Tag: Personal Essay

To The Woman I Fell In Love With

Published on by Bryan13 Comments

Okay, this is going to be a departure from the usual topics but tonight I just need to do this one for me.

There was a woman I fell in love with. We met in the Portuguese Speakers Wanting To Learn English room on www.orkut.com January 2nd, 2005. We talked for the first time on Windows Messenger and it was for four or five hours but it felt like much less because we enjoyed it so much.

I didn’t see her again for a day or two as I recall, and worried she hadn’t enjoyed the conversation. I finally left her a note, no response. But then one day I ran into her again and it happened again.

At some point I called her, and that connection was also special.

I had a mission trip to Rio, Brazil in April, so arranged to stop and visit with her. From the moment she and her grandma Cleonice met me at the airport, that was it for us. Bianca was mine and I was hers for the next six years.

I visited her every two weeks, using frequent flyer miles, whenever I could pass through on a mission trip, etc. 10-14 days at a time, but they were little slices of heaven. We were so in love and so connected. And it was the greatest feeling of my life.

In 2006, I asked her to marry me. Got on my knees, gave her a ring. She said “yes.” And so in April 2007, after her college graduation, she moved to be with me. In between was all the visa paperwork and immigration documents and fees, a lot more phone calls and a lot more IMs. But I had finally found someone to spend the rest of my life with. After 36 years, I had stopped believing. Bianca made me believe again.

April 14, 2007, we married in a small ceremony in St. Louis.

The marriage was pretty good. A few issues with adjustment to culture and weather and the realities of a husband who needed to work and a lonely wife who was in a new place. The challenge of money limits, trying to find her a job, etc. And although there were moments of odd behavior I now know the explanation for, we were happy, and life was good.

That lasted two and a half years.

The nightmare began October 5th, 2009, when I came home from teaching music in Mexico to find a desperate message from Bianca begging me to pick her up. She knew I was in Mexico. She’d ridden the bus to town to do a workshop for her new job, I thought. She should have been home hours before. What had happened? My cell phone was off to avoid International roaming. The house was empty. So my friends and I searched until early morning. I didn’t know where she was until a policeman arrived at 4:30 am. She was barefoot, had walked all the way downtown, 40 miles or so, thrown away her cell, her wedding ring, all her documents. And was dodging traffic on the highway.

Two days later, I got her forcibly admitted to psychiatric care, the first of five times in the next two years.  The treatment was hell because she was not herself and she blamed me. And the first time they let her out, I had to take her back kicking and screaming after only a few days.

But when she got out the second time, she forgave me, admitted I showed my love for her by getting her help and took her meds. A year later, it was hard to remember all that because life was so good again.

In January 2011, Bianca was at UTEP getting As. Her long time dream of finishing her education was a reality. She had a good job too. Everything looked really good.

Oh there were hurdles. I’d lost my job in May 2010, we believe strongly, because of health care costs from Bianca’s illness (something we could not prove sufficiently to go to court but did have strong evidence of). I lost my second job, when the employer was worried I’d leave town and needed continuity and found a replacement. Then unemployment got cancelled. Times were hard. But Bianca worked hard to support us and she encouraged me. And we made it through, got unemployment back. I even had a seasonal job at H & R Bloch. And Bianca was in school.

I was so proud of her. Just so amazed. She was so serious about it. So dedicated. And she did well. I was happy the loans had made it possible.

Then in March, I fulfilled a dream, by going on scholarship to Rainforest Writer’s Village. When I left, she was a bit mad that I was leaving her alone for so long, but things were otherwise okay. By mid-week, she sounded different on the phone. And by the weekend, she was full on manic. The Bianca I’d left behind was gone. And I haven’t seen her since.

She had three more forced hospitalizations, two in state institutions. Lost her job. Lost her school mid-semester. Everything she’d worked for, gone. And I was dealing with a person who hated me again and was mad at me because she was in the hospital. She still wanted me to visit so I could be verbally abused by her. But she denied loving me. Expressed regret of our life together.

I thought for sure the meds would resolve it again. But this time, she never came back.

On Tuesday, June 7, we signed divorce papers. We’d filed the previous Friday. Wednesday, June 8, Bianca flew home for Brasil, forever.

I lost my best friend. I lost my lover. I lost my companion. I lost my wife. And all I can do is cry and mourn the person I lost not only physically but mentally.

Things were so good, so many times. So many precious memories. So many wonderful moments.

The woman I fell in love with doesn’t deserve the life mental illness is creating for her. She deserves love and success and motherhood and so much that she may never have again because of bipolar disorder.

I may find love again. I may have my family. But I know a part of me is gone with Bianca. Because she gave me so much in our short love affair. And at the moment all I can do is wish it had been longer.

I miss you, Bianca. I really loved you. I really cherished you. I’m sorry I didn’t say that enough. I’m sorry I hurt you sometimes. I never meant to. And I’m sorry you have this horrible disorder that’s torn us apart and destroyed our love, the life we worked so hard for. I miss you so much. And our pets miss mommy too. I hope you can conquer this disorder. You’re so smart and talented, if anyone can, it will be you. A part of me just wishes, at least right now, that you could have conquered it with me beside you.

May God bless and keep you, my amor. Thanks for the wonderful time we did have. I’ll always cherish that.

For what it’s worth…

Bryan Thomas Schmidt is the author of the space opera novel The Worker Prince, the collection The North Star Serial, and has several short stories forthcoming in anthologies and magazines. He’s also the host ofScience Fiction and Fantasy Writer’s Chat every Wednesday at 9 pm EST on Twitter, where he interviews people like Mike Resnick, AC Crispin, Kevin J. Anderson and Kristine Kathryn Rusch. He can be found online as @BryanThomasS on Twitter or via his website. Excerpts from The Worker Prince can be found on his blog.

The Importance of Preparedness In Event of Family Crisis

Published on by Bryan

Okay, this is a departure from the usual focus of this blog. But most of you know I have been going through a huge crisis with my wife, Bianca. Bianca has Bipolar Disorder I, a serious mental illness which involves manic episodes in which she is very aggressive and angry and hard to control. Bianca hates lack of control anyway. I sometimes wonder if this is because her mind races out of control even when she’s stable and so she constantly grasps for control to fight her sense of losing control. I don’t know. I can’t be inside the mind of a Bipolar person. But I know that if I had ever imagined how bad a crisis could be, I would have been more prepared.

When Bianca is having a manic episode, she can seem normal to people who don’t know her. Sure, she talks a lot, but Bianca loves to talk even when she isn’t manic. And she can definitely exercise her will and free choice. The problem is, she is not rational and her choices are wrong and not in her best interest or even crazy illogical. But because of the stupidly written HIPPA law given us by Nancy Landon Kassebaum and Ted Kennedy, hospitals must protect patient privacy and that means, since the law is so broad, they tend to obey patient’s wishes until they are declared mentally competent by a court of law. So Bianca was able to shut me out of any health info, any visits, any decisions. She could order up medical tests which cost tons of money by claiming cancer or other ills. I don’t think she did but she could have. And I would have a bill to pay with no input on the decision.

What Bianca and I needed is what all of you with spouses need: executed power of attorney and medical power of attorney documents (also called designated health care agent). These documents, fairly standard, can be prepared for you by an attorney at low cost, signed before a notary, and then ready if you need them. Dear God, I hope you never do, but what if you did. What if one of you became brain damaged and was in dementia, making insane decisions but not able to be declared mentally unsound easily. What would the other person do? Want to feel helpless? Wait for that to happen. What if one of you was in a coma and the other needed to make decisions on co-signed finances or finances you didn’t know much about? About medical treatment, etc.?

If you don’t have those documents, you will have to file for guardianship like I did and it will cost you 20 times more money and stress. Don’t wait to find out, be prepared.

On top of it, if one of you handles all the bank accounts and stocks, etc., create a one sheet with passwords, account numbers, bank addresses, even phone numbers and contact persons for the other. Put it in a safety deposit box but let the other person and one friend you trust know it’s there. The person you love may be so distraught they won’t remember. The friend can remind them.

Here’s an example of the document as it is statutory in Texas: http://www.ilrg.com/forms/states/tx-powerofattorneymed.html

In most cases, you will want to assign two designees with health care power of attorney. That’s in case both of you are incapacitated at the same time in an accident, so someone can pay bills, take of the kids and pets, etc.  Don’t be afraid. The documents will specify the circumstances under which they can be used, and the length of time before the power is resumed by you. In case of divorce, the document can be listed as being nullified. It’s not giving up your rights immediately at any time. It’s for emergencies only. And it’s worth it.

Trust me. You don’t want to live the nightmare I am living. I hope to God you never face similar circumstances, but what if you do? It’s hard enough seeing the person you love in this condition. Having them fighting your every decision when you’re trying to just get them the best care. It’s hard enough having a hospital treat you like a stranger with no say. Do you really want that? Being prepared is the only way to avoid the stress and bankrupting expense I am facing. And you’ll be able to act quickly, not wait for court decisions. It may be the difference between life and death for your loved one. In my case, it’s not, thank God. But what if it was? Can any of us afford to take that chance?

For what it’s worth…

Memories of My Wife Bianca

Published on by Bryan3 Comments

Last Tuesday, 1 month before our 4th anniversary, I had to put my wife in the mental hospital against her will for the second time. Bianca is a highly intelligent, gentle, sweet, giving, joyful person. But when her bipolar II flares up she’s angry, mean, arrogant, and mischievous. I woke up at 5 a.m. and found her cutting phone chords and cables for the internet with a scissor because “I don’t like that stuff there.” This was after I’d already tried once to get police to take her in. They refused because she looked normal to them. They don’t know her. How would they know normal for her? In any case, I worried she’d cut an electrical chord and start a fire or electrocute herself. So it was time.

This is the second time in two years I’ve had to commit her. Having to put someone you love in the hospital against their will, while they beg you not to, is the most painful experience ever. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. And I’ve done it three times, twice the first incident, once now. It took four of us to literally carry her to the car while she fought and screamed, then me to drive us 30 minutes to the hospital, again while she screamed and insulted us. It’s weird to look in the face of the woman you love and see a stranger looking back at you. A stranger who looks just like her, has the same voice, but says things which sound nothing like her.

I try very hard to block those memories. Most of the time I can. I don’t want to remember her this way. I prefer to remember her as the woman who blessed my life, the one I fell in love with. I’m pained by the memory of how much I took her for granted in the months preceding this relapse. I should have been her biggest cheerleader when she finally got to live her dream and go back to school to finish her degree. She was doing so well, making awesome grades, and she was working 30 hours and going to school 18. I was so wrapped up in my worries, I was lackluster in my enthusiasm, and I feel like such a jackass now. The times she wanted to cuddle and I was so busy with writing, I put it off and never got back to it. The times I didn’t listen when she was so excited to tell me something mid-draft. I feel like such a loser. Here’s the woman who chose me. After years of failed romances, after 37 years alone thinking I’d never find anyone, she chose me, and I was so unappreciative so much of the time.

When I went away to Rainforest Writers, my thought was that it would be good to have time away to refresh our relationship. The moment I arrived, I missed her and wished she was there. Little did I know that when I got home, I’d still be missing her, because I haven’t seen the real Bianca since before I left.

The real Bianca is such a delight to be with. She is so enthusiastic, often seeing the world through a child’s eyes. She’s fascinated by people, places, language — so many things I easily write off as ordinary. And through her observations, she helps me look at the world in new ways. It’s a real help to me as a writer. And it’s something about her I have always treasured. She’s a great cook and a good housewife. She’s thoughtful even when I’m not. Oh she has her faults, of course, but I have more. And the fact that she’s always loved me and thinks I’m cute, handsome, wonderful always blows my mind.

I so wish it could be me and not her. I wish I was the one in the hospital. I wish it was me losing my job, dropping out mid-semester of my school, etc. If I could take her place in a moment, I so would, because I suffer so much for her. It breaks my heart every time I think about it. I am crying as I type this because I feel such despair, such hopelessness, and such fear that I will lose her, that this is it, that she’ll never get through this. It’s so hard to not get much information from the hospital due to privacy laws. Biance is in no condition to sign a waiver, so the hospital has to protect itself from lawsuits, even though I’m the husband. It’s so difficult to see her struggling and not be able to protect her; to be made the bad guy in manic Bianca’s eyes, when all I did I did to protect her and get her the help she so desperately needs. I wouldn’t wish this situation on my worst enemy. And it makes me determined to do all I can to build awareness and find support for developing a cure to all mental illness.

What a horrible thing it is to see someone with such skill and potential robbed of their life by such a horrible disease. To see them so destructive when they don’t even know what they’re doing. To see them resist the help they need when it’s right there in front of them. I curse Satan and beg God to please help my wife. Give me back my lover, my best friend. I wish it was so easy. Every moment is agony as I’m forced to wait and see if things will ever be the same again. I have small hope in the fact that our marriage came back better than ever from the last time. I can only hope she’ll feel that way and be ready to try again.

It’s hard to know that this kind of thing will likely happen again–it’s cyclical, so probably every two years. On the other hand, I’ve heard stories of people who take their meds and are stable the rest of their lives, so I hope that for her. And yet I fear days to come. If I get her back I intend to treasure every moment, and I hope I don’t forget. I must never allow myself to be too busy to appreciate her. I must let her know how much she means to me, and I must remind her daily of that. Maybe the strength of my love will help her. I hope so. I know the strength of her love has helped me. And I know I feel so lost at the idea of going on without her. Sometimes you don’t realize what you have in the throes of everydaydom. How sad and pathetic a trait is that in human beings? Why does it take a crisis like this to remind us how lucky we are?

I don’t know the answer but I know I need to do better at fighting off that complacency and being appreciative. If only I get another chance. If only I get my Bianca back.

For what it’s worth…

I Celebrate Our Differences and Commonalities In Calling You Friend

Published on by Bryan4 Comments

Today I got a petition in the mail which sparked something in me because it’s about an issue I’m passionate about: abortion. I’m not going to go into details here, because that’s not what this post is about. Instead, I want to talk about how much I appreciate friends who don’t share my view on everything. How’d I make that segway? Read on.

First, I posted my statement supporting the idea of the petition and a guy I’ve had many friendly chats with on Twitter immediately starts attacking me as ignorant, etc. He attacked like a shark and kept circling back for me. Wouldn’t stop, until finally I just blocked him and told him I didn’t appreciate his lack of respect for my right to free speech and freedom of belief. And this guy’s a government lawyer. Nice attitude he has, huh?

I don’t agree with Atheism, yet I have many Atheist friends. I don’t agree with Global Warming theory, many friends do. I don’t like or support Obama. Many friends do. I still have meaningful and profitable conversations with those friends. I still feel a strong sense of caring and respect for them, and I would miss them if they weren’t in my life.

I honestly don’t get the way so many today refuse to be friends with people who don’t agree with them. Seriously, how boring do you want life to be? Do you really prefer to live safely locked inside your comfortable box where no one ever challenges you to think differently or offers an alternate perspective? As a creative person, I’d starve in an environment like that. As a human being, I’d be quite shallow if I lived like that. You will be too, I promise.

When I went away to college, I encountered things I’d never seen before. Had my first openly gay friend. Met my first Jewish friend. Saw public gay bars. Witnessed many things my small Kansas city didn’t reveal to me. I am a better person for those encounters, whether I agree with everything I saw or not. Agreement is not the point. Awareness is.

If I had never spent New Year’s Day 2004 in an African village right out of National Geographic, topless ladies and all, talking to those people about life in their village, visiting their homes, seeing their hospitality, glimpsing their world, I would not be who I am today. And frankly, I like who I am today, even if you don’t. I don’t claim to know what it’s like to be them. I don’t claim to fully understand them. What I do claim is that I have seen a bit of the world through their eyes and it has made me a better man–better able to imagine how the world can look differently through different eyes; better able to appreciate what I have and how I value it; better able to appreciate that I was a man of much narrower vision before that encounter.

I am a man of passion. I’m not afraid to say what I believe and defend it. I try and do it with respect but even I get pissed sometimes and go off. It’s the liability of an artist, say. But I always try to be respectful of others in countering their opinions or when discussing my own, and I never feel the need to call them ignorant, a bad citizen, or other names. I may think those things sometimes, but truly, I don’t know them inside and out. I don’t know every nook and cranny of their thoughts and experience. How can I truly determine who they are?  What I do know is that they are not like me, and I know they have a right to be who they are.

It’s hard to explain your opinions sometimes. It’s hard to talk about issue people feel passion about and take personally. But this world and our country (US) are worse for the fact we are failing to even try so often these days. The fact we’d rather disown you as a friend and person than try and understand you better and find a way to live with it. And I think that’s really sad, don’t you? I think it’s a real loss.

I’m not willing to live my life that way, as hard as it is sometimes. I value my friends who are gay or nonChristian or whatever as much as those who are like me, straight and Christian. (These traits are just examples. I could offer many more but won’t in the interest of brevity). My point is: I love them no more or less for their views and I refuse to ask them to apologize for theirs or apologize to them for mine. I will attempt to be sensitive to their feelings. I will attempt to present things fairly and in as non-volatile a way as I can. That’s part of respecting and loving other people and the desire for it in return. But I won’t de-friend them. And I hope they don’t de-friend me. (Unless they drive me to it by ignorant behavior like the guy above). Because I need those alternative viewpoints to make me broader, smarter, and more well informed. I need those viewpoints to make me empathetic, understanding, and keep me caring. If I know them and care about them, then discover we differ violently on some issue, I know then I can love someone who’s not like me. Because my love doesn’t stop the minute I discover our differences. And knowing I love people I disagree with helps me be the better person I want to be.

For what it’s worth…

Guest Post From Laura Kreitzer: Human Trafficking & Phantom Universe

Published on by Bryan

Because she’s awesome, and because she’s my good friend, I have invited Laura Kreitzer to be my first guest blogger here. Please read this very important post on the crime of human trafficking
— Bryan
Hello Literary-Folk!
My name is Laura Kreitzer, and I’m the author of the Timeless Series and the Summer Chronicles. This week I would like to alert everyone on a colossal crisis that’s gone unnoticed in the world: human trafficking. That’s why I’ve asked hundreds of blogs to be involved with spreading the word on this issue that’s become close to my heart.

As an author, and someone whose life is put in the spotlight, I keep most people at a distance. Only a handful of my friends know the whole me and the events from my past. But this week I’d like to share with you a part of myself that the outside world doesn’t see (and a part of me I don’t like to share). I was emotionally abused for five years by someone I thought loved me, my mind beaten into submission. Though the turmoil I went through doesn’t penetrate as deep as someone forced into slavery on the worldwide market for human trafficking, I can sadly relate in some ways: imprisoned, my life dictated down to what I wore, ate, where I went, whom I spoke to, where I worked, when I slept, bending to his every whim. He did not sway, even when I cried through some of the more traumatic things he had me do. I was a slave in my own home. In my desperation for freedom, I held out a gun and asked him to just end my suffering. I was desperate. I can’t even imagine how many women (and men) in the world are in a similar situation. What’s even worse, I had it mild compared to the children that are sold for labor or sex. Surprisingly, the good ol’ U.S.A. is reported to be the host to two million slaves. Did you know this? Because I certainly did not; not until I was preparing to write my newest novel: Phantom Universe. The main character, Summer Waverly, was stolen as a child and sold as a slave to the captain of a modern-day pirate ship. From a loved child who only knew “time-out” as punishment, to being whipped into silence was something I knew nothing about. So I researched deeply into human trafficking and the psychological effects of torture of various types that one would endure in these circumstances. I felt shaken at my findings and knew I had to tell Summer’s story. (Read a sneak peek here.)

A storm began to brew in my mind; transforming, morphing, twisting, and expanding into this massive, black cloud. I had to bring this tragic atrocity to the forefront. My own emotional experiences, mixed with the research I did on human trafficking, made me feel an intense connection with Summer, and to all women who’ve been through this kind of brutality. The cloud ruptured and rained all over my computer one day. It took one month to write Phantom Universe, the first in the Summer Chronicles. I was so consumed by the story that I wrote nearly nonstop, only breaking for necessary tasks like eating, showering, and occasionally—very occasionally—sleeping.

Though the book I’ve written would be classified as Science Fiction, or as I’d like to call it, Dystopian, the emotions and psychological aspects are not Science Fiction—they’re real. Reviewers have said many amazing things about Summer, this character who is so real in my mind and who I cried along with as the words poured from my soul onto my screen.

“I admired Summer’s strength and ability to adapt,” says CiCi’s Theories. “I felt tied to her emotions,” Jennifer Murgia, author or Angel Star admits. And Tahlia Newland, author of Lethal Inheritance, remarks, “Summer is strong and smart in mind [. . .]”

Through her overwhelmingly horrendous past, Summer goes on more than just a physical journey in Phantom Universe, she goes on a psychological one as well; growing beyond her mute state to persevere and survive in a new world beyond the whip she’s so frightened of.

Now that the release date is here, I’m excited and terrified to share this story with everyone. I’m emotionally tied in every way to the words I’ve written, because they’re more than words. More than just a story on a page. Beyond the fictional aspects, there’s a real issue that needs to be addressed: human trafficking must be stopped. We shouldn’t sit idly by while this continues to plague us. Our world’s children—our nation’s children—are being affected. It’s time we take action!

Earlier this month Phantom Universe hit Barnes and Noble’s top 100 Best Selling list. I’ve decided to donate 10% of my sales from Phantom Universe, until the end of February, to the DNA Foundation.

“DNA hopes to help abolish modern day slavery, deter perpetrators, and free the many innocent and exploited victims. We are committed to forcing sex slavery out of the shadows and into the spotlight.
Freedom is a basic human right and slavery is one of the greatest threats to that freedom. No one has the right to enslave another person.”
—From DNA Foundation’s Website

I ask that you spread the word to everyone you know. Look around on the DNA Foundation website and find a way to get involved in ending human trafficking. Take action today. Everyone has a voice—you have a voice. Will you have the courage to use it?
——————–
Phantom Universe is an amazing read and the character of Summer is very captivating. I hope you will help us with our mission by spreading the word and purchasing Phantom Universe during the month of February.

Tribute to my Beloved Cat: Lucy, 18.5 years old, died Feb. 2010

Published on by Bryan
A tribute to my dear 18.5 year old first child who died a year ago in my arms.


I’ll always remember the day she came home to live with me – so small she could sit inside my open hand, so cute I just wanted to cuddle and never let go. From day one, she was a talker, always interacting with me using her various Meows and other sounds. I loved the uniqueness of her tortoise-shell fur, the sincerity in her brown eyes, the way she followed me around like a puppy would.

From that day on, we were inseparable. Wherever I was, she wanted to be. She’d sit on the edge of the bathtub while I bathed or showered. That lasted until she got hit by water one day and decided she didn’t like water and began staying away. One day, while I showered, the answering machine went off. She stood in the hallway meowing as she looked back and forth between the machine and me, as if to ask: “How can daddy’s voice be there, when he’s over here?” It was amazing how human she could seem sometimes.

She slept beside me from the beginning. One day, early on, I woke up to muffled meows and realized I’d rolled over on her. That was the first of a serious of guilty accidents for me, when I first saw that look she’d give me as she shook her legs one at a time. It said: “I can’t believe you did that! Grow up!” Lucy always seemed more adult than I ever felt.

That was her name – Lucy, after the Peanuts’ character because she was so stubborn. I carried her around on my shoulder, as I drove, bought groceries, etc. She was so cute that we both got lots of attention, and she was fun to play with and have around.

For many years, while I was single and working long hours, Lucy was my closest companion. She greeted me with purring as she rubbed against my leg when she came home. She’d hop into my lap and curl up or meow for me to pet her. She scolded me when I left her alone too long – avoiding eye contact and keeping her distance to let me know she wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior from me again.
In all honesty, she changed my life forever. My first sole pet after moving out of my parents’ house, Lucy was like my child. I had to feed her, change her litter box, give her attention, etc. In some ways, I spoiled her too much. She was never that comfortable around other people. It had just been the two of us so often, she’d never gotten used to others being around. My sneaking up and surprising her made her skittish.

I taught her tricks, too – things people assured me cats could never learn. I taught her to kiss my finger when I held it in front of her face. She learned to shake and hold my hand, to give me five, and to put both hands in mine and “dance with daddy.” Sometimes, she liked the dancing so much, she would put her hands back after I let go and bite me if I didn’t let her do it again. I taught her to speak and to jump, delighting in her intelligence, her personality, her spirit.

Lucy taught me a lot, too. She taught me about friendship and how to learn to live with another despite their imperfections and irritating habits (mostly mine, not hers). She taught me about parenting, serving as my first experimental child – both playful and stern as the moment required. She taught me about forgiveness. There were the times I stepped on her tail or smashed her foot. The time I awoke from a dream to find myself swinging her by her feet (I’ve never felt so guilty in all my life). There were times I left her for international trips or forgot to fill her water or waited too long to change her litter. Each time she came back to curl up next to me and purr, kissing my finger to let me know she’d forgiven me, and life could go on as it had always been.

What she taught me above all was unconditional love. I had learned about unconditional love in church – the love of God for us, the love of a Savior – but I’d never truly seen it manifest until Lucy came along. She always wanted to be with me, wherever I was, whatever I was doing. She didn’t always demand my attention, content to lie nearby where she could see me, or just hover on the periphery. When she needed attention or food or something else, she let me know, but most of the time it was enough to just be near me. Until I got married, I’d never known another person I felt that way about. No matter how ugly I was when I woke up, how stinky I was until I showed, no matter how unfashionable my clothes, or how scruffy my hair, she loved me. I was her “daddy,” and none of it mattered as long as we could be near each other. Who couldn’t appreciate a love like that? If you’re like me, you probably wish there were more of it.

Eighteen years later, as I ponder our life together, facing the end, it’s hard to believe that soon I may have to live without her. At forty years old, I’ve known her almost half my life. We’ve been together through eight moves, across four states, and too many apartments and houses to name. She’s hung with me through job changes, frustration, depression – even times when we were broke and didn’t know where the next meal might come from. She’s bore the indignity of a new dog joining the family, of being displaced from her usual position on the bed by my wife, and all sorts of other challenges.

Above all else, she’s loved me and adored me, and I have loved and adored her. Now, as her kidneys fail, her hearing decreases, and her walk becomes more strained, she loves me still, and I love her, and somehow I know we always will.

I Believe In Stewardship Not Global Warming

Published on by Bryan7 Comments

In January 1989, while out in Los Angeles preparing to transfer colleges, I interviewed actor Ted Danson for my college newspaper because he was an alumnus.  During that interview, Danson discussed his passion for the American Ocean’s Campaign (now Oceana), which he’d  founded as an environmental-focused nonprofit to educate the public on saving our damaged oceans.  He recalled the time he’d been on vacation with his family and saw such pollution on a beach that he felt uncomfortable letting his daughters swim.  I recalled times I’d witnessed similar sludge in the Rocky Mountains.  I recalled driving through the Alps and being shocked how well preserved they were by comparison.  That was the moment I first believed mankind’s habit of damaging the environment without concern for the future was a major problem.

So, in a sense, I believed one of the tenets of Global Warming long before that theory existed.  Which is one reason I find it easy to say:  I don’t believe in Global Warming theory.  I believe God created the Earth and gave it to man as a home.  I believe we are here as stewards and we have a responsibility to take care of the gift of our planet and preserve it as a gift to be shared with future generations.  I remember hearing about the destruction of Mangrroves by New Orleans and over in Asia as hurricanes hit and realizing the damage had gotten worse than I’d realized.  And thinking we have to stop this.  And I believe we do.

But that doesn’t mean I believe in all this peudo-science used to justify Global Warming.  Climate changes?  Well, Hammartan winds have been causing strange shifts for decades, so why is it all of a sudden Global Warming?  One of my biggest issues with science as a whole these days is summed up in the article http://slate.me/fo8yGr.  Science has become dominated by people with one dominant worldview and ideology.  How can it truly call itself unbiased, how can the methods truly be subjective when the people asking the questions start from such a similar place?  As a science fiction and fantasy writer, I have marvelled how people who can be so creative and open to endless possibility in their writing can be so close minded in their real world attitudes toward God and other subjects.  Is it really so easy to write off a higher being as the iniator of the Big Bang, when one is so convinced a big bang actually occurred?

And the arguments I’ve heard and data I’ve read on Global Warming just prove this to me.  Anyone who even remotely questions the theory is labelled “irrational” or “ignorant.”  What happened to healthy skepticism in science?  Some legitimate questions have been raised about the data and I don’t think true, dedicated scientists of integrity would discount them so quickly.  There’s no doubt, in my mind, that mankind’s activities are harming the environment.  Corporations and governments and others have built for years, destroying habitat and natural resources, without any regard for long term impact.  We’ve known most of my life that oil was not unlimited, that it one day might run out.  The fact that it hasn’t yet, doesn’t change my concern that our dependence on fossil fuels is a long term concern.  In the same way, I can believe that the Earth’s other rich resources have limits. And one has only to read the Wildlife Foundations endangered species lists to figure out  the damage done to the animal kingdom.

Is it really possible for anyone to believe significant damage hasn’t been done to the environment by man?  Not a rational person, no, but rational people still don’t have to believe in Global Warming to be rational.  Sorry folks.  The very suggestion that they do is completely irrational.  This is science, remember?  It’s based on hypothesis which form theories.  In essence, educated guesses, at least until definitive proof exists.  And while definitive proof exists of environmental damage by man, Global Warming theory has not been definitively proven.  So I remain skeptical.

The need for stewardship, however, is obvious.  It occurs not only in personal finance or use of office supplies (particularly witnessed by those responsible for the relevant budgets) but in the face of rising gas prices.  It’s not really a big stretch to apply the concept to other areas as well, such as the environment.  As farmers, my family often spoke of good stewardship of their land.  Land is valuable and to survive, farmers must make the most of every parcel.  Perhaps city folk have a harder time grasping this prospect, but I don’t think it’s that hard.  We have to take care of everything we own if we want it to last.  I learned that every time a childhood toy broke and couldn’t be repaired.

So here I am, proponent of stewardship but Global Warming skeptic. And I am a rational person, despite being a science fiction and fantasy writer.  I have great faith in science and great faith in religion, and I have great faith in human kind.

For what it’s worth…

My Health Care Plan

Published on by Bryan

Since I wear my heart and my opinions on my sleeve, most people probably already know that I am not a fan of Obama or Obama Care. There are many reasons for this, most related to the fact that I believe the Judeo Christian values this country was founded on, and which even the non-religious Founding Fathers respected and endorsed, are being lost. Obama seems to be proponent of things which move us further from that, so I don’t like him and I don’t like other Liberals with those leanings. It has absolutely nothing to do with race. I rejoice with our country that we finally have a long overdue black President. I just wish it was a different one.

That being said, my issues with Obama Care are more complicated. I believe we need to lower the cost of health care, and I believe the chief culprits for it being out of control are drug companies and insurance companies. Having recently had to deal with both closely as my wife was hospitalized and has required long term medication, and having seen my dad deal with them for over 40 years as a physician, I have had a front row seat to their antics. The people who are executives at these firms are some of the richest in the world, let there be no doubt. They sit up there raking in profits while enjoying making us squirm by making it as expensive to buy their products (drug cos) and difficult to get insurance to pay for as they can.

At the same time, they put out drugs with serious side effects when they know how to make them without them. The samples drug reps give doctors which they sometimes give to you to try out, for example. Ever wonder why those don’t give you side effects? Because they are pure, and the ones they sell you are filtered down with additives. This way they can claim to sell you the same product while manufacturing it more cheaply. And this is perfectly ethical and approved by the FDA. So gee, the government should take over health care, huh? Yeah, the government will do it better than they did before, sure.

Insurance companies love red tape. They love to come up with all kinds of small print rules which make it difficult to get your meds on time, etc. My wife was running out of a very serious medication and they said we had to wait seven more days for a refill. I had to pay $16 per pill to get the pills we needed to tide her over. All of this because the doctor had changed her perscription dosage mid-month. The insurance company gave me the run around over several phone calls. I wasted probably four hours of my time with them and more with the pharmacy before someone finally explained the truth. And these are people I pay a lot of money to annually for services. If I ran my business like they do, I’d be bankrupt, yet here we are, allowing them to offer bad service to the public while raising premiums every year.

So, I do think we need to regulate insurance and drug companies. That’s where Health Care Reform starts for me. As far as the indigent and uninsured, I think we should have a public health care plan anyone without insurance is required to use. I think they should also be assessed copays based on income requirements, since some uninsured people just don’t have it because they choose not to, rather than because they’re poor. Rich people, for example, don’t see the need because they are rich. Fine, let them go to public hospitals and wait in line with the rest of the uninsured. We need to have a plan for the uninsured, no doubt, because that also contributes to rising costs, but not at the expense of giving the government control of private medical decisions for those of us who pay thousands a year for insurance.

A friend in England tweeted me recently to say how sad he was to see the US moving toward government health care. He’s dealt with it all his life in England and said now that he needs more serious treatment, he’s not allowed because the government doesn’t want to pay. So he is stuck getting sub-par treatment from government health care. Does that really sound better to you? I think a lot of these pro-Obama Care people will find themselves facing such frustrations. And I have no doubt they’ll be calling the system biased or racist or discriminatory when they do. Even though, if they just did research, they’d realize this kind of thing is what they asked for.

As for the socialism claim, socialism is defined as follows by dictionary.com: “a theory or system of social organization that advocates the vesting of the ownership and control of the means of production and distribution, of capital, land, etc., in the community as a whole.” Isn’t that what we are doing when we give control of health care to the government? So why are the Dems crying out at the unfairness of calling it “socialism,” when it fits the definition?

And if we allow the government to control one thing, soon they will want to control another. It’s amusing to me that a party which loves to complain about “intolerance” are so intolerant of those who disagree with them. What I’ve found over they years is that most people who call others “intolerant” don’t want tolerance, they want agreement. If you don’t agree with them, you’re intolerant.

We seem to have lost respect for free speech, a value which has made this country one of the most successful and most admired in the world. Or used to. When people see abortion clinics bombed, government officials threatened, people wanting to declare themselves independent of the government–among other ridiculous responses I’ve seen to health care–why would they admire us? We don’t even respect free speech in practice when we do things like that. Who would want to live in a country with citizens who can’t handle the government doing things they don’t like? Citizens of most other countries deal with that all the time. They don’t need to come here where people get so riled up by it, they act like spoiled children.

We also seem to have forgotten that we have a lot more in common than different. We all want health, happiness, security, stability. If we really want what we say we want, we should do a better job of working together to find solutions which can really provide that for all of us. Would it take compromise? Of course. How do you think the Declaration of Independence and Constitution were written? Ou Founding Fathers’ writings reveal they didn’t always agree, but they acted together to hash out a compromise to serve the betterment of the nation, and, in the process, founded one of the most successful nations on earth, one most other countries admire in one way or another or have.

We have forgotten the principles on which this country was founded and what they require of us. Our quest for “me first” individualism has led us to become so self-centered, we only want what we want and forget about everyone else. Our current political and social climate are evidence of this, and if we don’t honestly admit it and start making changes, America won’t be America any more.

For what it’s worth…