"We Do These Things, Not Because They Are Easy"

On May 25, 1961, John F. Kennedy went before Congress and proposed that “this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the Moon and returning him safely to the Earth.”  At the time, Alan Shepard had just spent 15 minutes in space -- less, really, as his entire flight lasted 15 minutes -- and Yuri Gagarin had spent 90 minutes doing one orbit of the earth.

The challenge of landing on the moon seems rather simple now in what Winston Churchill would call the light of after time, but in 1961 it was monumental.  So many things had to be tested and accomplished before such a challenge could be reached.  NASA would need to put men into space for much longer than 90 minutes -- up to 14 days, in fact; that would have to be followed by extra-vehicular activity (EVA), or spacewalking, and then orbital rendezvous and the docking of two spacecraft.

To land on the moon, a lot had to be accomplished by a manned spaceflight program that had become known as the "led-footed Mercury" as it struggled to overcome the early challenges of sending men into space.  Shepard was followed in July 1961 by Gus Grissom, with another 15 minute suborbital lob.  Troubles with the Atlas rocket delayed America's first earth orbit mission until February 1962.

Meanwhile, the best method for sending men to the moon was still being argued.  Direct Assent called for a single rocket with the power to launch a single vehicle to land on the moon tail first and then launch from the moon for the trip home.  Because of the enormous weight involved, Earth Orbit Rendezvous proposed using multiple rockets to lift the various required pieces of a moon lander to be assembled as they circled the earth.  This still required a large moon lander with sufficient storage space to sustain the astronauts and power to lift it all from the moon's surface.

A third option called Lunar Orbit Rendezvous was initially rejected as being too risky, but the appeal of the idea eventually won out.  The stumbling block of the other two concepts was the weight of the landing vehicle and the power required to get it off the moon and on its way back to earth.

Rendezvousing in lunar orbit presented an elegant solution, which was to shed no longer needed weight on the way to the moon and on the way home.  Rocket stages needed to get the lunar vehicle into space, with a command module, could be shed once the vehicles were in earth orbit.  The stage needed to send the vehicles out of earth orbit and toward the moon could then be shed once they were on the way.  Best of all, the lunar vehicle itself could be shed when it was time to go home; one half would be left on the moon, and the other half in lunar orbit.  Additional weight could be saved because the lunar module would not have to re-enter the earth's atmosphere.

All of that, however, still lay ahead.  In September 1962, after John Glenn had completed 3 orbits of the earth, Kennedy spoke at Rice University:

"William Bradford, speaking in 1630 of the founding of the Plymouth Bay Colony, said that all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage.

"If this capsule history of our progress teaches us anything, it is that man, in his quest for knowledge and progress, is determined and cannot be deterred. The exploration of space will go ahead, whether we join in it or not, and it is one of the great adventures of all time, and no nation which expects to be the leader of other nations can expect to stay behind in the race for space.

"Those who came before us made certain that this country rode the first waves of the industrial revolutions, the first waves of modern invention, and the first wave of nuclear power, and this generation does not intend to founder in the backwash of the coming age of space. We mean to be a part of it--we mean to lead it. For the eyes of the world now look into space, to the moon and to the planets beyond, and we have vowed that we shall not see it governed by a hostile flag of conquest, but by a banner of freedom and peace. We have vowed that we shall not see space filled with weapons of mass destruction, but with instruments of knowledge and understanding.

"We set sail on this new sea because there is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people. For space science, like nuclear science and all technology, has no conscience of its own. Whether it will become a force for good or ill depends on man, and only if the United States occupies a position of pre-eminence can we help decide whether this new ocean will be a sea of peace or a new terrifying theater of war. I do not say that we should or will go unprotected against the hostile misuse of space any more than we go unprotected against the hostile use of land or sea, but I do say that space can be explored and mastered without feeding the fires of war, without repeating the mistakes that man has made in extending his writ around this globe of ours.

"There is no strife, no prejudice, no national conflict in outer space as yet. Its hazards are hostile to us all. Its conquest deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation may never come again.  But why, some say, the Moon? Why choose this as our goal? And they may well ask, why climb the highest mountain? Why, 35 years ago, fly the Atlantic? Why does Rice play Texas?

"We choose to go to the Moon! . . . We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win. . . ."

Here is a video with highlights of the speech, set to music from the HBO miniseries From the Earth to the Moon:

I don't know about you, but that fires me up.

Our individual challenges might not be as monumental as landing men on the moon.  Some may appear to be insignificant, but others may be a matter of life and death.  However a particular challenge might appear, we may still find it daunting; going on an LDS mission, going to college, starting a new job, running a marathon, etc.  Whatever the challenge we can make the choice to carry on, not because it is easy, but because it is hard, because it is a challenge that we are willing to accept and one that we are not willing to postpone.

As William Clayton wrote in 1846:

Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?
'Tis not so; all is right.
Why should we think to earn a great reward
If we now shun the fight?
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take.
Our God will never us forsake;
And soon we'll have this tale to tell --
All is well! All is well!

Prom Story: New Beginnings

During my sophomore year in high school I was a member of a group called Braves Against Drinking and Drugs (BADD). In January of that year the group put together a short skit and presentation on drugs and alcohol. One day we went to some elementary and junior high schools in south Davis County and put on our show.

Not long after that the group went down to Timpview High School, in Utah County, and put on our show for a small group. In the skit I played the authoritative father who chews out his son for using drugs. “What in the Sam Hill is going on here” I would shout. “If you want to use drugs it won’t be in my house!”  It was a lot of fun to go to the schools and put on that skit, and the Timpview High road trip was a good memory.

I met some new friends in BADD and got to know some others a little bit better. These friends gave me something to look forward to each day.  My confidence was growing and even my grades started improving. I wrote in my journal that I was trying to be less dependent on whether girls liked me or not; I also wrote that I now had plenty of friends and that seemed to be enough. As it would turn out, the friends I had made so far were just the beginning.

In still another journal entry, I wrote that I had watched as some of my new friends talked to people I could only dream about being friends with.  Some events in the spring of my sophomore year would demonstrate that some dreams do come true.

One day, during my lunch hour, I was sitting in the foyer looking at some photographs and negatives – each year during high school I took photography classes.  A girl approached me and asked if she could look at the pictures.  I said sure and she asked if I had taken them.  When I said yes, she said that I was a good photographer.

I might have been too stunned at the fact she was talking to me to really appreciate the compliment.  Stephanie introduced herself, but I already knew who she was, because that year she had been on the cheer leading squad and just a few weeks before she had won an election to become a student body officer.

Not long after that, again during my lunch hour, Stephanie came by and asked me about the book I was reading.  She didn’t seem to mind that it was a book about World War II.  Like the first encounter, I was struck by how odd it seemed that she was talking to me.

As someone who had felt like an outcast for several years, I couldn’t imagine someone like Stephanie being my friend.  But, as I would quickly learn, she was not the kind of person to fit a stereotype like being too popular to be friends with, well, a much less popular person.  Stephanie continued to say "hi" to me throughout the rest of the school year, and by now I had gotten to the point where I could say hi back, and even have a short conversation.

There was another girl, Sally, that I became friends with that year.  We met on the first day of the school year when we interviewed each other in a getting-to-know-you activity in a class we shared; after the interview we then introduced each other to the rest of the class.  Sally was also a member of BADD, and had been on that road trip to Timpview High.

Perhaps the most important person I met, however, was Mary, the girl who sat behind me in my second semester seminary class.  Mary was a very pretty brunette, with a sweet personality to match.  As winter turned into spring, and as my hoped for relationship with Julie went nowhere, my interest in the angel who sat behind me in seminary grew.  While she may not have led me to say "Julie who?" she did give me reason to think that there could be someone other than Julie in my life.

But this time I was going to do it right, whatever that meant.  Having felt a little burned by Julie, I certainly wanted to be more careful with Mary.  I was going to try and build a good, solid friendship before I asked this sweet angel out on a date.

Julie and I had danced together at occasional stake dances, and seeing her everyday in the first few months of my sophomore year was exhilarating, but I don't know that we were really friends before I asked her to the prom.  With Mary, I decided, it would be different.

To build that friendship with Mary I concluded that I would need to take the initiative.  When the new school year started the next fall, I would be the first to say "hello" when I saw her in the halls.  Of course, if I was going to do that with Mary, I might as well do it with all of the friends I had made during my sophomore year.

Stephanie, and also Sally, gave me a great gift.  By reaching out to me the way she did, Stephanie gave me the courage to take the initiative.  Sally was always encouraging, telling me that I had a lot going for me.  Stephanie said I was a very kind person, which she considered to be a great talent, and Sally said that I should never fail to develop my talents.

The first opportunity for taking the initiative came on the last Saturday of the summer.  The junior class had a party, and there I ran into Sally.  We had a brief conversation, and the confidence I had in my plan to take the initiative grew.

During the first few weeks of the new school year, I was the first to smile and say "hi" when I saw my friends.  A lot had happened over the summer break, and I wanted to make sure that they had not forgotten about me.

Stephanie remembered everything but my name when I asked her to dance at the first stomp (informal dance) of the year.  Each friend I said "hi" to responded favorably, and then I started making new friends, which gave me more people to take the initiative with.  As the saying goes, the Lord helps those who helps themselves.  What happened next was more than I could ever have imagined.

As I sat watching the football game on the third Friday of the year, Jamie, who I had also met the previous year in one of my classes, came over and invited me to sit with her friends.  I accepted and spent the rest of the game sitting with Jamie and her friends.  Jamie was a junior class officer, and her invitation sparked a series of events that would change everything.

The next week, once more during my lunch hour, another junior class officer approached me to introduce himself.  John also invited me to join something called the junior committee.  I accepted this invitation, which gave me the opportunity of meeting even more people.  Naturally, that gave me even more friends to take the initiative with.

Meanwhile, each time I saw Mary in the halls, I gave her a smile and said "hello."  Each time, she responded with a smile that could melt my heart.  By late December I thought I was ready to ask her out, so I decided to ask her to . . . the Junior Prom.  I also wanted to make sure that I was the first boy to ask her to the dance, so I asked her during the Christmas break, or, in others words, way too early.  As a result I would have to wait a long time for her answer.

Accentuate the Positive

On a number of occasions, President Gordon B. Hinckley counseled us to "accentuate the positive":

"I come to you tonight with a plea that we stop seeking out the storms and enjoy more fully the sunlight. I am suggesting that as we go through life we try to 'accentuate the positive.' I am asking that we look a little deeper for the good, that we still our voices of insult and sarcasm, that we more generously compliment virtue and effort."

-- Be Not Afraid, Only Believe, CES Fireside for Young Adults, September 9, 2001. 
-- Let Not Your Heart be Troubled, an address at BYU, October 29, 1974.
-- "Words of the Prophet: The Spirit of Optimism" in The New Era, July 2001

“Don’t be gloomy. Do not dwell on unkind things. Stop seeking out the storms and enjoy more fully the sunlight. Even if you are not happy, put a smile on your face. ‘Accentuate the positive.’ Look a little deeper for the good. Go forward in life with a twinkle in your eye and a smile on your face, with great and strong purpose in your heart. Love life.”

-- I found this quoted in many places.  What I did not find was a reference to the original.

If I recall correctly, once, when giving this counsel, President Hinckley referred to the song of the same name.  It's a good song, with a snappy tune.  According to Wiki, "The music was written by Harold Arlen and the lyrics by Johnny Mercer, and it was published in 1944. It is sung in the style of a sermon, and explains that accentuating the positive is key to happiness. In describing his inspiration for the lyric, Mercer told the Pop Chronicles radio documentary 'I went to hear Father Divine and he had a sermon and his subject was "you got to accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative." And I said 'Wow, that's a colorful phrase!' 

"Mercer recorded the song, with The Pied Pipers and Paul Weston's orchestra, on October 4, 1944, and it was released by Capitol Records as catalog number 180. The record first reached the Billboard magazine charts on January 4, 1945 and lasted 13 weeks on the chart, peaking at number 2."

Since then, the song has been recorded by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters, Kay Kyser, Dinah Washington and Lionel Hampton, Artie Shaw, Johnny Green, Connie Francis, Ella Fitzgerald, Perry Como, Aretha Franklin, Susannah McCorkle, Sam Cooke, Paul McCartney and many others.  The song has appeared in film and television: Here Come the Waves (1944), The Dean Martin Variety Show (1967), The Singing Detective (BBC, 1986), Bugsy (1991), The Mighty Ducks (1992).  The song was used as the theme song for the T.V. series Homefront (1991-1993), which was set in the years following World War II.

Here is a video with the recording by Mercer and the Pied Pipers:

These are the lyrics:

Gather 'round me, everybody
Gather 'round me while I'm preachin'
Feel a sermon comin' on me
The topic will be sin and that's what I'm ag'in'
If you wanna hear my story
The settle back and just sit tight
While I start reviewin'
The attitude of doin' right

You've got to accentuate the positive
Eliminate the negative
And latch on to the affirmative
Don't mess with Mister In-Between

You've got to spread joy up to the maximum
Bring gloom down to the minimum
Have faith or pandemonium's
Liable to walk upon the scene

To illustrate my last remark
Jonah in the whale, Noah in the ark
What did they do just when everything looked so dark?

(Man, they said "We'd better accentuate the positive")
("Eliminate the negative")
("And latch on to the affirmative")
Don't mess with Mister In-Between (No!)
Don't mess with Mister In-Between

(Ya got to spread joy up to the maximum)
(Bring gloom down to the minimum)
(Have faith or pandemonium's)
(Liable to walk upon the scene)

You got to ac (yes, yes) -cent-tchu-ate the positive
Eliminate (yes, yes) the negative
And latch (yes, yes) on to the affirmative
Don't mess with Mister In-Between
No, don't mess with Mister In-Between

For the past few years I have made this my theme song.  I have found that singing the lyrics has made it easier to take President Hinckley's counsel to "accentuate the positive."  Don't mess with mister in-between.

Lost Friends

You can find some interesting things on social media, things you were not looking for, but things which resonate with you anyway.  Last night I encountered something written by someone who, for seemingly inexplicable reasons, had lost their best friend.  It resonated with me because I have lost friends throughout my life.

When I was in the fifth grade, my best and only friend dumped me on the playground at school.  I was chasing after him and some other kids when suddenly he turned around and shouted "Can't you take a hint?"  I was blindsided.  I thought we were playing a game -- an odd game, perhaps, but a game nonetheless.

Not only did I not understand that he was trying to get away from me, I could not figure out why he would want to.  Some time after that, I watched as my former best friend listened with rapt attention as another boy told a story about something he did with his family.  It dawned on me then that he might have dumped me because I was boring.  I never received any other explanations.

In high school I fell for a girl that had been a friend.  She had been nice to me when few others were.  But she did not fall for me, and after we went on a date she seemed to be less friendly.  Eventually she tired of me and refused to be a friend.

Losing a friend is always difficult.  At least, losing a friend has always been difficult for me.  It was difficult in the fifth grade.  It was difficult in high school and never stopped being difficult until the day she moved out of state.  It was difficult in college when, for a few months, the girl I would eventually marry refused to be a friend.  So it is no surprise that I have found it difficult in more recent years when another friend has, without explanation, cut me out of their life.

I will not describe this person as my best friend, though they were among a small group of friends that were very important to me in high school.  After years of having few friends, at the beginning of my junior year I was suddenly making friends left and right.  I had entered the school year wanting to be more outgoing, and my small efforts paid huge dividends.  It was wonderful, and yet, I could not fully trust it.  Nor could I fully understand it.

Part of the problem is that, while I could overcome shyness, I could not completely change my quiet personality.  At first I was happy to bask in the light of my new friends, but the day would come when that was no longer enough.  I knew that I needed my friends but I found myself wondering if they needed me.

Because of all those years when friends were few and far between, I told myself that I did not have the opportunity to learn important social skills.  Feeling backward, I began to wonder just what friendship really was.

One of my new friends must have noticed my doubts.  "You want so much to be accepted," this friend said one day, 'and you are!"  On another occasion, this friend would tell me that the evidences of friendship that I perceived were true.  But the thing I remember most is when this individual advised me that we all have down times, and we all have moments when we feel inadequate, but we are the master of our own soul and we have the capacity to choose how we feel; we should choose to feel good and happy rather than down and depressed.

These are things that I have treasured, and because of them it is all the more inexplicable that the person who said them to me now refuses to be my friend.

High school ended and we all moved on with our lives, it is part of growing up.  But social media has given me the opportunity of connecting with old friends.  Social media also gave me the opportunity of being blocked by an old friend.

I was blindsided again when I realized that this old friend had blocked me.  Like I did on that playground so many years ago, I wondered why.  I questioned if it was all my fault, I blamed myself.  I tried to think of everything I could possibly have done, and I wrote a letter of apology for all them.  But all I received was silence.  I sought out an intermediary and finally received a response; essentially it was "You are forgiven. I don't want to open any doors of friendship. I want you to move on."

Move on from what?  And, frankly, being cut out like this did not feel like forgiveness.

That was four years ago and moving on has been difficult.  I can still question if it was my fault.  I can still blame myself.  I can be nostalgic.  I can still treasure those things my friend said to me.  I can also get angry and wonder how this friend could have left me twisting in the wind.

I cannot devalue the friendship or the memories.  I cannot take anything away from the friendship or act as if it never happened.  Strangely, I cannot be bitter; I cannot think or say bad things about my old friend.  I have wondered sometimes if it would help to have some nasty thoughts, but I have rejected the idea as it is not a road I want to go down.  It would be beneath both of us to hold on to anger.

But still I wonder.  What was it that led this person to let go?  Was it as difficult for them as it was for me?  Did it hurt them as much as it hurt me?  Am I missed as much as they are?

I doubt this person will ever see this, but if they do:

Thank you for being there on some of those occasions when I needed a friend.  Thank you for helping me break out of my shell.  Please know that I still treasure your advice, I have even shared some of it in this blog of mine.   Our friendship meant a lot to me.  Our friendship was unique, just as my friendships are and have been with each of my other friends.  Walking away at your request was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.  I will never understand your reasoning for letting go, but I don’t think you are a bad person. I want you to be happy, but I miss you.

I am worried, too.  Our high school reunion is just a few months away.  I don't know how I will react when I see you.  I don't know how you will want me to react.  Will you want me to approach you or to avoid you?  I don't know how you will react.  Will you turn the other way or will you smile?

Frankly, if it were possible, I would prefer to get that awkward moment out of the way before the reunion.  Whatever you desire, I will respect it.

-----

Update (August 13. 2017): 

Our high school reunion was last night, held at the school, in the expanding cafeteria.  I saw my old friend, and, during the first half of the evening, I kept my distance.  Then she was gone, and I was left trying to process an evening that felt inconclusive.

But later, my old friend reappeared, and I started debating what I should do.  I could not simply walk up to her, but I could not just leave.  I wandered around the school cafeteria, telling myself how stupid I was being.

Twice I prepared to leave, only to stop and walk back into the cafeteria.  I found a group of friends standing near my old friend, and joined their conversation.  I was pushing it as much as I dared.

Finally, she saw me.  We looked at each other for a moment, and then she turned and walked away.  I turned away, as well, and started for the door.

So much seemed suddenly clear; cutting me out of her life was not just some social media thing.  It was not a matter of trying to have boundaries. In a setting where she could be friendly with everyone else, she could not be friendly with me.

I still do not know what I did, or why all of this has happened.  But it is clear that little has changed in the last four years.

-----

Update II (August 17, 2017):

I have heard through a mutual friend that my old friend has no hard feelings toward me and that everything is good.  She was grateful that we could both be at the reunion without any awkwardness.  Everything is moving in the right direction.  I am finally at peace.  All is well.

An Extra Mile

"Thank you for calling [company name and project redacted], my name is Doug. How can I help you today."

"I talked to you before," said the caller, "and you got my order wrong!"

That is how one of my calls last week started.  While my first reaction was to deny that I had made a mistake, I didn't say that.  Frankly, I am not perfect, and while I think I do a good job most of the time, I have made mistakes.  So, it was at least possible that I could have gotten this caller's order wrong.

I got the caller's account information and checked his history.  As it turned out, I had not spoken with this customer before.  As I researched the issue, I found it was another agent who had taken his call.  I was relieved, but tried not to show it.

The caller stated that he ordered a particular item and received a different item instead.  He ordered a quantity of 5 the item, but received a quantity of 7 of the wrong item.  That was a curious discrepancy as it is one thing to get the item wrong, but the get the quantity wrong as well is something else.

Further, the two items in question are so different from one another, belonging in very different categories of products.  At first I just could not see how the agent he talked to made the mistake.  Then it dawned on me, and it was so simple it was no wonder that I almost missed it.

The product code of the item the customer did receive rhymed with the name of the product that he said he ordered.  Still, there is a procedure in place to prevent such a simple mistake.  Before placing the order the agent is supposed to recap what was ordered, by product code, product name and the quantity.  Had the agent done this, the customer would have recognized that the agent had selected the wrong product.

But this was only the beginning.  After receiving the wrong product, the customer had called back.  The agent he talked to on that occasion had merely forwarded a request to the escalation team to have the correct item sent.  The escalation team subsequently noted on the customer's account that this would require the approval of a supervisor for a one time courtesy to have the correct item sent.

Wait, a one time courtesy, when it was a mistake made by our agent, and thus by the company?  It if was our mistake, should we not fix it without using the customer's sole one time courtesy?  But how was the escalation team to know who made the mistake?

Enter the author.  There was an option that it appeared the second agent had not thought to do.  However, the opening accusation from the customer that it had been me that he had talked to and that I had messed up his order still stung a little.  On top of that, by the time I had figured out what had likely gone wrong, it was several minutes after my shift was supposed to have ended.  There was a temptation to hurry up and end the call so I could go home.

Unable to find out whether the approval of the one time courtesy had been made and a new order placed, my first thought was to send it back to the escalation team.  But I was sure that the likely outcome would be a repeat of what happened the first time the issue was sent to the escalation team.

But what other options did I have?  As I wrote the the email I was going to send to the escalation team, another possibility occurred me.  But I hesitated.  The other possibility would have involved talking to a supervisor, which would have taken time, and kept me longer after my shift was supposed to have ended.  Why should I, I thought, after the caller accused me to messing up his order?

In the end, I just couldn't take the easy route, I couldn't pass the buck.  Instead of sending an email to the escalation team, I sent one to my supervisor.  I asked my sup to pull the call and listen to see if it was the agent who made the mistake.  I saved the email to the escalation team as a draft, so I could send it if my supervisor was able to pull the call and listen to it.  I advised the customer that we would pull the call and if it could be determined that the agent who took the order had made the mistake, that we would send him the correct item.

The next day, a SME let me know that the call had been pulled and that the agent who took the order had indeed made the mistake.  Because of that, the customer was going to be taken care of.

Looking back, it seems such a small thing to email my supervisor and ask her to pull the call.  But in the moment I had hesitated, tempted to take the easy route.  Then I thought of the teachings of the Savior in the Sermon on the Mount:

"Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth: But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.  And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.  And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain.  Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away" (Matthew 5:38-42).

Addicted to Love?

Let me begin this post with a startling confession: I sometimes feel like I am addicted to love.  Now, I am not continually starting new relationships in order to feel the high of falling in love, only to turn around and destroy the relationship in order to free myself so that I can start another one.  I think it would be more accurate to say that I am often craving love and feeling that I am not getting enough of it. For most of my life I have simply wanted to be loved by someone, only to feel frustration that I am not feeling loved.

I should say that this is not because there has not been anyone to give me love.  Rather, the issue seems to be with myself as I think I have a hard time receiving what love has been given.  As an example, I crave compliments, yet when they are given I find myself not believing them and in some cases even deflecting them.

When I was a child I felt that I did not belong any where, that I was an outcast at school, at church, and even at home.  An old friend once observed that is was clear that I had not received enough love as a child.  My younger brother was born exactly one year and one week after I was, and my mother more than once expressed guilt at not being able to give me the attention I needed.

Outside of the home, I experienced bullying and only a little friendship.  The kids made fun of me at school, at church and in my neighborhood.  My best friend dumped me in the fifth grade.  Later, in high school, I did make a lot of friends, but I was never really sure just how I fit in with them.  One of my biggest fears is that none of it was real.

As for the opposite sex, I had my first crush on a girl when I was in the first grade and my second crush in the fourth grade, but those were innocent and childish.  That changed in junior high when some girls played a joke on me by writing me love notes.  I was pretty sure the girl who supposedly signed the notes did not actually like me, nonetheless, I found myself fantasizing about dating her, and at least some of my fantasies were not so innocent.

Then I fell for the one girl who had been genuinely nice and friendly to me, and I wanted her to like me as much as I liked her.  I took her to the junior prom on my first ever date with a girl, but it seemed that my love would be unrequited.  Then I met another girl, a sweet angel, and started falling for her.  But this time I wanted to be more careful, and decided to try and build a good friendship with her before asking her out.  But the school year ended and that was put on hold.

There was, then, another girl, with whom I had a "summer fling" between my sophomore and junior years.  I did some things that summer that I am not very proud of.

I met Katherine, and other new friends, in a group I joined during the school year called Braves Against Drinking and Drugs.  The group went around to some other schools making a presentation meant to discourage alcohol and drug use.  We put on a skit where I played the authoritarian father who lectures his son about using drugs.

During the state basketball tournament, I would go to one of the games with Katherine and her friend.  They were surprised when I was not so shy and retiring as I cheered on the Braves -- and yelling at the referees for a bad call.  On the last day of school, when we had finished signing yearbooks, Katherine and her friend came by my house to hang out for awhile.  One of the things I remember talking about was an idea for a novel I was writing -- one of many started and never finished -- and I even showed them the first chapter.

A few weeks later I asked Katherine out on a proper date and took her to see a movie.  After the movie we went for ice cream sundaes; she seemed to be having a good time.  But then I did something I am not proud of; I drove up into the hills and found a place to park.  I asked her if she wanted to make out, something I would never have thought to do with any other girl.  Thankfully, she said that she did not love me enough to do that.

She must have liked me, though, because she said yes when I asked her out a second time.  I took her swimming at the old indoor pool.  At one point we were playing basketball in the pool and I got a bit frisky.  In playing defense I got a little physical with her.  If any of my antics upset her, Katherine never said, and she said yes when I asked her out for a third and final date.  We played some board games at my house and watched a video.

Katherine was very smart, and a bit of a feminist.  I was taught to be a gentlemen, but she would object each time I would open a door for her.  "I can do it myself," she would say.

I think by the third date we saw that we didn't have that much in common.  Still, Katherine was the first girl I would date multiple times, and even after that summer she never seemed to mind spending time with me.  Maybe there was more there than I realized.  Could she have loved me more if we had continued dating?

But summer was ending, and I had just recently had an encounter with the girl I took to the prom, which gave me some encouragement that she might still like me.  With the school year about to start, there was another girl I wanted to build a friendship with.

Katherine and I remained friends, having a class or two in common over the next two years.  But in the spring of our senior year we had a few arguments.  We often ate lunch together and the differences between us, from music to marriage, led to some disagreements.  As I look back on it now, I feel that those debates could have been avoided if I had just minded my own business.  Instead, on a few things I really pushed my point of view, and in the end our friendship faded away.

Soon enough I would realize that it is a mistake to push your beliefs and ideas onto another person.  There needs to be a certain amount of live and let live.  It is one thing to share with those who are interested, but another to be zealous with those who are not.  And, frankly, not everything is our business.

I have not talked to Katherine since the summer after high school.  I should like to someday so that I could apologize to her for pushing my point of view as hard as I did.  There are some other things I should like to apologize for, things that I have not mentioned here.  At least some of the things I should like to apologize for I think I did because of how much I was craving love and affection.

Forgiving A Brutal Enemy / Pray for Peace

On April 18, 1942, then Lt. Colonel Jimmy Doolittle led sixteen B-25s in an attack on Tokyo and other Japanese cities.  The unique thing about this raid is that the bombers took off from the deck of an aircraft carrier.  "Doolittle and his raiders had accomplished the impossible," wrote James M. Scott in his 2015 book Target Tokyo, "taking off as such a great distance that most knew the chance of survival was slim at best, yet the airmen still managed to bomb Japan and escape.  That more were not captured or killed is miraculous, saved only by a tailwind that pilot Harold Watson later described as the 'hand of heaven.'"

Eight of the Doolittle Raiders were captured by the Japanese: Dean Hallmark, Bob Meder, Chase Nielsen (from Hyrum, Utah), Bill Farrow, Bob Hite, George Barr, Harold Spatz, and Jake DeShazer. Three of the raiders, Hallmark, Farrow and Spatz, were executed by the Japanese. Bob Meder would die of starvation during captivity, and George Barr was so close to death when he was liberated that his mental and physical recovery would take two years.

After Meder's death, Hite wrote the governor of the prison protesting the treatment of the prisoners.  Hite then asked "will you please give us the Holy Bible to read?"  Meder's death must have caused the Japanese some trouble because changes were made, among them that the prisoners were allowed to share a few English books, including the Bible.

"It was the first time that I had ever -- and I think any of us -- the first time any of us had really read the Bible from cover to cover," said Hite. "I was sort of like a man being in the desert and finding a cool pool." Hite went on to say, "Instead of hating the enemy that we had such hate for, we began to feel sorry for them. . . . It was almost a miracle to realize the sort of thing that happened to us . . . we were no longer afraid to the extent that we had been . . . we no longer had the hatred."

"We thought a lot about religion," said Barr.  "When you're in tough straits God is the only one you can rely on."

"Faith kept me alive," agreed Nielsen.  "Faith in my nation.  My religion.  My creator."

Jake DeShazer's story would be the most remarkable.  One day he was cleaning his cell when a guard looked in and yelled "Hayaku!" (hurry up). DaShazer responded by telling the guard to "Go jump in a lake." The next thing he knew, DeShazer was knocked on the head by the guard's fist. The Raider kicked the guard in the stomach, and the guard hit back with the steel scabbard for his sword. Jake then threw some dirty mop water at the guard, which had the affect of cooling the guard off. Still, DeShazer was surprised that the guard had not cut his head off.

After the incident with the guard, DeShazer, who described himself as an agnostic, turned to the Bible and the experience would end up turning his life upside-down.  Jake felt that he needed some sign of God's existence, and as he read the Bible he felt that God was indeed present, reaching out for someone so abandoned, mistreated and hopeless as he was.  When he read for a second time Romans 10:9 "That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved" Jake started praying. "Lord, though I am far from home and though I am in prison, I must have forgiveness."

As he continued to study the Bible and pray his heart was filled with joy. "I wouldn't have traded places with anyone at that time," he would later say. "Oh, what a great joy it was to know that I was saved, that God had forgiven me my sins." DeShazer went on to say that "Hunger, starvation, and a freezing prison cell no longer had horrors for me. They would only be for a passing moment. Even death could hold no threat when I knew that God had saved me. Death is just one more trial that I must go through before I can enjoy the pleasures of eternal life. There will be no pain, no suffering, no loneliness in heaven. Everything will be perfect with joy forever."

The more DeShazer read, the more he knew that he had to change. He especially loved reading 1 Corinthians 13:

"Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth. . . ."

DeShazer felt that his sins had been forgiven through Jesus Christ, and that he, too, would have to forgive.  He had another run in with a guard one day.  The impatient guard slapped Jake on the back, yelling "Hayaku, hayaku!", shoving him into his cell and slamming the door on his bare heel.  The guard kicked his foot until DeShazer was able to free himself.  "The pain in my foot was severe, and I thought some bones were broken. But as I sat on my stool in great pain, I felt as if God was testing me somehow."

DeShazer was tempted to take revenge the next day when the guard came on duty, but instead he called out "Ohayo gozaimasu!" (good morning). This drew a strange look from the guard. The next day, however, Jake gave the same friendly greeting to the guard. This went on morning after morning until the guard came over and spoke to the Raider. Jake, using what little Japanese he had managed to pick up while a prisoner, asked the guard about his family.

Not long after this conversation, Jake saw the guard pacing with his head bowed and hands folded in prayer. The guard explained that he was talking to his mother, who had died when he was a little boy. From that moment on the guard treated DeShazer well, never shouting at him and never beating him. "One morning he opened the slot [in the cell door] and handed in a boiled sweet potato," said Jake. "I was surprised, and thanked him profusely. Later he gave me some batter-fried fish and candy. I knew then that God's way will work if we really try, no matter what the circumstances." He concluded, "How easy it was to make a friend out of an enemy because I had just tried."

"I lived on hate for the first year," recalled Hite.  "I think we were able to kind of keep ourselves together living on hate, instead of laying down and giving up."  Reading the Bible, however, made a big difference.  "We decided that we had no hatred for the guards, vicious as they were," said Hite.  "They were ignorant and mean, but perhaps -- we thought -- there was some good in them.  The only way to develop goodness would be by understanding and education -- not by brutally mistreating them as they were doing to us."

Hite's health started to decline in the summer of 1944.  One day the pilot overheard Nielsen and DeShazer talking outside his cell.  "Hite won't be here tomorrow," said Nielsen.  "I don't think he can make it."

Hite was startled.  "I thought I was going to die," he would say later.  "I prayed to the Lord, told him I was willing to die if that's what he wanted, that mother was a widow and she might need me, but that I wasn't afraid to die and I was trusting in him.  It was the most amazing thing.  I started getting well right there."

The examples of DeShazer, Hite and Nielsen stand out to those who have suffered far less than they but who still struggle to forgive.

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"America's maritime offensive had reached a climax in the summer of 1944 with the capture of the Marianas, the ultimate prize of the Pacific," James Scott wrote.  The islands of Saipan, Tinian and Guam would be used as platforms for the bombardment of Japan.  "Day after day, week after week, B-29 Superfortresses darkened the skies over Japan by the hundreds," continued Scott.  "Bombers pounded Japan's major cities night after night in raids Doolittle could only have dreamed of years earlier when he throttled up his B-25s that rainy morning on the deck of the Hornet."

With more than 28,500 sorties, Superfortresses would drop almost 160,000 tons of bombs on more than 60 cities.  The results were devastating, with almost 158 square miles razed, including more than 50 square miles of Tokyo, 15 of Osaka, and 11 of Nagoya, while as many as 330,000 Japanese civilians were killed, 475,000 wounded and 8.5 million left homeless.  By the summer of 1945, Doolittle was moving his present command, the mighty U.S. Eighth Air Force, from England to the Pacific, and he predicted that "Japan eventually will be a nation without cities."

Then, on the morning of August 6, 1945, a lone B-29 took off from North Field on the island of Tinian.  Hours later, the Enola Gay, piloted by Colonel Paul W. Tibbets, would drop the atomic bomb known as "Little Boy" over the city of Hiroshima.  After the war, American investigators would estimate that the bomb, which leveled more than 4 square miles, had killed approximately 80,000 people, and injured another 100,000.  Three days later a second bomb, "Fat Man", would be dropped on Nagasaki, killing some 45,000 more people and injuring some 60,000.

On the morning of August 9, Jake DeShazer awoke in his prison cell in Peking, China.  Inside himself he heard a voice which urged him to pray.  "What shall I pray about," he asked.  The answer he received was to pray for peace.

Not knowing what was happening on that same day in Japan, or what had happened in the preceding days, DeShazer began to pray.  From seven in the morning until two in the afternoon, the young airman prayed that Japanese leaders would welcome peace and that the public would not be demoralized or taken advantage of in postwar Japan.  Then he heard the voice again, "You don't need to pray anymore," it said.  "Victory is won."

Within days, Japan would surrender unconditionally.  Emperor Hirohito decided that it was time to stop the suffering of his people.  Despite a coup attempt by hard-line Japanese army officers, the Emperor would give a radio announcement of the decision to surrender, and to bear the unbearable.  Within a matter of days, DeShazer and his fellow prisoners of war would be free.


Sources:

Nelson, C. (2002). The First Heroes: The Extraordinary Story of the Doolittle Raid -- America's First World War II Victory.  New York: The Viking Press

Scott, J. M. (2015). Target Tokyo: Jimmy Doolittle and the Raid the Avenged Pearl Harbor. New York: W. W. Norton & Company.