This is what happens when I procrastinate

Come the fifth of November, many people will recite the "remember, remember" line from V for Vendetta. They'll post movie screen shots and memorable lines. They will call Guy Fawkes and our favorite dagger-toting revolutionist, V, heroes. Many will fantasize about what it would be like to be a hero like them - to singlehandedly be the catalyst that drives their nation toward a truly better world. A world where politics are no longer filled with corruption. A world where persecution, racism, and bigotry are truly things of the past. Unfortunately, they'll probably do all this without leaving their house. Because, what can one person really do to change things?

We like to fantasize about being revolutionary figures while we sip our cappuccino at Starbucks with our friends, who nod along, throwing in the occasional "definitely" or "wouldn't that be great?" But that’s as close to change as most get. Despite all of the problems we see in our society, we consistently fail to act. We continue to fantasize with no real intention of ever standing up, in the hopes that V will magically appear, and, with the flick of his wrist and some well-placed daggers, change everything we don’t like about our society. We keep telling ourselves that someone else will do it, and we continue to live our nice, comfortable, complacent lives. But this is the exact opposite of what both of these people stood for. There is no V. There is no Fawkes (granted, he was a religious extremist, and we’ve got plenty of those, but that’s not what I’m getting at). Or, rather, we are all V’s and Fawkes’. If we see an injustice, we must rise against it. We are the only ones who will save us. We cannot depend on someone else to be the first one to act. That is the spirit that we should be emulating.

Now, I’m not saying that we should blow up buildings to get our point across. That’s bad, mmkay? But, we should never hesitate to act against an injustice. That’s the only way we can make a change. There is no one single person who can deliver us from all the problems we see in the world; however, there are a hell of a lot of one single persons who can stand together and make a change. And that’s what today should really be about.

So, next time you see something that isn’t right, do something about it. Write a letter to your congressman. Be part of a protest. Fight for what you believe in. Don’t let others take away what you’ve earned; fight for it, with every breath you have. Stop simply shaking your head at an article you read and start acting on it.

Our interests aren’t always going to be the same. We’re all going to fight for different things. Sometimes, or even oftentimes, you’ll find yourself fighting for something that others are fighting to take away. That’s not a problem with this idea, that’s the beauty of it. That’s what makes us human. We are all made differently - we all think and act differently. It is this diversity that makes us one. When you stop and think about it, a group of different people from all walks of life, fighting for a common interest is a truly beautiful thing, and we must fight tooth and nail to protect this beauty.

We cannot be afraid to stand up and act when we see problems. We cannot be afraid of competition or of opposing viewpoints. If you believe in something, nothing should stop you from working your heart out to accomplish it, especially yourself. You should put everything you have into it. And you should teach the next generation to do the same. Teach them that one person does matter. That, while one person may seem insignificant alone, when these individuals group together, they become stronger. But that will not happen if we continue thinking that someone else will do it – continue believing that, while you find something utterly deplorable, you simply can’t take the time to act, and your disgust will have to do.

These stories were meant to inspire action, but instead, have created individuals who expect a vaudevillian veteran to come swooping in and save us all. Sure, the Occupy movement was great. But it only happened because individuals just like you stood together. There should be Occupy-sized movements every day. But instead, we give excuses. “Someone else will do it” or “it’s not that big of a deal” and often “I just don’t have time to do anything about it.” They won’t, it is, and you do. So get up, put on your Guy Fawkes mask, (literal or metaphorical), and take action for something you believe in, and, in doing so, you just may be the exact motivation someone else needs to do the same. And the next thing you know, there will be an army of masked civilians fighting next to you. Go out today and start a revolution. Be the next Occupy. Fight for your rights (and party some, too). And even if you fail, you’ll know that you gave it everything you had. You’ll know for a fact that it didn’t fail because of you. That there was nothing more that you could do. Because, even if you fail, every second was worth it because you fought when you could have not. Fight with every breath, every word, every ounce of energy you have.

As the hero we love so much states: “while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense.” Take back your reason. Recover your common sense. Stop looking for a change in the world, and start being it.

The Smallest Current Coin

They tell you that these are the best days of your life. And in a way, “they” are right. You’ll go through some of the biggest ups and downs of your life over the course of four short years. As Newton so aptly states, with every action there follows an equal and opposite reaction. You’ll face stressful times; high school will throw more in your face than you’ve ever experienced before. There will be heartbreaks, there will be disappointment, and there will be regret. Regret for not making the most of your time here. Personal experience guides me when I tell you that you must make the very most of your high school career, because if you don’t you’ll look back and wish you could change it. However hard you may try, hindsight will always be 20/20, and you will never be able to go back on these “best days.” So if there is one piece of advice I can give you, it is to make the most of your time here, as I wish I had.

However, here’s a secret “they” don’t want you to know. Although you may believe that these truly are the best days of your life, they are, in reality, only the beginning. Because the moment you walk across that stage and are handed your diploma, you begin a new life; a life full of opportunities and new challenges to overcome. Life is so fond of throwing curveballs, and they can put you on the ground, even though they may very well be the very pitch you were looking for. So step forward in the batter’s box of life, take a deep breath, and fire the ball right back in life’s face as a reminder that you won’t be kept down.

No matter where you are in life, you’ll always look back on high school and smile. And maybe even shed a tear; for the good times, for the bad times, for the fights, the breakups, and everything you loved about growing up in a small town. You may say now that you can’t wait to leave Cheboygan and experience a new life, a life you alone are in control of. But there will always be the days that you’ll look back on and wish you could return to the simple days of high school. So do what you can, with what you have, where you are, and never forget this small town you once called home.

Do not be afraid to try things that will make you great. Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. If you are not “born great,” achieve it. Always remember that the greatest barrier to success is the fear of failure. So try everything. Get involved as I wish I had. Don’t be afraid to state your opinion. Nosce te ipsum – Know yourself. Know what you believe in and stand strong against the crowd, and avoid being a lemming. Shel Silverstein once wrote “all the Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas layin’ in the sun, talkin’ ‘bout the things they woulda-coulda-shoulda done… But all those Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas all ran away and hid from one little Did.” So don’t be afraid to try new things. High school offers countless opportunities, and four years is too short a time to put off making memories. So during your short time here, you must be the change you wish to see in the world.

Do not merely be a “dreamer of the night.” For, all men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible. Be a dreamer of the day – make your dreams come true. So go, advance confidently in the direction of your dreams, and endeavor to life the life you have imagined, and you will meet with success unexpected in common hours.

I would like to close with the best advice and most inspirational statement I have heard. In the words of Theodor Seuss Geisel, better known as Dr. Suess:

“You have brains in your head, you have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You’re on your own and you know what you know, and YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have speed, you’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you’ll top all the rest.

And will you succeed? Yes! You will indeed! (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed!) Kid, you’ll move mountains, today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, so GET ON YOUR WAY!”

What If?

Lately a lot of “what if’s” have been racing through my mind. “What if I can’t handle college?” “What if I’m not successful?” “What if I’ve worked this hard, only to fall flat on my face and fail?” “What if things change?”

I’ve always been a worrier. As long as I can remember, I’ve always thought things down to the minute details, always considering, and preparing for, the worst of possibilities. I’m pretty sure it runs in the family. But now, more than ever, the “what if’s” are rearing their ugly face. Maybe it’s because of graduation looming in the distance. Don’t get me wrong; I’m excited to graduate. I’m excited to step into the “real” world. I’m excited to meet new people and experience things on my own, but I also feel this fear. Fear that once I’m out of the safe haven I call high school, that I won’t know what to do with myself.

I’ve never been a big fan of change. I like staying in my little protective niche. I don’t like venturing beyond these boundaries of my home, of school, of my small little life here in this small little town. I’m afraid that, once things change, I won’t be able to keep up and I’ll fall. Hard. And most of all, I’m afraid of failure. Failing to achieve those lofty goals I’ve set for myself during my time here. I’m afraid that, if I should fail, that I won’t maintain the sense of pride others have placed in me. That I will be unsuccessful in my ventures into this strange new world. That I will lose the respect I have worked so hard to achieve. And I’m afraid that, once lost, that there will be no way to regain it.

I’ve always worked hard. Mainly to prove to myself that I can be better, that I can always do better. And here in my miniscule world, I have held this true. But I fear that once I leave this place of comfort, that I will no longer be able to complete this goal. I have gained the respect and pride of many, but I fear that my failure is imminent and I will lose all that I have worked so hard to achieve. Because the real world is nothing like this place I call home.

I fear that I will fail, now more than ever. And I feel that if I do, I will be letting so many people down. And I fear this the most. I’ve always been a people pleaser. I work hard in order to show people all that I can be; and it seems that I have succeeded at this. However, with my future fast approaching, I fear that I will no longer be able to do so with the success that I have in the past prided myself on. “The future is not a result of choices among alternative paths offered by the present, but a place that is created--created first in the mind and will, created next in activity.” I know that I have created my future, both in my mind and in my will, but what if I fail? What if this creation that I have carefully sculpted all of my life blows up in my face, and I’m left in the cold, on my own, lost in this crazy world without any idea of what I should do? I fear this.

“Let others lead small lives, but not you. Let others argue over small things, but not you. Let others cry over small hurts, but not you. Let others leave their future in someone else's hands, but not you.” I will hold my own fragile future in my feeble hands, and do everything I can to not fail. But I know that no matter where I go, that feeling, that worry, those “what if’s?” will follow me.

I will lead no small life. I will be great. I will be known. I will be the change I wish to see in the world. It is this that is my mantra, my nindo, my peace, and my comfort. These words are my protection against the terrible reality of this world I am about to enter into. And I tell myself this every day. And I fear no more. (For the time being of course)

Three Months

I sat down today and realized something. In three months, my high school career will be over. In three short months, I will be a high school graduate. I will no longer be considered a high school student. And I thought to myself “holy shit. Where has time gone?”

When I look back, it seems like only yesterday I was sitting in my kindergarten classroom, scared beyond all belief at the idea of not knowing anybody. But I made friends, friends I still have to this day. And then came the move. In fourth grade I switched schools, and that overwhelming feeling came back. “I don’t know anyone. What if I never make friends?” these thoughts ran through my head constantly. And quite honestly, I don’t know how I made it through. But I did. And I made friends.

With the coming of middle school came the same feelings. People who I played with in elementary school were no longer in all of my classes. I didn’t see them on a regular basis. And I was forced to peek my head out of my shell and survey the world around me. And with my straining and my feeble attempts, somehow, I found my friends; new friends. Ones I could associate with, ones who seemed much like myself. And throughout the tumultuous years of middle school, I carried many of these friends with me. But deep in my heart I knew they would not do so for long.

High school. Freshman year. Possibly the worst year of my schooling. The friends I thought I would have forever were slowly drifting away into other, more appropriate and fitting groups while I was slowly becoming more and more withdrawn. But slowly, ever so slowly, I came out from my shell and this time, I decided that this damn thing was too cramped, and I discarded it forever.

Now when I look back on these days, and the days that followed, I smile. But a small part of me is sad. Sad because I know that there were MANY things that I could have done, things that would have made memories that would last a lifetime, that I chose not to do. And that makes me sad. But I know that the memories that I did make would take up pages upon pages to write, and frankly, for all who know me, this is patience I simply don’t have. But I know that I have changed in my thirteen years of school. Some for the worse, but much, much more for the better – in my opinion anyway.

But now when I look at my classmates, I realize something. On graduation day, when Pomp and Circumstance is playing in the background and I stand up to receive my high school diploma, I will hold no regrets about my time in school. I have learned much along my path, teaching anyone I could along the way. I have made many, many new friends, and still hold several old ones who I can trace my association with back to my first days of kindergarten. I am not the same shy, skittish boy who entered the doors of the classroom ever so skeptically. I am a very different man. And of that I am proud.

So now, as scholarship applications are being completed (which I’m supposed to be doing now) and graduation announcements are being formatted and distributed, I find myself in a familiar place. Afraid. Afraid that, come college, I won’t know anyone. That I won’t fit in. And then, a small voice comes into my head. “So what?” and I find comfort in these words. Because I know that despite my worries and fears of not fitting in, I know that I will. And this comforts me. I also know that even though the miles will be great between my friends and me, that they will never cease to be just that – my friends.

So now, looking out over this new horizon, I find myself inspired to march onward because I know that my friends will always be there beside me, marching on with me, by my side, encouraging me, and giving me the strength and courage to move on.

In three short months I can no longer call Cheboygan Area High School my school. But I will always remember those who traveled this long and winding road by my side.

Ohana

"Ohana means family, family means no one gets left behind.”

You know who you are. And you know why this has to be said. You are sisters; You share blood, you share parents, you shared your childhood – the ups, the downs, and everything in between. You protected each other, you cared for each other, you covered each other’s asses when there was trouble brewing. You fought, forgot, and forgave. Where is that now? When it is most needed? There’s a Spanish Proverb that says that “an ounce of blood is worth more than a pound of friendship.” You were blessed with a large family, one that showed love, unbreakable, immeasurable, love, at every opportunity. And now, that love ends. You will let the unbreakable bond of family end here? You will disregard the love that your parents taught you because of a family spat? Now?

With the birth of a beautiful baby girl comes a need for love. I know for a fact that she well be given love, unconditional, life altering love from me. And as she grows, she will see the love that I hold for my family; a love that I would give my life to keep. But I cannot be the only one she sees this from. She must see that the love a family holds for its members is not exclusive, but open to all. Bickering between family members is to be expected, and I’m not saying everyone should get along one hundred percent of the time, but family spats cannot be allowed to interrupt and halt the love of a family.

With the anniversary of the passing of the greatest man we knew quickly approaching, you must remember the lessons he advocated. The single most important thing I’ve ever heard came from him. “family is everything. Nothing matters more, and nothing can ever take the place of a family’s love.” We all knew who said this, and I know that you respect him with everything you have. But you can’t continue to simply disregard this lesson. He loved everyone, regardless of screw-ups, mistakes, harsh words, or hasty and rash actions. He did not see mistakes; he saw only family; as we should.

I’m not taking sides; I know that’s not going to solve anything. But I know that there has been side taking, which reminds me of an elementary school fight. There have been words that should have never been spoken; there have been actions that should have never taken place. But it’s not too late. I’m not saying one person should apologize, I’m saying it should be mutual.

So now it’s coming from me, the nephew. Please, please, please put your differences aside. And leave them there. Especially with the upcoming Christmas season being based so much upon love. Please, if nothing else, for me, forgive and forget, as you did as children, and move on, living, and loving, setting amazing examples for your family as I know you can. I know this because I watched you as I grew, and decided that, like you, I would always love my family, and would do anything to keep them together.

“Love is not merely a word; it is much more than that. It is the fact that you would lay down your life for someone. For greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for his family. You know when you’re in love because you would readily stop a bullet, take a blow, or be harmed in any other way to keep the smallest of harm from coming to your family.”

I know you live by this, I just think someone needed to remind you of it.

On Turning 18

I turned 18 today. At midnight, November 29, 2009, I became a man. And it was exciting to say the least. At first. And then I realized the ugly truth. No more are the innocent days of my youth. I hold myself responsible now. I am in charge of me. No one else. And that thought is what scares me. Now, I answer to myself. I can make decisions. Ones that could affect my life forever. I can vote. I can enlist. I can smoke. I can gamble. I can buy aerosol whipped cream. I can take my life in my own hands. And that scares me.

My mom had me at an early age. And she did a damn good job of raising me. My grandma was there the whole time, encouraging me, coaching her, as her rock, her guardian angel. For the longer story click here. And I am ever grateful to both of them, among the many aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and great grandparents who made me who I am today. But now, it’s just me. And myself. And I. I am responsible for my actions, I am the man they raised, but I am living my life, without their wing over me anymore. I am under my own umbrella, and when I look up at it, I realize something. There’s nothing there. Nothing to protect me. I must fabricate my own protection, my own umbrella. I have the choice of size, of color, of texture, of thickness. I am making my own world. And that scares me.

I am the creator of my own realm. I make my choices, and am responsible for them. And that scares me. But one thing gives me solace. I know that no matter where I am, no matter where I go, and no matter what I do, I will always have my friends, but most importantly, my family. My family, whether living or passed away, will always look out for me; I have no doubt in this. And I know that all I need to do is call, and ask, and I will be surrounded by them, comforting me, encouraging me, being my rock, and my guardian angels. Because I live in a family that emphasizes love above all else. My great grandpa, possibly the greatest man I’ll ever know, told me something. “Life is never about the money that you have in the bank or your wallet. It’s about your family and the love you share. “ And by this set of standards, I’d say I’ve got it pretty good. And that comforts me.

Today, on November 29th, 2009, I became a man. I am responsible for myself. But I know that everything will be ok because I have the best thing anyone can ask for - the love of his family. And that comforts me.

American Heroes

If you had asked me on December 30^th of last year if heroes still existed, I would have answered, “no,” with absolute certainty. My great-grandfather, my hero, died that day and left behind a family who sometimes still has no idea how the world kept moving as though nothing had happened.

My grandfather served our country during World War II as a Ham Radio Operator in the Army. He traveled with generals and commanders, often in the heart of battles where Morse code was crucial to the execution of battle plans. As a young child, the stories that he shared with me were exciting and sparked my imagination. I was a soldier in his barn, tapping out messages to my comrades -- saving us from death -- awaiting my hero’s welcome as I arrived home.

As often happens, the magic of those fantasies faded as I grew, and transformed into darker things -- things that, when no longer shielded by the innocence of youth, were harder to conceive and difficult to think about.

My grandfather told of the men he traveled with, fought beside, befriended – the men that he watched lose limbs and eyes and sanity, and sometimes lives. Many of those men were 18 years of age, a milestone I will achieve in just a few weeks. And I often find myself thinking, “How did they do it?” Like so many of my peers, what I perceive as hardship and unjustness is nothing in the face of what those extraordinary men did. They went from farms and high schools, baseball fields and graduation parties into the eye of a raging storm, and they went without question and without protest, out of duty to their country. However, they didn’t go without fear. Perhaps Dan Rather put it best: “Courage is being afraid, but going on anyhow.”

It is often the war veterans that we describe as heroes; this is not without reason. The greatest of these heroes, though, are not those who come home, promising to stay in touch with their fellow soldiers as they return to the society they fought so hard to protect, but rather those who come home in silence, a flag draped over their coffins left to speak for them. It has been two years now since my cousin returned home a memory, a hero, -- but ultimately -- a casualty.

Along his final journey home, he was given the welcome of a hero. The roads were lined with people, holding flags, hands over their hearts — a woman in her garden, eyes to the sky; a man in his wheelchair along a dirt road, waving his tattered flag; an entire school system lining the streets, a silent tribute, immortalizing their hero, and thanking him for his service; a man, perhaps 30 years of age, covering his face in grief as Matt’s hearse passed by. His death marked the second time that he had been wounded in battle. The first injury he sustained was received under fire, as he provided cover for his fellow soldiers. He received the Silver Star and Purple Heart for his heroic actions that day, but when recovering from that injury, all he spoke of was being able to return to his brothers in arms. One of the things that Matt said remains with me still: “I’m not a hero. The real heroes are the guys that don’t make it—those that are killed in action.” Two years later, he was one of them.

Are there heroes left then, you ask? And my mind wanders back to that December day and those that followed, and my heart recalls the hurt and the sorrow and the pain—those moments trying to be brave and not cry, trying to forget the boy playing war hero in his grandfather’s barn. On that day, in those moments, I would have said “no, the heroes are gone.”

However, since then, a new light has dawned within me: it wasn’t how they died that made them heroes. It wasn’t the flags on their coffins or the salutes at their graves; it was the way that they lived their lives.

Do the heroes of my youth exist? No; they never did. Those heroes were without flaw, without fear, and had bravery that knew no bounds. They were immortal.

So again, you ask, do heroes still exist today? Wholeheartedly, yes. They are the soldiers in uniform, serving our country; they are the mothers and fathers who sacrifice each day to provide a good life for their children; they are teachers, nurses, doctors, volunteers; they are brothers and sisters and strangers that offer hope with a small act of kindness and no expectation of anything in return.

Benjamin Disraeli once said, “The legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and the inheritance of a great example.” I’ve been fortunate to know so many heroes and to recognize how many more exist around me. They’re not only heroes in quiet deed and action, but also in motivation—they are people who have inspired me to do my best in hopes that perhaps, someday, my grandchildren might play in a barn with one idea of heroism, and then as they age, grow to realize – just as I did -- that true heroes aren’t immortal—but their examples, and memories, certainly are.