Three Christmas Gifts

By Mildred Goff
The wise men brought three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

This Christmas, try adding three gifts to your list. Yes, I know your Christmas gift list is already overly long, that you have neither time nor money for extra gifts. But these will cost you little in time, and less in money, and they will capture for you the true Christmas spirit so often lost in the rush and flurry of the season.

First gift: to a stranger. This might be a note to the bus company, mentioning that bus driver who is unfailingly pleasant and courteous, even under the most trying conditions. Send a Christmas card to the waitress who is so cheerful and quick to serve you. Write a letter to the author whose book, story, or poem you have enjoyed recently. Drop a note to the department store whose windows entice you, with a word of praise for the work of the window dresser. You can think of many more. Choose at least one.

Second gift: to someone you find it hard to like, or someone you feel does not like you very much. It might be your cross old great-aunt, or a sharp-tongued cousin; perhaps it is a business associate who annoys you, or an irritable neighbor. Send a small, inexpensive, but thoughtful gift to one in this group. It might be no more than a clipping or an article about some hobby for the neighbor; a magazine you know she would enjoy for the cranky relative. Remember, it is easy to give to those we love, but God’s love includes the whole world.

Third gift: to someone in trouble. Think of those enduring a cheerless old age, who would be so grateful for an unexpected caller. There are many in hospitals who have no one to visit them, to read to them, to talk to them. And consider those in prisons; yes, we are told we should visit them, too. An hour spent with one of these lonely and half-forgotten persons will do much for them, and more for you.

This Christmas, give these three gifts. You will be repaid a thousand-fold.

Improvement Era
Dec. 1957;
Christmas Classics p. 95

Just like the rest of my home, my “living room” is dry, comfortable and safe just as is Magee, my favorite dog, who is currently sacked out on the couch next to my chair. She raises her head as my wife passes through. She is curious to know if Pam is headed to the treat cabinet that holds her favorite treat, meat-stuffed rawhide. Her ears perk up as Pam opens the fridge but when the familiar crinkle of plastic that might indicate other potential “treats” isn’t heard, she turns to look out into the yard pretending that she really doesn’t care. But she waits until Pam returns and sits in her own recliner before giving up hope and lays her head back down and with a sigh dozes back off to dream the dreams that dogs dream. Later, Magee will give me even less attention as I rise to take advantage of one of the multiple in-door plumbing facilities scattered through-out my home. Apparently, she is acutely aware that there are no treats stored in those places and her feined interest wanes even faster with me than it did with Pam.

It is in this safe and comfortable place on Memorial Day that the reality of our “insulated lives” strikes me hard. For several weeks while preparing for a Memorial Day Special radio show, I have been thinking along the lines of how insulated everyone is from the harsh and cold realities of the world.  It is not for me to wonder about the fairness or unfairness of life, because it is simply true that there is no inherent fairness in life and to wonder about it would serve no purpose. It is not pessimism that makes me say that, but rather realism. Our founding fathers acknowledged that “all men are created equal” and left it at that, because they knew that after a person is created, his or her perception of the fairness or unfairness of life is often determined by that individual.

This is not to say that there isn’t some inherent unfairness in life. There are some things individuals simply cannot overcome. A crippling disability, a tragic event, a devastating illness, a sudden death, or an economic catastrophy are all unfair situations that anyone may face. And while some people survive and some even thrive afterward, sadly, some do not.

Part of my preparation for the radio show was the publication of my great-uncle’s story of being a prisoner of war on Bataan and in doing so, I spent a lot of time reading his words. I noted when I originally wrote the story in 1985 that he often said, “I was lucky.” That comment struck me back then when I was 20 years old, but I failed to grasp the significance then. It would take 24 years, surviving a life-threatening illness and the loss of my step-daughter before I could read those words again and understand what he was really saying.

We live our lives insulated from the realities of life. We go to the store and buy our steaks and pork chops and chicken nuggets separated from much of the work that it takes to get the food to our tables. We click a button and bring the world into our homes instantly, and never think about our lives before the time when we could do such a thing. We decide to take a vacation and get into our cars, a train or a plane and go basically where ever we wish without a lot of thought about the days when such travel was beyond the realm of possibility. We are able to read books of our choosing, listen to music we like and watch movies we want to see. We are all lucky.

We are lucky that certain men and women woke up one day and decided to give more than their fair share. They stepped up to the plate and swung hard and hit a home run for all of us. They acknowledged the risks, took up their arms and marched into the gaping maw to fill the gap so the rest of us wouldn’t have to do it. The freedoms that I enjoy on this rainy Monday sitting in my comfortable, air-conditioned home, were paid for by the blood of thousands who were willing to do the hard things. It was a sobering moment when I heard my uncle say he was lucky, a moment that took many years to come back to me. For in his words I find the humility of a true military hero unwilling to take any credit for surviving one of the most difficult events anyone can survive. In his words, I realize that the ones who did not survive are still with him each and every day. In his words, I hear his acknowledgement of the unfairness of it all. And finally, in his words, I hear his thankfulness that God protected him and allowed him to return to the relative comfort of his life and the lives of all those he was prepared to die for.

The lives we live are insulated by the blood of men and women who did not return. And more than anything else, when he said, “I was lucky” I was really hearing him say “Thank you.” We believe in our comfort that we can change the world that somehow we can make it more fair when in reality all we can change is our reaction to the unfairness. Today, on this Memorial Day, we should react by remembering how unfair we are to only set aside one day to remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for our comfort.

I am lucky and so are you. No matter the situation, no matter how unfair life has been, we are all lucky. To the men and women of the United States Military, I say, “Thank You!” For without your courage, your strength, your committement, your dedication, and yes, your lives, how much more unfair would our lives be.

I could tell you about  an older man who had cancer of the throat and lost the power of speech. He was brought to our shop by his daughter because she wanted him to get a computer to “give him something to do.” He purchased a laptop and with a little training, discovered how to email and chat online and found a new way to communicate with the world. Several months after his purchase we learned that his new habit was to rise early in the morning, take his laptop with him out to the front porch along with a cup of coffee and spend the better part of the morning typing messages back and forth with people he would never meet face to face befriending and begin befriended without needing to speak aloud. His daughter said he was happier than he had been in months because of his new portal to the world.

I could tell you about the man and his wife with a paralyzed son who was given an electric wheelchair that didn’t work because they didn’t have the right power cable and the power supply that charged up the wheelchair wasn’t working. The man couldn’t afford to order the new parts, but he was sort of a handyman when it came to fixing stuff and just wanted to know if we had any used parts that he could try to use to fix the wheelchair. I went through my collection of used parts (from computers no one wanted any more and were given to us) and sure enough we found several mismatched parts that he thought he could re-work into a charging system for the electric wheelchair.

I could tell you about the older gentleman who wrote books on his computer but knew very little about how to do much else with a computer. The last few years of his life he spent writing at home and getting technical assistance on a regular basis from my wife, Pam. I told him several times that I really didn’t believe he was having that many problems and that he just liked getting hugs from Pam. His smiles and his friendship were payment enough.

As a part of my job I spend a huge amount of time on the Internet and because I love what I do, I spend a lot of time on the Internet when I’m not working too. I get hundreds of forwarded emails every month from all of my friends and customers. Many of these forwarded emails I’ve seen before but there are some that are really good that I keep. One of the things that the Internet has done well is to help spread the good stories that we rarely get to see in the news. These are the stories of real people achieving things beyond the norm and the Internet has helped spread those stories and the optimism inherent in them wide and far.

Today, I got a newsletter that included a link to a video I’d never seen before and it shattered my illusion of being a hero. The kids in this video are my heroes now and I dare you to watch this and not get a tear in your eye or at least a lump in your throat. I’m not going to describe the video and ruin it for you, but I will say this: The Internet was created to share stories like this one. This video is a keeper and you should forward it to everyone you know. Everything else is fluff.

Click here to view the embedded video.

In 2007, Pam and I went to see John Prine & Iris Dement in Thalia Mara Hall in Jackson, MS. All through the show we were treated to the bright light of the cell phone screen of a girl in the row directly in front of us. She must have been a music critic from Rolling Stone magazine or something because she was constantly texting someone her thoughts and feelings about each song that was sung, while John was still singing it. The screen was so bright in the dark, it was difficult for us to focus on the spotlighted artists on the stage. When she finally decided to crawl all over everyone and left the hall our excitement was short-lived and dissolved into complete disappointment when she returned shortly thereafter. She was walking kinda funny, but her male friends seemed very pleased when she got back because she was able to smuggle in what must have been a case of beer between her legs. She made it back to her seat and started passing out beer and everyone started popping tops and having a great time. It wasn’t long before she just had to text someone and explain how she did it. Then, they all had to make individual bathroom runs because of all the beer they drank.

Either my wife and I are picking the wrong venues to see artists and shows, or this is not an unusual occurrence these days. When we went to see the ‘Mikado’ at the MSU/Riley Center Opera House, the emcee came out on stage and politely asked everyone to turn off their cell phones. As he made his point, I thought about just how often I hear ringing phones or worse ring tones in shows, theaters, church services, and special events. I swear, if I hear Crazy Frog starting up his motor-scooter again when my preacher is praying, I’ll go crazy. And, I’m sure God ain’t far from the breaking point either. Has everyone gone mad? Are we so afraid of missing a call that we are willing to forget that there are other people in the room with us?

Electronic Social Graces are gone, if they ever existed. And, it is not just cell phones that are a problem. Our lives are so involved with electronics that the erosion of our civility to each other is happening everywhere. I love my mp3 player, but I hate seeing drivers with earphones in their ears as they drive down the road. The only time I used to see people with earphones was at a ballgame so they could listen to their favorite sportscaster call the game and back then, people only had one ear piece so they could still hear what was going on around them.

These days, I wouldn’t be surprised to see someone bring a portable dvd player to a restaurant to watch a movie. No, wait, I DID see that! My wife and I went to Red Lobster for dinner with some friends and a couple was seated at the table next to us a little while after we arrived. Without warning, the guy pulled out a portable dvd player and popped in a movie, turned up the volume and they began to watch the movie before they even ordered. It brought a whole new meaning to the concept of “Dinner & A Movie.” It is no longer “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” and more like “Guess What They Brought WIth Them.” After watching all the heads turn in the room, we finally asked the waitress to do something. She went and got the manager who at least asked them to turn the volume down.

We all get spam email and while I really appreciate that so many people are truly concerned about my sexual well-being, I’ve gotten used to just ignoring most of it. I got an email the other day signed ‘John.’ There was a single sentence in the message and there was no identifying corporation name in the return email address. I knew the message wasn’t spam, because ‘John’ was writing to ask that I call him back about a specific technical support problem he was having with a program I wrote, but I swear I couldn’t figure out which customer he was because I have a lot of clients named ‘John.’ I didn’t want to just email him back and ask, ‘Who Are You?” because I thought that would have been rude, so I spent about 24 hours trying to figure out who he was, then finding his phone number so I could call him back. It would have taken about 2 minutes for him to set up an auto-signature to show at the bottom of each one of his out-going messages with his full name, company, and telephone number and had he done so, I could have called him back 30 seconds after receiving his email. As it was, he didn’t get prompt service because he didn’t identify himself clearly.

Just the other day, I was in the check-out line in the dollar store when the person in front of me said, “How’s it going?” and since I live in a friendly place and I’m a friendly guy, I said, “Not bad, working too hard, but things are good! How about with you?” At which point the person turned their head around and looked at me with a strange, irratated look and said, “Can you keep it down? I’m on the phone.” Then, I saw the tiny BlueTooth earpiece in her ear and I felt stupid. It’s not fair, if you are going to wear one of those things and talk to someone in the middle of a store, you have to figure that someone is either going to assume you are talking to them, or worse talking to yourself sometimes! But the earpieces keep getting smaller and harder to spot and having friendly chats with strangers is going the way of the Edsel. Maybe these earpieces should have a light that sticks up above their head and it flashes when they are talking on the phone. That way everyone will know they are on the phone and we can laugh at how stupid they look with this light flashing above their head.

A recent news item came out about a guy who was looking at porn in a library and when the librarian finally called the cops, he was sent away and she was fired. At what point, did our Electronic Social Graces devolve to the point where those with good taste and good sense are the ones persecuted instead of those who have none.

There are no Manners Police and there probably won’t be a push to incarcerate those people without Electronic Social Graces however satisfying that would be. But peer pressure can help a lot. After all, we are beginning to win the war against those who insist on sending email messages written in upper case. I’m seeing fewer and fewer of these ‘screaming’ messages as time goes by, so I know it is possible to make a difference.

Next time someone begins texting in a movie theater or concert, politely remind him or her that the light of their phone is just as annoying as the ringing. Ask your friends to put auto-signatures on their emails and point out that you can call them a lot quicker if you don’t have to look up their telephone numbers. It won’t change the world over night, but perhaps we can all enjoy the next movie we see together just a little bit more. Until then, I guess I’ll just have to get used to seeing spots in my eyes and hearing ringing in my ears.

Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to work with some really nifty companies such as a chicken processing company in Atlanta called King’s Delight; Quikrete, the packaged concrete company, Outdoor Technologies up in Macon, MS; an office furniture manufacturer in Grand Rapids, MI; Pat O’Brien’s in New Orleans; a bunch of great companies right here in Mississippi and even a Canadian company named Bombardier that manufactured Ski-Do watercraft. Along the way, I’ve written software for the timber industry and worked with foresters all over the Southeast. And a few years back, I released a product to help telemarketers comply with the Do Not Call Law that went into effect in 2003 to make sure telemarketers didn’t call people who didn’t want to be called.

In the course of fifteen years, I’ve enjoyed meeting and selling my software products to customers in about 28 of these United States and at least two countries and it has been enlightening, entertaining and down right interesting to learn about the different businesses and to become acquainted with lot of good folks just like you and me. They go to work everyday and earn a living and whether it is by sitting behind a desk, counting trees in the woods or knocking on doors by and large they are all honest, hard working folks trying to provide for their families. From Georgia to California to Michigan to New Jersey to Texas to Florida and all in between, there are a lot of good people out there and I’ve enjoyed getting the opportunity to meet a bunch of them.

Back when I was about to graduate from the University of Southern Mississippi, I noticed a lot of my fellow classmates going on interviews for jobs that would take them away from Mississippi; sometimes a long way away. I thought about it and decided that moving away just wasn’t for me. I knew from the time I was about thirteen years old that I wanted to start my own business and I really wanted to do it right here in Mississippi. I felt there was two ways to go: 1) I could go to a big city and try to make good and maybe come back, or 2) I could create my opportunity right here in my home state. The latter option though harder, meant that I could stay near family and if I played my cards right, I might even be able to say one day that I had added something to the economy of Mississippi and maybe in some small way helped improve Mississippi a little bit too.

When I finally started my business and began to get referrals from ADP to perform some job for a client in some other state, I would put on my real radio voice and brush off my best vocabulary taught to me by Ms. Tedder in my Senior Year of High School and I would call the customer up and begin pitching them on the benefits of agreeing to let me do the job. I would try to ask all the right questions, offer my best suggestions and show them my best manners. If the customer resided in a state right next door, say Louisiana or Tennessee, Alabama or Georgia, it usually went as expected, we’d chat for a while and eventually, I’d get the go-ahead to start working on the project.

But pretty early on, I learned to expect that if the client was outside of the Southeast or at least more than one or two states away from Mississippi about half-way through our conversation they would ask, “Now where did you say you were from?” Without hesitation I would respond, “We’re located in Meridian, MS.” There’d be a pause on the other end of the line and I always felt they were thinking, “Meridian, MS? They have computers there?” What they usually said was a little more tactful like, “Really! I thought you were from Atlanta or Memphis or whatever big Southern town came to their mind.”

For me the solution to uncomfortable situations has always been humor, so I’d quickly revert to my native Southern drawl and say, “Yep, we got us a regular ole Sillycon Valley going on down here. Not only have we got computers, last week they installed telephone lines that go BOTH WAYS!” This comment got the customer laughing, broke the tension, and once we had put the stereotypes to bed, we could move on and do some business. Over the last fifteen years, when I’ve been in that situation and responded that way, I’ve rarely failed to get the business. And when I got the business, I did everything in my power to give that customer the best programming, the best service, and the best return on their investment that I could give them.

Representing Mississippi in a positive light has always been one of the benefits I’ve been blessed with doing the work I do. And if along the way, I have changed just one person’s mind about how they view our great state, then I can say I’ve been successful in accomplishing the goal I set out for myself in college: To make my opportunity right here.

Choosing to stay in Mississippi and build my life and my business here didn’t mean I had to isolate myself from the rest of the world. It didn’t mean that I couldn’t do the same sorts of things I could have done in a city bigger than Meridian. All it meant was that I had to reach out a little further and sometimes work a little harder to overcome people’s pre-conceived notions, but in the end it has been rewarding, exciting and educational.

Yes, I am an un-appointed ambassador of my company AND of the Great State of Mississippi. And, so is every other business owner who makes the decision to do his or her thing in this state and then take it to the larger world. Business owners in Mississippi are all Ambassadors At Large and every time one of us reaches outside Mississippi and brings business back home, the whole State of Mississippi takes one more step forward.

Our story starts in Upstate New York, where my wife, Pam, and I were staying with my in-laws in preparation for celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary the day before Katrina roared ashore in the gulf. On the way up north, we were aware of a storm named Katrina that was threatening South Florida and were relieved after arriving in New York to learn that Miami and the other towns in Florida that were in the path of this storm were spared some of the worst possible damage, and though while bruised, most reports seemed to indicate that Floridians would once again bounce back after the storm. The only problem was that a day after the storm hit Florida, we realized that it was not fading away, the warm gulf breezes that grace our coastline were feeding Katrina on a diet of exactly the worst possible food: Warm, Moist Gulf Air. 

As Katrina consumed more and more of this lethal combination, she grew fatter and angrier and by the time of the celebration of my in-laws 50 years together, all of the talk among the some 100 guests at the party was how we were going to deal with a hurricane. Pam and I answered all their questions with a perceived level of confidence that was somewhat at odds with how we really felt. Although we didn’t say it, here we were 1,150 miles away from our home and by all reports, Katrina was headed straight for it. I reminded Pam that when Ivan came ashore, I was in California while she was at home by herself for the worst of that storm, and at least this time, we were both together. We reminded each other that we would face come what may together and we would deal with it. But we both knew we were lying. We were scared for our home, our dog Magee who was in an outdoor kennel, and our business. We kept up the charade for the guests and each other, but as soon as we got home, we turned on the Weather Channel like everyone else and hoped they wouldn’t mention Mississippi. 

I’ll let Pam take up the story from there: 

We were suppose to fly out Monday at 12:25 but that flight was cancelled. We were then scheduled for Tuesday at 12:25. When we left Elmira the flight from Detroit to Jackson was still on schedule. Some time between the time we left Elmira and landed in Detroit the flight was cancelled to Jackson. We met a young gentleman named Graham who was also suppose to be flying into Jackson. He was trying to get to Ocean Springs because he had two 80 year-old grandparents, his parents and a disabled sister there, couldn’t get a hold of them and didn’t even know if they had survived. We told him we were going to see if we could get a flight into Memphis and rent a car to drive to Jackson to get our truck and if he wanted to come with us he was welcome. So that’s what we did. 

We arrived in Memphis and drove to Jackson. On the way to Jackson, Graham got a phone call from a friend who went over to Gulfport from Pensacola and verified that Graham’s family was alive. By the time we reached Jackson, it was dark and we knew there was no way we could drive to Meridian because we had been told that we couldn’t get to our house because of trees down. Graham wanted to rent a vehicle in Jackson and drive to the coast. Unfortunately, due to the power outages, the car rental place was not open. We drove around until 3 am trying to find a place to sleep but there was nothing available in the state of Mississippi. So we pulled into a closed restaurant parking lot in Louisville, MS and we all slept in our truck till 6 am. Then we proceeded to Philadelphia, where we had some breakfast before continuing on to our house.

When we got into Meridian and to our house, I was blown away by the sight of our property. No trees had fallen on our house but the entire look of our front lawn was changed forever. We had 4 very, very large oak trees lining the front of our house and they were completely down. There was another oak on the far side of our driveway and that too was half gone and soon to be totally gone by the electrical/tree workers. There hasn’t been sunlight on the front of our house in many years and now it’s completely flooded with sunlight. We lost one pine tree from the back left side of our house that went across the road and a very large oak from the back right side of the property but that one didn’t cause any problems, just a big mess to clean up. So 7 trees in all and none on our house. We knew we were blessed.

After getting over the shock we proceeded to see what needed to be done with Graham. He contacted his friend in Pensacola again and arranged with him to meet in Hattiesburg, MS to pick him up and take him the rest of the way down to the coast. Graham took a cold shower (because we didn’t have any power) and I gave him a souvenir shirt that said Meridian, Mississippi on it. We went to Sam’s so Graham could buy supplies for his family, filled up the truck with gas and we headed to Hattiesburg.

Shortly after leaving Meridian, all cell phone service vanished. After arriving in Hattiesburg we waited 1 ½ hours and suddenly for no apparent reason, cell phone service was restored momentarily and Graham got a text message that his friend wasn’t able to get from Pensacola to Hattiesburg because I-10 was flooded. We decided that if he could get someone to meet us in Gulfport we’d try to drive him another hour to there. He was able through text messaging to get in touch with someone in Gulfport to meet us near I-10 so we loaded up again and headed further south. We made it to Gulfport, in some cases driving in between fallen trees and met the people that would take him to Ocean Springs and we turned around and came home.

By this time we were able to get into our driveway because of the crews working on the road. We still didn’t have power of course, but that was a small price to pay.

We went to office the next day because we had power there and we had to see what our clients needed. I also found out that my sister has a friend whose cousin lives here in Meridian (didn’t know this until then) and hadn’t been able to get a hold of her. I found out where she lived and tracked her down and was able to let Debbie know that she was fine and would contact her cousin. 

Our power came on Thursday afternoon. So all is now getting back to normal in Meridian. The gas shortage scare is over and we don’t have the long lines at the stations, most everyone has power except for Southern Pine area because they have to totally rebuild their system. Our secretary has that company and they say it may be a month before they get power. Our cable and internet at the house is still out but we can live with that.

We helped out at our church Saturday night distributing a hot meal to some of those that didn’t have power. On Sunday we set up a few computers in our front office free for people to get on the internet to get e-mail, contact FEMA, order prescriptions or whatever they need to do since a lot don’t have internet back up and operational. 

It’s not like we wished the hurricane would go elsewhere, but to be honest, we did wish it had not come toward us. Tragedies are often like that, we learned after the loss of our daughter, Alicia. Things happen that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, but you surely don’t want them happening to you either. But they do. 

So the media has used a huge amount of paper and air-time blaming the government or the President or whomever they could for the carnage. Listening to the talking heads who don’t live anywhere near Meridian, Hattiesburg, Gulfport, Biloxi or New Orleans tell us how bad things are and who screwed up, etc. But let me tell you some things that maybe you haven’t heard:

• Did you hear the one about the Waveland Police Department? When the storm surge hit the coast, their offices were wiped out. There were about fifteen police officers who tried to swim for safety and failing that one office grabbed on to a shrub that the Police Chief had wanted chopped down the week before because it was an eyesore. Fourteen other officers made their way to the same scrub-shrub and held on for dear life to keep from being swept away. They all survived and as soon as the water receded went about policing their community, without a police department office, without police cars, and without most of the things policemen generally depend on. To Serve and Protect. Oh yeah, the Police Chief now wants to make that shrub a monument. 

• Did you hear about the fourteen year old who was trying to out-run the flood in New Orleans and in desperation, hot-wired a city bus and began to collect survivors who all pooled their money, bought gas and drove to Houston and safety? He’d never driven a bus before and although it might be considered stealing, he took a risk and saved as many people as he could load on that bus. Even when the city government couldn’t or wouldn’t act, he did. 

• Did you hear about all the people who had generators that loaned them to other people as soon as their power was restored. Or the folks who ran extension cords to the neighbor’s house who had power just so they could run a fan?

• Did you hear about the TV station (WTOK) who ran on generators and kept broadcasting on the internet and local radio even when the power was out to keep everyone informed during the worst of the storm? They were angels to us trying to get information about Meridian while we were in New York!

• Did you hear about the radio station (WOKK) who ran twenty-four hours a day providing information and directions on how to get ice, food, shelter and gas with no commercials for three days? 

• Did you hear about all of the guys running around with chain saws cutting the trees out of people’s driveways so they were not trapped in their homes? Did you hear about the thousands of people who opened their homes to total strangers to provide safe haven for coastal residents?

• Did you hear about the young 22-24 year old officer on a Chinook helicopter flying hundreds of missions in and out of areas that were completely inaccessible for days on end?

• Did you hear about the thousands of churches that cooked hot meals for everyone no matter what their situation? Or the small bands men’s groups from churches who are making pilgrimages down to the Gulf Coast to help rebuild and recover? Or the tens of thousands of dollars raised in offering plates Sunday after Sunday?

• Did you hear about the citizens who got out of their cars and began directing traffic at intersections where the loss of power meant there were no signal lights? Or those drivers who saw someone walking on the road after their cars ran out of gas? Or the convenience store workers who kept their cool when everyone around them was not?

Or any of the other thousand and one acts of kindness that took place every single day and continue taking place today even as life gets back to some form of normal for many people? Of course not, because unfortunately, it’s not considered news. It’s the weird and abnormal that makes news by definition: Dog bites Man: Not News; Man bites Dog: That’s News!

By definition, the kindness and wonderful nature of the human spirit to survive and overcome is not news. The things we needed to hear the most during our most difficult time, were in fact, not news to everyone else in the media. But during our darkest time, we needed to hear that heroes were all around us. We needed to hear that the good ole boys and girls the rest of the world laughs about were hunkering down to do what needed to be done.

In fact, we did hear about those things, but by word of mouth. Friend telling friend what someone did for them. And almost everyone we ran into during that time had a story to tell and it was uplifting and inspiring and emotionally heart felt. It made Pam and I and everyone else who heard them want to do something. It made us want to make a difference too.

Maybe the news media needs to think about their definition of news. The way you make the world better is by showcasing the heroes and in the course of doing so, inspire the rest of us to be heroes too. The best news during that time was that the power was off and most of us who didn’t need their brand of news weren’t listening anyway.

All I have to do is start my mower and start to cut and I instantly connect with my childhood. Back in the days when gas was 65 cents per gallon, my dad made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse. Instead of giving me an allowance, he offered to let me use the family push mower to mow yards in the neighborhood to make money. As a bonus, he promised to supply me with all the gasoline and oil I would need and all I had to do was mow the family yard free of charge. Learning how to sell myself to others and how to be an entrepreneur were not what I thought I was doing, I just wanted to earn a little spending money.

I trolled the neighborhood, knocking on doors and offering my mowing services to anyone who would open their door. In just a few days, I had seven yards to mow at $5.00 per yard, with the exception of the big yard on the corner where the guy that owned it paid me a whole $10.00 because he thought it was worth more than just $5.00.

Making $35.00 per week doesn’t sound like a lot now, but for a 13 year old kid it was like winning the lottery. The fact that it came with a lot of sweat wasn’t a lot of fun, but ultimately I realized that my father had given me much more than an allowance. He had given me the opportunity to become self-reliant. If only he had also taught me to save my money rather than spend it, I’d probably be a millionaire.

When I mow grass, I connect with myself. Listening to the dull roar of the twenty-one horsepower Briggs and Stratton engine under the hood of my mower, I escape to a world within my head. Thinking about life, tomorrow’s work, last week’s mistakes I am able to review them all without interruption and I get to wish, imagine or dream for as long as there is grass left to mow.

While mowing, I connect to nature. From the smell of the spruce tree when I cut really close to it, to stopping in the shade of the pecan tree at the back corner of our lot to take a swig of water from the water bottle that I keep in the cup holder on my Craftsman riding mower I am reminded of nature at every turn. I know exactly where the limbs on the old oak tree hang so low that I must lift them so I can pass under without knocking off my straw hat. At the same time, I am aware of the different creatures that live within the boundaries of my yard and am even manage to feel a little guilty about the crickets disturbed by my mower unfortunately eaten by the robin that follows me as I make my laps. I do not feel guilty about the fire ants I run over. I know I’m being selectively moral, but I still can’t help hating fire ants.

When I mow my grass, I connect with the land. I know the roots that have grown large enough to stop my mower cold, because I’ve hit all of them more than once. I know just how far to straddle the small ditch that crosses my property and when to pull out before I get stuck because I’ve been stuck in that spot before. I know where all the rows from gardens planted in the past are and I know to back off on the speed so that I can stay in my seat as I pass over those areas.

When I find an old brick or an old bottle, I’m connected to history and I can’t help but wonder about all the people who have walked in this place before me. I wonder if they thought about the same types of things I do, and I know that they cared about this place as much as I do.

More importantly, when I mow my yard, I connect with my God and in spite of the roar of the motor, I am able to be still and listen to that quiet voice that speaks to my soul, forgives my transgressions and points me toward newly opened doors in my life. Blessings often come in small packages, but sometimes the small ones are the most important. For all around me I am wrapped in the steamy heat of the deep South under a bright blue sky and all is right with the world.

Today, as I made the turn under the oak with the droopy limbs, I saw a terrorist running through my neighbor’s back yard. He was dressed in camouflage with a facemask and a very strange looking and big gun. At least that’s what I thought for a few seconds in this post-9/11 world we now live in. Then I realized it was just my neighbor having a paint-ball war with a friend.

But as I continued to mow my grass, the sight set me to thinking about terrorists and I realized that all the terrorists I’ve ever heard of come from countries that are mostly deserts. Maybe that’s the problem, they have no grass to mow. I’m betting that if they did, there would be a lot fewer suicide bombers because they could connect the same way that I get to. Maybe the government should take bio-warfare research in a new direction and figure out a way to create a grass seed that will grow really fast in sand, direct sun, with very little water. Then we could bomb these countries with grass seed. Then after a few weeks, we could send over a boatload of Craftsman, John Deere, and Cub Cadet lawn tractors. Who knows, maybe with all the terrorists mowing grass they won’t have time to think up new ways to terrorize the world.