QUOTE

Remember, you are just an extra in everyone else’s play.  –Stewart Emery

WHAT I LEARNED THIS MONTH

There are only 3 ways you can improve the quality of your life.

(1)   Find out what is working and do more of it.

(2)   Find out what is not working and stop it.

(3)   Try out new things and see which ones work and which ones don’t.  Incorporate the ones that do into your behavior.

WHAT I HAVE CONCLUDED

    I am spending too much time on the computer.  I plan on severely curtailing all time on email and internet, so that means that I will take a break from Xanga.  I’ve enjoyed my time on Xanga and hope to return someday.

      As I set complete my Toastmasters commitments and set aside my homeschooling responsibilities for the summer, I am excited to focus on three major things (1) research and writing of my book (marriage and family topic) (2) homemaking and family (3) fitness and health -  and three minor things (1) more socializing with friends this summer (2) a few short vacations (3) renewed interest / energy for next homeschooling year.  Until we meet again ~~~~~ have a great summer – read, soak up the sun (don’t forget your SPF 15+) and do something new and different.

   The theme of this month’s Xanga entry is genocide.  I know it’s a dark topic, but one that grabbed hold of me for the past month.  I did not know that the movie HOTEL RWANDA would have such an impact on me.
     On April 30 in Washington, DC, there was a rally about stopping the genocide in Dafur (near Sudan).  A woman was being interviewed on a radio station and said that about 500 people are being killed everyday and that President Bush said he would join forces with the United Nations to try to stop the genocide.  The woman alleged that actions have not matched the promises.  She speculates that the genocide is "geopolitical" and since the pro-genocide Sudanese government has played a major role in helping us fight the war on terror by providing information about terrorists, the President is hesitant about fighting against this same government that wants to continue the genocide.  My question for you is, what is the solution?

WORDS

 GENOCIDE – the systematic, planned annihilation of a racial, political or social group.  (I was angry when the media started using the term “ethnic cleansing” in the 1990’s.  Is it easier to say ethnic cleansing than genocide?  Does preferred terminology soften in our minds the horrific crime against human beings?

 APARTHEID – an official policy of racial segregation promulgated in the Republic of South Africa with a view to promoting and maintaining white ascendancy.  The term apartheid (from the Afrikaans word for "apartness") was coined in the 1930s and used as a political slogan of the National Party in the early 1940s, but the policy itself extends back to the beginning of white settlement in South Africa in 1652.  Apartheid ended in 1994 with the election of South Africa’s first black President, Nelson Mandela.

 PROMULGATE – 1.  to make known (a decree, law or doctrine) by public declaration; announce officially.  2.  to put (a law) into effect by formal public announcement.

 QUOTES

 “We – even we here – hold the power, and bear the responsibility.”  Abraham Lincoln

 “Never let anything get in the way of your writing.”  (I can’t remember who said that.)

 BOOKS

      AN ORDINARY MAN:  AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY by Paul Rusesabagina (who inspired the film Hotel Rwanda).  This book was released on April 6, 2006, exactly 12 years after the beginning of 100 days of genocide in Rwanda, which left over 800,000 people dead.  Here is a review I wrote for Amazon.com:

 STORY

 Paul Rusesabagina – one of the greatest men I’ve ever met

      Strolling out of the library at the end of March, I grabbed a calendar of events the library publishes each month.  On the front page was an announcement that Paul Rusesabagina was going to be speaking at a college just 10-15 minutes from my home.  I told Flubberaited about it and decided that I would watch Hotel Rwanda to prepare for this lecture.  I had shied away from the movie for the past year, thinking the subject matter would be too difficult for me to handle.

     The movie was very well done, historically accurate and one of the most moving stories I’ve ever seen. I was immediately pulled into the story and once again, revisited the idea of genocide that has popped into my mind during the course of my lifetime:  how it can happen, why no one can stop it, what, if anything we can do to try to stop the madness, what can / should be done in the future?

   Hotel Rwanda now ranks among one of my favorites.  It incited such emotion in me that it is hard to explain.  I watched the documentaries and discussions at the end of the DVD and knew for sure that I HAD to meet this great man.

    We arrived at the lecture hall on April 10 and there were about 1000 people seated in the auditorium – college students and citizens of all ages in our community.  When Paul was introduced, everyone immediately got on their feet and gave him a standing ovation.  Tears welled up in my eyes and I had to keep them from traveling down my cheeks. 

     Paul is truly a great man and I believe he is a living saint, who was an instrument that God clearly used. There were at least six, if not a dozen times during the Rwanda genocide in 1994 that he could have easily been killed, but was spared another chance to live.   If only the rest of the world would learn about this man, study his character and techniques for dealing with people, and do something about genocide – to end it, to curtail it - something.

     Paul opened his talk by saying that when we think of Sept. 11 (2001) we all remember what we were doing on that day and where we were.  He says that what Sept. 11 is to Americans, April 6 (1994) is to Rwandans.  He spoke for almost an hour to a crowd that was mesmerized by this great man.

MOVIE

       Some of you know I am conducting research on dating.  I’m coming across some excellent resources.  I have a movie I will be showing my kids and recommending to others.  It is called 7 BIBLE TRUTHS VIOLATED BY CHRISTIAN DATING by Dr. S.M. Davis, Pastor of a Baptist Church in Illinois. It’s one hour and 15 minutes long and he shares his opinions and arguments that are so compelling, that you are bound to rethink the issue of dating and how our culture approaches dating, relationships and marriage.  I’ve watched 5 out of 9 of his tapes related to dating and preparing for marriage and this one will probably hold a teen’s attention span the best.  Some of his other tapes can be long-winded and detailed (good for someone immersed in the topic like I am, but somewhat monotonous for the general public).  S.M. Davis has held his countercultural views and has been preaching about dating since 1979 and has revised them even further after his observations over the years.

GOAL

 (1)   Finish the school year on May 24.

(2)   Take a few short vacations this month.

(3)   Carefully consider whether I should focus all of my efforts on one main project or try to work on 2 main projects during the next 3 months.  I want to do both, but I want to complete both with high standards.  If I work on both of them at once, I may not end up with high quality and may end up wasting time by dividing my mental efforts.

WHAT I LEARNED THIS MONTH

     On April 28, my husband and I were invited to my brother-in-law’s (Brad) promotion party.  I was very anxious to spend two hours on a sailboat with some of his relatives and then hang out at a bar / restaurant for three hours afterward.  I was anxious because I just don’t seem to have much in common with his family and small talk only gets me as far as 10-15 minutes for the most part.  Some of his family members do not like me, have been nasty in the past or just plain phony.  I could be exaggerating a little when I say that, but that’s what I feel and believe.  However, I think the differences involve values, interests and the ways in which we live our lives.  That probably creates discomfort, both ways.  I'm sure we would admit that none of us would choose each other as friends!

     The weather was beautiful and the scenery was terrific.  We were on the Chesapeake Bay for two hours and there were enough people to mingle with.  I can’t say that we got “caught up with” relatives we hadn’t seen in a while.  Somehow getting caught up with isn’t part of the family dynamics.  Conversation focuses on the here and now - the stimulus in the immediate environment or present moment.  I enjoyed talking with everyone and met some people who have made a big impact on Brad.  In fact, in situations like these, you sometimes meet others who have interesting experiences to share or you can find something in common, which I did.

   This was the first time in a long time that when interacting with my husband’s siblings I did not say “the wrong thing!”  I sat back, observed and conversed when it seemed appropriate.  I wasn’t necessarily more cautious, but just more casual.

      What I learned was that being flexible means not only making a conscious decision to have a good attitude (within), but looking outside yourself.  Look outside yourself, be patient and see if you can take in new information, ways of doing things or ways of being.  Don’t cling to some preconceived notion.  Look for the good points that others have to offer so that you can gain something from them.

JOKE

     HOW HAS THE POWER OF CHRIST’S RESURRECTION TRANSFORMED YOUR LIFE DURING THIS PAST YEAR?  Please let me know by posting your answer in the comment section at the end of this post.  I will explain mine in a minute.

      Happy Easter!  I hope your Lent or period leading up to Easter provided you with some spiritual reflection and I hope that your coming week will also be fruitful spiritually.  Next Sunday is Divine Mercy Sunday and we can especially pray for the conversion of others.  I pray that our world political leaders will gain some enlightenment on the grave dangers they are heading toward with the possible military action they are considering against Iran.  Members of this administration are such “hawks” to the extent that I would be opposed to recommending that my children enter military service!  If I had more time in life, I would speak out and write against all of this war nonsense! And, as most of you know, I am a former Army Officer – someone who was once proudly patriotic.  The 1980’s was a different era.

     I always seem to fail during Lent, the 6-week period preceding Easter.  I either set high goals, get lazy or give up.  I completely failed in my spiritual goals once again - until last week.

  I guess I get too busy with life’s demands and cast my spiritual goals aside, telling myself that I will get back to them and that tomorrow is another day.  I must place spirituality as a high priority and not something that gets my leftover time. 

   A few things have had a major impact on my life recently.  It all started with the calendar of events I grabbed at the public library at the end of March.  Paul Rusesabagina, the man who inspired the true story of the movie “Hotel Rwanda” was scheduled to speak at a local college on April 10^th.  I brought the calendar home and showed Flubberaited, who raved about the movie and story after seeing it last year.

  I had shied away from the movie, thinking it was too difficult to handle.  Well, after I saw the movie 2 weeks ago, I watched most of the additional scene and commentary at the end of the DVD and quickly got myself to the library and signed out a few books on genocide.

    I started reading about genocide in books and on the internet and did a lot of thinking about it.  I found myself staying up late at night, in bed, feeling sad and powerless to think about what happened in Rwanda in 1994 and what is going on right now in the Congo and Sudan, among other places in the world. I pictured how life must have been and how it is when you are running in fear of losing your life to a slow, gory death simply because you are from the “wrong” gene-pool.  Right now, as you read this, there are people in the world running from maniacs who are hunting them down with machetes and guns.

     I will have a lot more to say about the whole topic of genocide in my next post on May 1, but for now, I just want to say that my life has been transformed because I think I found yet another issue to be deeply concerned about and maybe some day find a way to play a small part in this issue or other issues important to mankind.  My soul has been awakened with a new interest in history and a deep compassion for others.

   Jesus’ whole life and sacrifice he made for us is far beyond anything I will ever go through.  I can never love enough to go to that extent; I will never suffer that much.  Basically, I have an easy, cushy life and really have nothing to complain about.

  And to imagine the horror of the killings in Rwanda just 12 years ago – 800,000 innocent people in about 100 days time -  is mind-boggling. 

   This Easter, I am thinking that there’s so much more I can do and it starts with being more prayerful and then actually doing something beyond focusing on my own life.  Sure, I give and volunteer for various functions, but there are more sacrificial things I can do in life.

   I must end now and make the final preparations for the Easter dinner:  ham, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, salad (or corn – haven’t decided), bread from the bread machine, homemade cheesecake for dessert.

      HOW HAS THE POWER OF CHRIST’S RESURRECTION TRANSFORMED YOUR LIFE THIS PAST YEAR?

THE CAR ACCIDENT

      It was the first day of summer vacation, June 22, 1976.  I had just completed eighth grade and my sister Stacie finished sixth grade.  Like most active, young people, we were excited about the summer that lie ahead of us:  longer days, more time to spend outside bike-riding and playing with friends, leisurely days swimming at the town pool and several day trips to Westbrook (Westbrook is synonymous with the beachfront cottage that was in the family from 1914-2004.  The cottage is on 224 Salt Island Rd. in Westbrook, CT.  It is located about 30 miles south from the town I lived in at the time).

      After dinner, my parents had to take my younger brother to his baseball game and my mother told us to stay home since we had a long enough day of swimming.  It was the first day of summer and we had had enough activity for the day.  But, you know kids.  They never get tired.

      No sooner did they leave, Stacie and I decided to ride our bikes to the Rossittos, friends who lived a mile away on Old Main St.  I had recently purchased a nice blue Raleigh Schwinn 10-speed bike with my hard earned money.  I think the cost was $114 or $124.  Stacie had a basic green bike that had seen better days and was hoping to get a nice new bike like mine.  When we arrived at the Rossittos, we parked our bikes and played outside in the front yard.  They lived on a “frontage” road, meaning, the street kind of split and had an upper level where the houses were, making for a quieter, private road, even if it was set back just 25 feet from the main road. 

      When my back was turned while playing frisbee in the Rossittos yard, Stacie secretly took off on my bike.  Her laughter caught my attention and I tried to sprint to catch her, yelling, “Get back here!  Come back with my bike!”  I was so mad, but shrugged my shoulders, gave up and went back to my friends.  I was the kind of person who shared my things when I wanted to – and when asked -  and she knew I was not ready to let her ride my new bike.

      A few minutes later, I heard screeching tires and maybe a crash (I can’t remember) and said or thought, “Cool.  Let’s go see what happened.”  Visualizing a fender bender in the vicinity, my mind didn’t register the comment Jackie Rossitto made from up ahead. “Lynn, it’s Stacie!”  I kept riding at a regular pace as I wondered what she meant.  I came upon the scene, completely unprepared for what I was about to see.

      I couldn’t take it all in, but saw bits and pieces:  a few people surrounding someone on the ground; my bike destroyed, located in 2 places, maybe a tire 10 or 20 feet away, but the severely mangled bike frame 25-50 yards down the hill on a side street (Robbins Lane).  I walked closer to the scene of the accident, and I think it was Louie Rossitto (5^th grader and youngest of the four Rossittos) who urged me to take a closer look.  Part of me wanted to see, but part of my imagination ran wild after seeing the remnants of my bike.  As I approached her, I heard Stacie yelling phrases like, “Is this a dream?” and “Am I dreaming?”  I walked closer and could only look for about two seconds at a horrific site:  I saw a large chunk of her leg (thigh tissue) taken out, and probably hanging on the ground from the wound, which was about 3-6 inches long.  I could see the femur bone, which means that the depth of the injury was about 3 inches.  I saw yellow and white tissue and red flesh.  I think the bone was a grayish color – not white like we would imagine bones to be.

     Again, I only looked for about 2 seconds and I think my brain wanted to forget the site.  The whole scene was surreal and too much to take in.  I’ll never forget the putrid smell of the blood / tissue.  The stench was definitely something beyond the average injury.  I sometimes have vivid nightmares of wartime scenes that have this smell associated with my dreams.  I’ve never experienced this smell in my life again.

      As I stepped back from the scene, I think I cried in Louie’s chest.  I was not an emotional person and I felt uncomfortable shedding tears, but the reaction was out of confusion and fear.  I didn’t think my sister was going to die, but I knew it was pretty serious and that she needed medical attention soon.  I had never really thought I had loved my sister, but instead, considered us more like friends, with a dose of sibling rivalry.  I didn’t expect to feel feelings of love and deep concern for Stacie;  it took me by surprise.

      A resident of a nearby home, an older lady, asked me who I was, where my parents were and wanted to make a call to get in touch with them.  I explained that they were at West Hill Elementary school at my brother’s baseball game. 

     By that time I think the ambulance had arrived.  The lady told me to get in her car and we would go get my parents.  These were the days before cell phones.  It took us about 10-15 minutes to get to the school and when we got there, my parents had already been notified and on the way to the hospital.  I don’t know where my 9-year old brother was – whether he was going to be dropped off after the game or if someone brought him home.

     I hated leaving the scene and I was worrying the whole way.  I think the woman dropped me off at my house afterward.  Maybe I went back to the Rossittos and they brought me home.  Some of the story is vivid, but much of it is a blur.  I think our memories block unpleasant events out for a reason. Do you agree and has that been your experience?

    My Aunt Joanie was going to come to our house and stay the night if needed.  As the sun was setting, there were many neighbors and people who came by the house to hear the story.  I remember telling it over and over again.  I wanted to know more about what was going on at the hospital and to hear an official, “everything is fine.”  The waiting and not knowing was difficult. 

     I felt like Laura in the Elissa-hand episode:  she was there; not necessarily an eye witness, but someone who can share the story with those who were not there, and was  prohibited from going to the hospital.  You are on pins and needles, almost pacing the floor as to what is happening.  People look to you to get the details of the story, but you’ve now taken a back seat to the situation as it enters the next Act.  Your emotions and imagination are running wild.

   The sun was setting and I needed a shower; I probably needed to eat, but was not hungry.  I missed my parents and wished they would get home;  they seldom left us in the evening with others. I wanted to get back to the routine.  Somehow, things were never going to be the same.  I was getting tired of different people asking the same questions.

     My parents might have called twice – once to say that the hospital staff was taking her into the emergency room and later to say that the doctor would have to make three layers of stitches – about 300 or so and that the inner layers required a lot of delicacy because of the tissue.  I’m not sure if they had to take some skin from her behind or what, but the stitches at the deeper layers would of course dissolve by themselves and she needed skin to cover the wound.  I don’t know what skin and tissue were salvaged and what is useless / tainted / infected if it was hanging on the ground.   There was also another injury, a sprained wrist.

   These were the days of no helmets or protective gear.  The accident probably could have been a lot worse.  In Stacie’s laughter, she rode down a ramp / hill from the frontage road onto Old Main St., laughing as she was speeding away from us, probably not stopping or looking both ways for traffic.  The grass and low bushes were tall enough (maybe 3-4 feet high) to create a blind spot for a driver.  Supposedly the driver was a 17 year-old guy named David Canton or Cantone from the next town over.

      I thought he was probably speeding, but was told later that he was going the speed limit, 35 mph.  I don’t know if there was a court case or bad feelings, but I do think there was some insurance money.   In my mind, it was convenient for me to blame the driver – that he was speeding and didn’t care.  The story was not really talked about in our family.  I remember that the long-time joke was that Stacie would show her scar and say she was bit by a shark!  It was convincing.  Most people believed that story.

    I will have to see if I can dig up some pictures of my mangled bike or Stacie on crutches.   I sent an email to my father and sister yesterday with a few more questions about the accident.  I’ll post them if I hear from them.

      When I drive by the scene today (which is rare), I don’t really think of the accident, but I will show my kids the scene and one thing I always notice:  the grass and bushes have always been cut low after the accident, eliminating a blind spot.

   I wish I could come up with an ending, but I’m at a loss.   This story was not easy to write.  It was very difficult to recreate the incident.  When anything major happens in your life, I encourage you to write it down somewhere and put it in a file.