This I Believe

NPR has been running a new set of essays on a very old radio theme. There used to be a radio program, I believe, called "This I Believe." This program asked prominent Americans to deliver an essay on what they believed. NPR has revived it and invited submissions from ordinary people as well as the prominent.

Not surprisingly, hearing about the program and hearing some of the essays has gotten me thinking about what I believe. Frankly, I don't know if I will submit anything to their program; however, I have been thinking about what it is I believe or believe in.

On first consideration, I was surprised at how difficult it is to describe what I believe without being trite and without speaking instead to what I don't believe. To say that I believe in God, for example, is trite, in my opinion.

What does it mean to believe in God, particularly when I note that I do not believe in the "Christian" God or the "Hebrew" God or the "Muslim" God? And to go into what all that means to me means devoting most of an essay to discussing why I don't believe in those versions of God. (It's not that they are wrong in my view--though I am adamant that I do not believe God as I understand her/him needs or even wants animal or human sacrifices--it's more that I see God as so much bigger than what religion presents to us.) My understanding of God is vast, much vaster than I can either comprehend or convey. Besides, a discussion of this belief involves also a detailed discussion of how my belief informs my life and guides my actions. It becomes an unwieldy as well as a daunting task.

So I muddled on in my thinking, but the topic itself--This I Believe--keeps coming back to me, demanding of me that I answer the question as it represents me in my life. You see, one of the things I believe is that our beliefs are manifested, to ourselves and to others, in our behavior. For example, if I say I am brave, but I act cowardly all the time, then I submit that I believe in cowardice, even as I might want to believe in bravery. I can only say that I believe in bravery if I act bravely. I don't have to do it all the time, but it does have to be something I and others can count on about me.

What I've come to realize is that I believe in persistence. According to the American Heritage Dictionary online, persistence is: "(1) The act of persisting. (2) The state or quality of being persistent; persistency. (3) Continuance of an effect after the cause is removed: persistence of vision." So, I looked up persist, and the dictionary said: "(1) To be obstinately repetitious, insistent, or tenacious. (2) To hold firmly and steadfastly to a purpose, state, or undertaking despite obstacles, warnings, or setbacks. (3) To continue in existence; last."

I think persistent describes me. I keep on keeping on as long as there is any faint hope of attaining a goal or finishing a task set before me. As a young boy, I carried newspapers for five and a half years. I never made more than $5.00 a week at it in the early to mid-Sixties, but that wasn't bad walking around money back then, either.

I wasn't the best student in college. I funked out three times. But through persistence I managed to get to Bachelor of Arts and one Master of Arts degrees between 1967 and 1988. Once I figured out that I had to go to class, and I had to do the homework, I got pretty good grades, too. It was a persistence to keep coming back to the thing I wanted to do until I could figure out how to do it, though that got me through college. It wasn't that I couldn't do the work or understand the material of college that kept me back, it was a lack of persisting. Still, I persisted in coming back until I figured out how to get through, and when I did, I graduated.

There are a lot of talented golfers in this country, but only a comparative handful who make a living at golf. There are an awful lot of good professional golfers who never go out on the PGA Tour or who go out but don't stay out. Perhaps being a touring pro, which is not the easiest of lives to lead, is not what they want in life. There is nothing wrong with that, and these men and women should be honored for what they do.

What I see that separates a lot of the really good golfers is the ability to persist. Granted, a Tiger Woods has a lot of talent that even the average really good pro doesn't have--and he certainly has talents I do not possess. Still that talent would mean nothing if he didn't persist: in showing up, in doing the work, in risking failure (even Tiger doesn't win more golf tournaments than he loses). Talent is important. If you don't have the talent, you can't succeed to the highest level of anything. But all the talent in the world cannot necessarily overcome persistence.

Most of us do not realize how long the American Revolution lasted. Independence, which we celebrate every year on July 4th, was declared on that day, but it wasn't won on the battlefield until the battle of Yorktown ended on October 19, 1781, and a peace treaty with Great Britain wasn't signed until a few years later. Washington was up against the greatest military power in the world at that time, and he lost more battles than he won by far. Yet he won the war because of his skill, talent, and persistence.

Likewise, in my own generation, America, arguably the greatest military power in the world, lost the war in Vietnam as much because we lacked the persistence of our adversaries as for any other reason. Our strategy was founded on the assumption that eventually the other side would give up. Many sources say that we never lost to the Viet Cong or North Vietnamese Army in the field; that is, we never lost a battle, but we lost the war. Books have been written about why we lost Vietnam, and in truth the reasons are myriad. Still, we did not match our opponent's persistence, just as the British did not match the persistence of their erstwhile colonists.

We are now engaged in a war against terrorism, which again pits the strongest military power in the history of humankind against militarily puny revolutionary zealots. What it will take to win that war is, I believe, persistence.

I know it's a cliche to say that persistence is getting up one more time than you are knocked down. Cliches are built on truth, I believe. And there is no greater truth in my life or in human history than the importance of persistence.

The End is Near

Yes, yes I know I haven't posted in so long that only the terminally bored even check in here anymore. Sorry about that, and I have every intention of doing better at posting here.

"The End is Near" refers to the fact that my father has left our family home for the last time. He'll probably be dead before my birthday, August 31. He's 76, and his cancer has metastasized into his brain. Few people survive metastasized brain cancer, and he doesn't look to be one of them.

The biggest issue for Dad is that he doesn't want to live anymore. Mom died a little over four years ago, and since then he has buried a son and a daughter. The final straw was losing his long-time AA sponsor a little over a year ago. That all has weighed on him. With each death his depression got worse, yet he wouldn't do any grief counseling or seek any professional help. Dad's always been deeply suspicious of medical professionals, and he's always thought psychiatry/psychology were nonsense.

So, as far as I know, AA was the only counseling he had, and I don't know how well they do grief work. Their focus is elsewhere. But it was the organization, or group of people, he trusted with whatever guidance he felt he needed.

Not that I believe any of that would have made much difference. Dad was a long-time cigarette smoker: 61 years until his lung cancer was diagnosed when he quit cold. That said, I believe we live as long as we live, and then we die. I've known people who lived much healthier lifestyles than Dad who died younger from cancer. There are no guarantees.

As for myself, I'll be happy for him when it's over. His mind is going. He can't walk unassisted or very far. He gets easily confused. He can't enjoy most of the pleasures he's had in life (not counting booze or tobacco): he can't watch television; it's too chaotic for him, and he can't do his beloved crossword puzzles.

Now he sits and stares. Sometimes he can be engaged in conversation, but increasingly he has no interest in it. He wants to sleep. He's ready to die, and the only thing he seems to fear is that it may be painful or embarrassing. (I've already had to wipe his ass. What can be more embarrassing?)

My sister and brother who live in town are seeing to his needs. He's about to become a hospice patient, which is what he wants and deserves: a death with as much dignity as we can muster. I visit when I can or when he or they need me there. God willing, I will be there at the end to say a final goodbye to the man who gave me life.

I suspect that Dad's death is gonna be my topic for awhile.