more, with very similar, expected replies. Then it was Beth’s turn. The adult brought Beth’s group up next to the altar and told them to imagine they were in dark closet. “Where do you think we can find some light?” the adult asked. Beth pointed to the candle on the altar and announced, somewhat incredulously, “it’s right there!” This was not the expected answer.

    After the adult was finished with her sermon, as is customary, she asked all of the kids to come forward for their candy (presumably a reward for comming up and sitting quietly). Beth took notice that everyone had been called up by name except her friend Cory. Alarmed, Beth asked the adult if she knew Cory’s name. Caught red handed, the adult was forced to fess up. “No”, she replied. Once again feeling somewhat indignant, Beth loudly advised her that this was Cory, that his mommy was here too, and his mommy’s name was Miss Susanne. We were all glad that Beth was there to clear this up. Everyone in church had a good laugh, even the poor adult giving the children’s sermon.

    That’s all for now. Thanks for stopping by.

  • No my friend.

    Beth and Cory could not decide which house they wanted to play at this weekend. Cory said, “can I play at your house Beth?” Beth replied, “can I play at your house Cory?” This went back and forth about as you would expect for a conversation between a five year old and a four year old. Finally, an exasperated Beth took Cory by the shoulder, lovingly shook him and said, “Cory, your house is bigger!” How can you argue with that.