A few years ago, about a year after September 11th, I made a pilgrimage to the places of my birth and my mothers’ family’s birth. I traveled through Pennsylvania, Maryland, and West Virginia and ended in Virginia, birthplace of my fathers’ family in the United States. I took many pictures of the homes my family had lived in, needing to preserve them in a way that would withstand time and memory. The journey lasted two weeks, during which time I took over a hundred pictures and several video tapes. My trip began at my brothers’ home and ended at my parents’ home. My first stop was at a camping ground near Gettysburg, PA. My grandfather and step grandmother lived a few minutes from there. I arrived sooner than expected and decided to take the opportunity to visit the battlefield and memorial cemetery, camp the night, then go to my grandparents the following day as we had discussed. I had promised myself I would not be on a set schedule once I got ‘on the road’ but would instead take time to visit those places presented to me on the way. I was rewarded many times for this, the first being Gettysburg.

I had been to this site many years before with my parents. Then, I remembered going with my father around the battlefield and coming across a Union soldier reenactor. The reason I remember is that Dad told him he better be careful, he was on the wrong side of the field. I had been well prepared for the trip and, as usual, the lifeless pages of a history book came alive under the studied oratory of my father. In those days, as now, my father was a font of history and its wisdoms. He showed me the patterns of history, forever circular and forever changing. I never forget, as I watch and listen to the news, that we are history and our words and deeds will not be forgotten.

Going back many years later, I came across this battlefield as Gandhi had come across the Bhagvad Gita. This was a battlefield of the heart and soul, a place that had inspired Lincoln to rededicate his nation to the ideals of her founding. It was afternoon when I arrived and I spent the rest of it driving around to the various battle locations, ending at the national cemetery. Resting now, amid the sculptured landscape by William Saunders, are some 6000 ‘honored dead’ from the Civil through the Vietnam Wars. It is a peaceful place, some 140 years removed from its original purpose. As was custom, the war dead were buried where they fell, usually under a few feet of soil. The battle had taken place during the summer heat of July and shortly after its end, summer showers came. The few soldiers that had been buried in these hastily dug graves soon had the soil washed away, revealing their bodies again. Pennsylvania’s Governor Andrew Curtin commissioned David Wills, a local man, to purchase land for a proper burial ground for the Union dead. This would become 17 acres of sacred ground.

Lincoln was a ‘last minute’ addition to the consecration ceremony. The principal speaker, Edward Everett a renowned orator, had been invited several months before. Due to his busy schedule, the date for the ceremony was pushed back a month, to November 19th, 1863. Lincoln received his invitation on November 2nd and declared his intention to accept on November 10th, giving him a little over a week to prepare his ‘few appropriate remarks’ as requested in the invitation. Always one to take careful thought of his words, the President was no less cautious now. The ideas of the address had been germinating with Lincoln since the battle, if not before. 272 words, 10 lines; its brevity was breathtaking.

Fore score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Lincoln begins with what he knows. His was a self taught education and the books that he read were few. The works of Shakespeare, the Constitution and the Bible formed his nucleus. In this first sentence, we hear the influence of two of his sources, the Constitution and the Bible. Today, ‘Fore Score and seven’ might not be familiar, but Lincoln knew his audience. This phrase referenced biblical time and spoke to his listeners. It called upon them to confront the spiritual meaning of equality. And he spoke the words of a man stewarding his children. A new nation conceived and dedicated; these too, spoke to the deeper nature of our selves.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.

What is now forgotten is that the Civil War, as it came to be known, was a war between states. Northern states held firmly to the belief that the constitution was a contract acceded to by all states to form a union, indivisible. Southern states believed the constitution established certain responsibilities of the Federal Government, but left individual states to foster their own destiny, apart from other states. From Virginia to Georgia, each state was a ‘country’ unto itself. Each man on both sides and in his own heart, believed he was a patriot, upholding the founding fathers intentions. Each man decided, in his own heart, to put up his life as ransom for that belief.

We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

Lincoln would later write in his second inaugural, ‘Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; the other would accept war rather than let it perish.’ The genesis of that famous phrase is found here. Before he left on this journey to Gettysburg, the President went to Alexander Gardner, a photographer, to have his portrait done. Gardner had been to Gettysburg, had found the battlefield strewn with decaying corpses and taken pictures of the dead and dying. Certainly Lincoln must have seen these pictures. On the train ride north to Gettysburg, these images would be framing the Presidents’ state of mind. Certainly on the day of the address, the pictures would assume a three dimensional aspect.

But in a larger sense we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.

The letter inviting Lincoln to the dedication ceremony is condescending to these 21st century ears. He is invited, by the different States, ‘to be present’ and reminded it ‘will doubtless be very imposing and solemnly impressive’. After the oration, he is desired to ‘formally set apart these grounds to their Sacred use by a few appropriate remarks’. Lincoln answers this summons with a gentle admonishment yet strict attention to its order. No one who has lived in the shadow of the men and women who gave, and give, their lives to their ideals can consecrate the ground on which they walked.

The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

Upon returning to his seat, after giving this address, he would say to a friend ‘That speech won’t scour. It is a flat failure.’ The newspapers at the time were divided on the speech. Those tending to the Democrats would call the speech weak and silly. The Republican papers would enshrine it in the halls of literary genius. As I’ve said, history is a circle.

It is for us the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

All civil wars are family affairs. Sons and Daughters rebel against their parents. Brother will fight Brother, Granddaughter will fight Grandfather. It is the nature of growth to find its own way to the light of morality for each generation will have its own. Civil wars are also plateaus in the growth of a country. From civil wars we rededicate ourselves to our country’s values and principles. This war had been started upon the notion of states rights versus the federal unions’ rights. But in 1862, Lincoln had issued his Emancipation Proclamation. The people of the north felt betrayed. They had not sent their fathers, sons and husbands to abolish slavery. Lincoln knew he must set this battle within the framework of a higher cause. The rights granted by the Constitution was for all men. Lincoln knew this in the marrow of his bones. He sets up his call to arms…

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us – that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion, that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

I am reminded of Jesus’ message in Matthew 5:17 ‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.’ In that time, a cold civil war raged upon the Jews. Some spoke of bending to the will of the Roman occupier, some spoke of rebellion and war. Lincoln had drunk deeply of the history and wisdom of the bible; he knew Jesus had come as a lightening rod to the people of the bible, to spark a new light of peace and inclusion. Lincoln understood The United States stood at a similar crossroad. Having given birth to a noble cause, the country had fallen onto a path of compromise with evil. Slavery may have been blessed in the bible, but the morality of this particular institution had been found wanting. The great blessings of freedom and liberty had been denied to a people solely on account of the color of their skin. In 1858, Rev. Theodore Parker had defined democracy as ‘a government of all the people, by all the people, for all the people.’ Lincoln had circled this passage on his copy of this address. Before he took office he had known the great hope of America was to embrace all peoples, all faiths and forge them into a great plowshare, reaping the benefits of inclusion and diversity.

Lincoln called upon the America of his time to grow beyond its bindings of race. Looking out over the battlefield perhaps he glimpsed the future beyond. He would dedicate himself and his country to ‘finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds’. This task remains unfinished. We are called upon to grow beyond our own bindings. There are those who would continue to divide us, preaching a sermon of hate and bias. They would make war rather than let the nation survive. We must accept this war rather than let her perish. And, again, the war comes.

It seems so serene on this river. And yet around me burns a terrible fire.

Finally summer is beginning to force its way into the eternal winter that is Chicago. The birds wake me at 4am, the sun is still shining when I go to bed at 7pm. It’s not necessarily warmer, but the days are longer. The flowers have budded and been frosted over, it’s Chicago.

Oh, and the Cubs and Sox are playing baseball.

I love our national pastime. It gives me the opportunity to sing our national anthem. If I went to a game. I haven’t had a reason to sing the national anthem since I was in grade school. We teach our children the importance of honoring the flag and singing the national anthem, then we grow up and the only time we sing is at a baseball game.

Or Football. Or Basketball. Any sport, really.

We don’t sing the anthem on the 4th. We listen to the 1812 overture, which actually was written about the war between France and Russia. We watch fireworks, we eat hotdogs and drink beer. We drink LOTS of beer, we get drunk, we slap around the spouse and/or kids or we jump in a car and drive into a light pole.

We don’t sing the anthem at our jobs. We don’t open or close arts events with the anthem. Maybe in the privacy of our bedrooms we hum a bar or two, but that’s really about it. It’s a hard tune – I mean the spread of notes you have to hit is just stupid. And who remembers the words after all of these years? I can’t even remember what I did yesterday.

Actually, I love the anthem. I love the story behind the anthem, I love the flag that inspired it and I love the words.

Fort McHenry is where the story starts. This web site gives you a lot of information – read the Teachers Guide stuff, that’s really the meat. But it’s the words I want to talk about.

Oh say can you see, by the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?

Francis Scott key was a young lawyer living in Georgetown, a suburb of Washington DC. He had traveled to Baltimore on a mission of mercy to request the release of a friend of his by the British. After securing his release, the British transferred Key to an American Truce ship where he watched the 25 hour bombardment of the star shaped Fort McHenry.

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming!

The flag that flew o’re the ramparts was specially made by Mary Pickersgill, a well-known flagmaker in Baltimore. It would be the largest battle flag ever flown measuring 30 feet wide by 42 feet long. You can see it in the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History, Washington, D.C. It’s old and faded and it’s hard to imagine how it must have shown in the sunlight during the day. But you couldn’t miss it then

And the rockets's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there:

Key paced all day and night on the small truce ship. Every bomb bursting over the heads of the forts defenders must have felt like a small earthquake. The pounding was unmerciful – the British were convinced this would be an easy victory. Yet, the hours passed.

O say, does that Star - Spangled Banner yet wave
o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

After 25 hours, suddenly silence. The wind blew in off the water as the ship rocked gently under Key’s feet. Perhaps it took him a moment to realize what had happened. Silence. Terrible awful silence. The smoke, thick from 25 hours of bombing, began slowly to clear. Key looked to the fort, finally seeing the flag. Terrible, wonderful silence gave way to a deafening cheer from land and sea.

And Key began to write – there are three more stanza’s to the poem. And each stanza ends with the ever more demanding question

Does that sturdy flag, symbol of the lives given, the responsibilities taken, the freedom dearly won, wave over a people still willing to fight for those freedoms? Are we still brave enough to speak truth to power, to protect the weak, to give to those in need and to demand from those who would yet enslave us, and with our dying breath, the freedoms given by God to each human being?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the mornings' first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! O long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation
Then conquer we must when our cause it is just
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

I’ve spent the last 2 weeks at my computer diligently doing data entry. As those of us in the data business know, it’s a grueling part of the job. I’m not fond of data entry and I really get worked up at those companies that can’t get their act together and provide data in an electronic format compatible with…oh you get the idea. It’s going to be a long hot summer.

I’ve been working off spreadsheets; lists of people and their insurance information. Date of birth, social security number, address – all of the information that defines a person in this time of digital, computerized data bases. I know how old a person is, what life insurance amount he has, where he lives, who he’s married to. I know whether he’s carrying both medical and dental insurance in his retirement and who he’s covering. Most of the time, it’s just his spouse – I’d say about 99%. I’d say about 80% carry life insurance. All of this really fascinates me. I tend to make up stories about the people whose lives I’m entering into another data base. It’s a way to pass the time.

What I’ve been most fascinated with lately is names. This group I’m entering is retirees. I’ve noticed a lot of spiritual names – Faith, Hope, Grace. And I’m beginning to wonder at what moment in the lives of their parents they chose that name for their child. Names are powerful things. They are repositories of our ancestors’ dreams for the future. A mother to be looks out of her kitchen window; sees how the sun plays on the dew soaked grass and puts a hand to her belly, feeling the child within move. A moment of grace – a moment captured in a name. She looks ahead into a future darkly and for a moment blesses it with a child’s name.

I was born in 1959. That year the 10 most popular names for females were – Mary, Susan, Linda, Karen, Donna, Patricia, Debra, Cynthia, Deborah and Lisa. I didn’t even make the top 20 – Chrisanne wasn’t even in the top 1000 and the closest I come (Chris) is 224. The name Chris has been getting progressively less popular as time goes on – in 1977 it was 879th.

My mother was born in 1939. Mary was number one then, too! Next came Barbara, Patricia, Betty, Shirley, Carol, Nancy, Judith, Dorothy and finally Margaret. Moms’ name is Janice, which didn’t make the top 20 either – Janet came in at 17, but no Janice.

In 2004, the ten top female names are Emily, Emma, Madison, Olivia, Hannah, Abigail, Isabella, Ashley, Samantha and Elizabeth. These names seem familiar to me – aren’t they the sex and the city girls? Or from the West Wing? I suppose names have always been linked to the pop culture of their time. The arts have always supplied the names of a generation. So too does sports. And politics. The ethereal and changing aspect of what we value.

And yet, some buck against the trendy and give to their children something special, something that will be uniquely their own. I was sitting in my car yesterday waiting on a friend of mine and watching the passing of people in all of their diverse colors, creeds and gifts. Each has a name pregnant with possibilities; each blessed with a coat of many colors. Come in, I say. The water is fine.

My very good friend, Mitchell, and I were talking the other night about the blog of another good friend, Sheila. She has put out on her blog a list of her passions – what makes her a ‘geek’. I listened as Mitchell listed some of his passions and began to realize that I have very few. Alex. Family Stories. A perfectly arranged work space.

Okay, that last one? – I have a touch of OCD.

Oh, I get up in arms about stuff but I’ve learned that history will repeat itself, and if I think it’s bad now, then eventually, it will get better. And the better will be better than before. I have a certain cynical faith; a passion, if you will, about my fellow space travelers. Don’t tell anybody, but I believe in the human race. It’s hard to do that right now – even persons of religion say we are in the end times and fight a holy war against the nameless and faceless enemy. I wonder who they are fighting. But that’s just me.

Today, a miracle was announced to the world. If you were listening to NPR this morning or watching ABC news tonight, you heard the gospel. A bird, feared to be extinct for 60 years, has been sighted by Gene Sparkling, an amateur naturalist. ‘It was a spiritual experience’. The bird was nicknamed Lord God Bird because when people would see it they would say ‘Lord God, what a woodpecker’.

60 years ago WWII was capturing the headlines. A war that would introduce us to that awful word ‘Holocaust’ and identify an era as Nazi. 12 million people would die in horrible and brutal ways at the hands of their fellow countrymen. And a new invention would join with the guillotine but instead of thousands, the gas oven would murder millions.

And quietly, with no more than a final gasp, the Ivory Billed Woodpecker would cease its existence.

We’ve lost so much during our lives. Friends and family to the ravages of AIDS; whole tribes of American Indians; children who have immediate access to weapons; heart attacks, cigarettes, drive-by shootings, drugs, famine, war, faith.

And now a grand, beautiful bird reappears. A wing span of 3 feet and standing 20 inches tall, black and white with distinctive white wing patches. The male has a red crest, announcing his royalty. He is a shy and allusive herald – a holy grail sought after by the faithful for years. I remember as a young child I painted a plastic model of one given to me by my grandfather. I didn’t know then they were extinct. I didn’t know what I held in my small hand but I am remembering now how careful I was to paint the bird exactly as it should be. The model was rough giving it a final natural texture. I was proud of my handiwork – so was my grandfather. I am thankful for the faithful. They have found a memory of mine.

Carter Roberts, president and CEO – elect of World Wildlife Fund said ‘Nature gives very few second chances’.

Indeed.

First of all, thank you for your responses of encouragement. That was pretty cool to get feedback so keep it coming! I don't usually go in for the 'soapbox' thing, but I like this - its give and take and potential for communicating. Okay, so this is cool and I'm going to give it another whirl.

As I'm sure most of you know, Alex and I are attempting a long distance marriage. I'm not happy about it, neither is she. Even with the modern conveniences of telephone and email, there's no substitute for having the love of your life physically next to you at night. I haven't been sleeping well and so I've been waking up later than usual.

Usual is 4am. Now, I'm sleeping till 4:30! You have no idea how bad traffic can get between 5 and 5:30!

The news kicks in about 4:30 too. I have to say, one of two things I'm enjoying about Alex not being here is I get to turn up the TV and turn on the lights when I get ready in the morning. It's never been a big deal, but right now it's a plus. I can't remember the other thing I enjoy.

So, I'm listening to the news a lot. The big three and cable (sans Fox). I switch back and forth but usually end up on CBS. And I've been hearing about the new Pope (of course), and the eminent demise of the filibuster. On NPR I get some more items of interest on my way into work. The Terry Shivo case has quietly died down and other 'news' items have taken its place.

All well and good. I was thinking about our taxes and how much goes where and thought 'that might be a good blog thing to do'. So I started doing my research thing on the issue of taxes; which is where the news comes back in -

I'm sitting in 5:30am traffic, which is a lot worse than 5am traffic, listening to NPR discuss Tom Delay's attack on the Judiciary. I've been following this pretty closely - it's kind of scary. Judge A. Scalia weighs in on the subject, backing Mr. Delay and now I'm really scared. Let me quote something here:

'Well the House of Representatives has taken on judicial activism for two years. We passed six bills limiting their jurisdiction, we've looked at their make-up of their courts, we've taken on the responsibility for being the checks and balances on an over-active out-of-control judiciary. And in this particular case the judiciary was given an opportunity, the same opportunity given to death-row inmates, to have one more court look at this and rather than look at process look at all the evidence anew. They chose not to do that, they thumbed their nose at Congress and the Executive branch, and we need to take a hard look at that'

And another quote:

'I do expect one thing: that the nation gives me the right to intervene immediately and to take action myself whenever a person has failed to render unqualified obedience...I have the legal right to keep everybody to his duty and to cashier or remove from office or position with regard for his person or his established rights, whoever, in my view and according to my considered opinion, has failed to do his duty...From now on, I shall intervene in these cases and remove from office those judges who evidently do not understand the demand of the hour.'

The first quote is from Tom Delay. The second quote came from Adolf Hitler.

I wonder why the German judges caved in so quickly to the Nazi movement. I wonder why our liberal news media has not pursued this story. I wonder why Americans are not up in arms over this attack on our sacred governmental institutions. I wonder why no one remembers when the Republicans filibustered Clinton’s judiciary nominations. I wonder why a member of the Supreme Court is facilitating his own obsolescence.

One final quote: From Richard A. Posner, federal court of appeals judge. In the New Republic, he writes:

‘[The story of the German judges] can in any event help us to see that judges should not be eager enlisters in popular movements of the day, or allow themselves to become so immersed in a professional culture that they are oblivious to the human consequences of their decisions.’

It seems I’ve come to a fork in the river; wonder where this stream will lead…

I have to say, first off, that a blank page is very intimidating. My wife has been after me to start a blog and, for a variety of reasons, I've been resisting the suggestion. I'm not a diarist, writing down the most intimate details of my life because, quite frankly, it's none of anybody's damn business. Nor am I interested in the intimate details of my friends, much less people I don't know. I'm not a fan of the group therapy sessions found on Dr. Phil. I grew up with the middle American notion that family laundry, clean or dirty, just wasn't all that fascinating to people outside of the family.

So, if any of you reading this are expecting to find out details of my sex life or preference, turn back now, that river is dried up.

But the real reason I've been avoiding this is the whole blank page thing. While Alex may find what I have to say fascinating, I'm just not sure other people will. Alex is my wife; she's supposed to find me fascinating. That's why we're married. She's the most fascinating person I know. She tells me I'm the most fascinating person she knows. We're supposed to do that - it's in our marriage contract.

But recently I've begun talking out loud in the car; talking back to NPR commentators or mumbling under my breath at the news (MSNBC usually). I'm not mad as hell, anymore. I'm just surprised (?!) at the number of my fellow Americans who have lost their minds. Really. I get all teary eyed when the Flag is raised and the band strikes up the Star Spangled Banner. It sends chills down my spine when I think about the bravery of the solders of Fort McHenry and a lone American standing on the decks of a British warship writing out the question, not just of that time, but of all time.

If you can't remember look it up - come's right at the end of the song.

So I begin to notice about 2 months ago the name of Terry Shivo. And in the same breath, the commentator mentions marriage and right to life. Okay, I say, what new 15 minutes of famer do we have tonight - and slowly over the next few weeks I hear a little about the incredible story of Ms. Shivo. I say a little, because in the sounds bites from her family, friends and 15 minutes of famer groupies, we 'the public' will never, ever know the full story. Ms. Shivo was never able to speak her piece. Or peace.

And suddenly, the talk turns to public interference in a family affair. Right to Lifers (someday someone's going to turn that phrase into Write to Lifers) answer Ms. Shivo's parents' plea to save their daughter's life. Congress gets involved, tells the court they have to review this case for the nth time, and talk begins to circulate about the husband, his infidelities and other tawdry linens.

I would have lost interest, except for the fact that the people standing outside of the hospice trying to give Ms. Shivo 'symbolic' water (what exactly does that mean?) are the same people who have been telling my wife and I we can't get married because it says so in the Bible.

Huh.

So I pull out my trusty Family Worship Bible, given to me by my mother one Christmas, holding the family dates of births and deaths, our family tree information, and when Alex and I became a family, and I begin to review what it says about Marriage and what happens when a woman leaves her home and marries a man.

In Genesis 2:23-24, the Lord fashions a woman from a man's rib, making her flesh of his flesh and thus defining marriage when a man will leave his father and mother and be as of one flesh with his wife. Pretty early in the divine literature God emphasizes the importance of family by defining how one is made.
Man and woman leave the homes of their parents and bond together to create one flesh - a new family that will provide shelter and sustenance in both good and bad times. In Leviticus and Deuteronomy we get rules and regulations regarding marriage; who could marry who, the rituals surrounding the wedding, when a marriage could be ended and by whom, etc. This is all very male centric stuff reflecting the society these books were written in and about. I'm sure these rules made sense then. Some of them, not so much now.

The New Testament is harsh. Matthew 19:3-11 (read the WHOLE thing, even 11) talks about marriage and divorce. Jesus doesn't permit divorce, except for marital unfaithfulness and marrying another woman. What God has joined together, no one is permitted to separate. But only in this world, for marriage is only for this world. Mark 12:25 says when the dead rise, they will neither marry nor be given in marriage. Paul, in his 1st letter to the Corinthian Christians really doesn't want anyone to marry, but if you must, then do it and don't get divorced (1Corinthians 7:1-7). He does, however, have some wonderful things to say about love later in the letter. But I digress.

Okay - so what I remember from my childhood teachings at St. Stephens proves to be true - once two people commit to marry one another, that's it. They leave their parents and go and create their own family. I believe in that and when I stood up in front of a hundred of our friends and my mother, father and brother and said I would stand by this person and be joined to her in marriage, the bond of a child to a parent was severed and I became one flesh with Alex. I love my parents as one adult to another, but I cleave to my wife.

I am in awe of Mr. Shivo. He could have taken the easy way out, divorced his wife and forgotten his marriage vows. He believes in the contract we make to our spouses and is an example to all of us of family values. He fought her parents, church and state to fulfill his promise to his wife. The bonds of marriage are made of silk in these days. Perhaps rightly so; I would never ask my divorced friends to 'stick it out'. Mainly because all of us may be asked one day to make the decision Mr. Shivo was asked to make by his wife. That decision must be made out of love. Mr. Shivo loved his wife enough to stand as her shield for many years. He must be battered and bruised by now, but never doubt he loved Ms. Shivo. Never doubt he understood he was of one flesh with his wife and that a part of him died the day she did.

And never doubt that I will laugh as an adult might laugh at a child's antics the next time someone curses my marriage because they believe God curses it. I will know they have a child's understanding of marriage. I will pray they will grow into an adult understanding of it.

So, here I am, goin upstream, as usual. It's a fine ride, a beautiful life. And I share it with the most interesting person I know - what's not to love about that?