Remembering a 9/11 hero eight years later;
Gridiron Glory

Let’s Roll!
Remembering a 9/11 hero eight years later

Eight years ago hate left its mark
in New York and D.C.
But don’t forget the ones who died
aboard Flight 93.

Eight years ago one said, “Let’s roll!
Let’s take those terrorists down,”
although he knew his hijacked jet
would plummet to the ground.

A pregnant wife, two little boys,
his loving mom and dad.
He pondered leaving them alone,
afraid, distraught and sad.

But enter Todd the patriot
who knew what must be done.
He wanted to bequeath the hope
of freedom for his sons.

Todd Beamer’s faith helped him stay calm.
And with those other guys,
he led the charge that tackled hate
six miles in the sky.

So on this day when we recall
an act that changed our lives,
I’m grateful for the likes of Todd.
May we all be as wise.

* Todd Beamer was a thirty-three year old hero on United Flight #93 that crashed near Shanksville, PA on September 11, 2001. This young business executive, a graduate of Wheaton College, led an on-board rebellion against the terrorists that had hijacked the plane by calling out “Are you guys, ready? Let’s roll!” Check out http://www.lifeway.com/lwc/article_main_page/0,1703,A=150237&M=50022,00.html

Gridiron Glory
Why collegeate football sacks the pros

Yes, it’s time again for football.
How I love this time of year.
Autumn leaves and caramel apples,
punt returns that prompt a cheer.

But, it’s college pigskin antics
that I’m passionate about.
Amateurs who play their hearts out
are my favorites without doubt.

See, the goal of college football
isn’t just a line of chalk.
It is building men through teamwork
through a game known for hard knocks.

College players feel allegiance
to their coach, their team and school.
Love of winning spawns their effort.
Pride in purpose in their fuel.

While the NFL boasts ratings,
college football takes the cake.
Since these players aren’t paid millions,
they give all for goodness’ sake.

An eighteen-year mystery has been solved;
Defining Labor Day;
A Labor of Love

The Lost Has Been Found!
An eighteen-year mystery has been solved For eighteen years they thought her deadand as they passed her empty bed,her mom and dad would visualizethe nightmare of that day. For eighteen years they hoped and prayedthat justice would at last be paid.That those who kidnapped one so lovedwould suffer for their crime. For eighteen years they tried in vainto keep their marriage free from blame.The stress that’s born of tragedywould shatter vows they made. But eighteen years have come and goneand now they’ve learned their little blondeis twenty-nine, the mom of twoand very much alive. Eighteen long years and no one knew.The case was closed. There were no clues.But just like that…. a miracle.Who says that prayer’s a waste? 
* On August 27, 2009 Jaycee Lee Dugard was found in Antioch, CA after having been kidnapped as an eleven year old in 1991. Amazingly, my family was living about five miles from where this young woman was kept in a maze of tents and shelters in the backyard of her abductor. We had no idea that such a horrid crime was being played out “in our backyard.” 

Defining Labor Day
Working at understanding this day-off

It’s a day devoid of labor
so that family, friends and neighbors
can enjoy an outdoor barbecue
of burgers, brats and beer.

It’s a day meant for thanks-giving
for the means to make a living
in an up-for-grabs economy
where unemployment’s high.

It’s a day for closing cabins
where our summer chillin’ happens
near the ocean, lake or mountains
or just where life’s simpler.

It’s a day when classroom teachers
contemplate what kind of creatures
will confront them as they stand before
those rows and rows of desks.

It’s a day to greet September
while we look back and remember
how much fun we had with those we love
before we had to part.

A Labor of Love
A tribute to America’s firefighters

We have heard of tragic wildfires.
We have heard of houses lost.
We have heard of those who dare the odds
to drown a living hell.

When the sky is black with clouds of smoke,
when the hills are orange with fire,
when the untamed flames break free and dance,
not all are spectators.

There are those whose job is saving lives.
There are those who feel the heat.
There are those who face what others flee
and fight it to the death.

What they do demands a hero’s heart.
What they fear is hard to say.
What they love is snuffing danger out.
They risk so we are safe.

Here’s to firefighters I have known.
Here’s to those who died too soon.
Here’s to those who live each day God gives
in love with what they do.

Reflections on a famous American landmark;
Profiles in Courage (and Humanity)

Facing America’s Moral Erosion
Reflections on a famous American landmark

George and Tom and Abe and Ted
look at us, though they are dead.
These Presidents carved into rock
must blush at what they see.

Gazing back towards our past,
these four heads of state en masse
warn us of erosive trends
that undermine our dreams.

They can see with eyes of stone
how we’ve reaped what we have sown,
how we’ve gained prosperity
while losing what meant more.

Gratefully, it’s not too late.
Our nation’s plight is not its fate.
If we repent and turn to God,
He’ll chisel down our flaws.

* While driving our daughter to college in Illinois last week, we stopped at Mt. Rushmore. Our minivan overheated in the visitor center parking lot and blew out the radiator. Our trip was delayed and our bank account drained while the vehicle was fixed in nearby Hill City, South Dakota. If you had seen a close-up view of Mt. Rushmore last week, you may have seen tears cascading down the Presidents’ faces as they looked upon our sad scenario.

Profiles in Courage (and Humanity)
Facing the four Kennedy brothers head-on

Four profiles in courage
now are carved on history’s hill.
Four sons of Joseph Kennedy
who had their father’s will.

Each willed to make their family proud
obeying duty’s call.
Each learned to pray the rosary
when they were three feet tall.

Each faced great fear, but didn’t blink
while looking to the left.
Each died much younger than was hoped
and left their clan bereft.

Each countenance has blemishes
betraying secret sins
and yet we chose to overlook
the clay-feet of these men.

Much like the Brits across the pond,
we want our royalty.
We crowned these four with grace to fail.
We hailed them constantly.

The Brothers K were hardly saints,
but in their fallen state
they served us most courageously
and made our nation great.

A tribute to Ted Kennedy: the prince who never would be king

The lion sleeps.
The den is dark.
The pride has lost its prince.
The liberal’s mane
(snow-white by age)
now frames a face that winced.

And though he dreamed
of being king,
he was a prince for life.
The missteps
that had marked his youth,
stole more than
just his wife.

A son of privilege,
Teddy grieved
his family’s endless pain.
The tragedies
that marked this clan
were equal
to their fame.

But Edward held
them in his arms.
He was their patriarch.
Though flawed
and scarred
by scandal’s wounds,
he had a lion’s heart.

But now that heart
is stilled by death,
the lion sleeps tonight.
And those who mourn
this Lion Prince,
aren’t labeled
left or right.

A road trip to college with daughter number three

There’s a trip I’ve just completed
with my daughter and my wife
that has driven me to ponder
major changes in my life.

It’s a trip that I have taken
twice before, but I confess
how I hate the destination.
It’s a parent thing, I guess.

Twas a journey to a dorm room
where I left my high school grad.
And though Wheaton College thrills me,
I am feeling kinda sad.

It was far more than the miles.
Countless memories sped by
as I found myself reliving
yesterdays that made me cry.

I can visualize my princess
with her binkie and her doll.
I can see her playing Barbies
in a corner of the hall.

I remember kindergarten
and that backpack big as she.
And that time (when on the playground)
she fell down and skinned her knee.

I can still recall her struggle
as she started middle school,
how she prayed she’d be accepted,
that the kids would think her cool.

I have memories of that summer
when her faith took root and grew
and the way she brought down Heaven
as into her flute she blew.

As we drove East from Seattle,
I thanked God for Lauren Star
and for what she’ll learn in college
that will help her to go far.

All too soon the trip was over
when we reached her college dorm.
But the memories kept coming
like those Midwest August storms.

And like raindrops in the summer,
those warm tears that stain my face
are reminders of life’s blessings
Father Time cannot erase.

* The above poem documents a four-day drive from Mercer Island, Washington to Wheaton, Illinois to deposit our third-born daughter at Wheaton College Conservatory of Music (where Lauren Star will major in flute performance). Having been through this “leaving ritual” twice before, I braced myself for the emotions of a life-transition that is far more than a tearful goodbye. As my wife and I go home, we have a major life transition of our own to anticipate. Like college to a freshman, there is cause for excitement, questions, anxiety and wonder. But, fear not faithful readers. The proverbial “empty nest” to which Wendy and I return will no doubt inspire yet another poem in the near future.