A Completely Different Kind Of Post. Blog Tour Time. Face Me Day.

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I’m sure some of you came here today for a lovely Veteran’s Day posting. Something deep. You will not be disappointed today. The format will be a bit different than usual because I was invited, as the only male in the group, to be involved in FACE ME DAY, a blog tour about inner beauty and makeup awareness. I am not making that up. But before we get on to the post, I do want to greet all of my fellow Veterans and say what an honor and joy it is to know so many of you. I am also proud to have served, and will quietly celebrate this day in my own way with my wife.

For those of you who didn’t buy the opening, it’s for real. There’s even an official logo:

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How in the name of all that is this blog can I tie no makeup to Veteran’s Day? It’s a two-parter. First, the picture of me without makeup:

Only slightly demented

Only slightly demented

I am also required to post a scriptural quote: Psalm 139:14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.

Next, I challenge you to post a picture of yourself without makeup on your Facebook page.

One final item for you: at the bottom of this post, there are a number of other bloggers writing on this same topic today. Many of these people are friends of mine who had to work very hard to post these pictures. The reason for that will be explained shortly. There will be, I promise, some great writing involved. So when you hit the bottom of my blather, hit the link and continue the tour.

The purpose of this event is to talk about the beauty we have within each of us. God made us in His image, and consequently there is beauty there that is far deeper than the skin. Some of my fellow authors declined to write for this event, because of issues dealing with their appearance. Not that they aren’t beautiful, but they don’t think that they are, and the careful construct of makeup is what makes them publicly presentable in their opinion. I frankly mourn that view, each and every one of them is beautiful beyond belief. I wish, within the bounds of propriety, I could hug each of them and tell them how much their inner beauty shines through when I look at them.

Let’s talk about me, always a fascinating topic, and my non-makeup mug. Before you all laugh, I do wear makeup when I’m doing television commercials and modeling. It’s a must to look good under the lights, and I don’t have any choice. It’s not so awful, but it’s not me. I sped out of a commercial shoot some years ago without getting all the makeup off – I was kind of orange. It got me some very strange looks at McDonald’s just outside of Des Moines. I also bleach my beard for the Santa season, and apply whitener for my visits. I sometimes darken that bleach job if I’m modeling as a biker character. So I’m not always makeup free. I hate the stuff: gives me zits.

I’ve even had plastic surgery: a mini face lift. That was a struggle to agree to the surgery, I’m pretty much opposed to altering your appearance surgically. I’d run out of options, however, in that my eyebrows and lids were so droopy as to be causing vision problems. you can see it’s back to some degree in this photo today. I’m cursed with the saggy face thing. But medical needs prevailed and I got the surgery.

The levity is now over. The next part will probably shock some of you, and others will nod knowingly.

Many of my brothers and sisters have come back from combat with terrible scars on the surface of their bodies, especially burns and blast damage. It is very difficult for most people to look them in they eye without recoiling. The unusual is always hard to deal with, especially if it looks painful. I am blessed in this regard: I see the beauty beneath the trauma. I don’t know why, but the scarring doesn’t bother me: I know how they got that way and recognize that it could have been me in an earlier age. I also, on many occasions, see the wounds beneath the blemish free skin of others. In no case are they any less beautiful than before they entered military service. But they are different inside and out, most of them self-conscious about how they look.

We are a culture based on thin, beautiful images in our media. Wounded Warriors, physically and mentally, are outside this norm we have embraced. Yet these people often have an inner grace that God values above all: they have risked all for their fellow soldier/sailor/airman, and they did it with faith in the outcome. But they are staying in the shadows lest they be judged. Today, when you see a wounded warrior, don’t just blithely thank them for their service. Stay and chat for a moment. Find out what their life is like and hear their story. Some will not want to share. Others will love the fact that you are looking beyond the puckered skin or deformed eye-socket. People. They’re just people like you. People blessed with an inner beauty from our Creator. Can you look closely enough to see the virile young man in an 80 year old body? The drop-dead gorgeous woman hidden within the 300 pound body that accompanied her PTSD? Each of them is beloved by God. Why aren’t we loving them as well?

Am I happy with my face without makeup? Yes. I honestly don’t look at it much beyond checking the beard for food particles and making sure the shave took all the bits away so that my noggin is smooth. Have I always been happy with my face? Pretty much. It’s a good face, it’s my face.

But I understand the makeup issues. I know why people use the stuff and try to change how the world sees them. I have a secret: I have a terrible body image. Really bad. You see, I have been told since I was a little boy that I was fat. I identify myself as fat, joke about it, and recognize the fact that I am truly fat these days. But I ran across some pictures the other day that were taken of me at a point in my life where I was being told, regularly, that I was a fat-body, a blob, a pig, unfit for the uniform, etc. You know what? I wasn’t. I was a handsome young man with a great smile, hair, and a muscular figure. But that’s not how I’ve seen myself for most of my life. I’m fat. How did I ever let Satan’s lies convince me that I was something that I wasn’t? But convinced I was.

When some of my friends declined to do the blog tour today, I understood. They feel as ugly as I feel fat, and I have felt fat for decades. I am becoming aware, slowly, that while I’m overweight I am not as repulsive as I’ve been told. When I analyze who I really am, that outer body is just where I live. It’s like an apartment that God gave me for a short time to put my stuff out of the weather. I don’t feel this the way some of my female friends no doubt do, nor do I do much beyond buying bigger clothes now and again. But I do get it: it hurts. It’s not part of the culture.

Well, I’m out of that closet now. I won’t be changing much about me in the near future: my love affair with donuts continues. But to my friends who look in the mirror today at their bare faces and recoil, remember that God has instilled in you a beauty far beyond what Max Factor could ever envision. You are his son or daughter. I’m going to work on that for myself from here on out. I’d like to thank Jaime Wright for coming up with this idea and getting me to really think about who I am: I am a son of the King.

Happy Veteran’s day to all of my fellow warriors out there. I salute you, and I know you’re beautiful. Especially my wife, a veteran who doesn’t need a single dab of makeup to make my heart beat funny. I love you, Kip.

Now, please hop over to: Laurie Tomlinson’s blog to continue the tour.

I’ve included a list of the other blogs that are participating so that you can hit all of them as you choose.

Nick Kording: http://nickkording.com/thoughts/
Lindsay Harrel: http://www.lindsayharrel.com
Joseph Courtemanche: http://www.commotioninthepews.com
Gabrielle Meyer: http://www.gabriellemeyer.com
Jaime Wright: http://coffeecupsandcamisoles.blogspot.com
Carrie Wisehart: http://www.carriewisehart.com
Emilie Anne Hendryx: http://eahendryx.blogspot.com
Andrea ‘Dia’ Nell: http://andrea-michelle-wood.blogspot.com/
Sarah Baker: http://godbooksandchocolate.blogspot.com/?m=1
KristyCambron: http://www.kristycambron.com
Rachel Britz: http://www.rachelbritz.com
Cara Putman: http://www.caraputman.com
Stacy Monson: http://www.Landof10000words.wordpress.com
Katherine Reay : http://www.katherinereay.com
Katie Ganshert: http://katieganshert.com/blog/

They All Stood Up.

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Sunday was the annual men’s conference at my church. Part of the deal when you belong to a church like mine is wearing specific colors/clothing styles to celebrate different events. My friends are all laughing now, since my wardrobe consists of things you can buy at Fleet Farm and Cabela’s. But I did have a black shirt, a black suit, and a black tie. So I put on the appropriate garb and showed up for the late service.

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During the announcements the congregation recognized the veterans in the group. Called by branch to stand up and sing out. Navy was second, and a few I didn’t know were vets popped tall. This continued through the Coast Guard and then we presented arms. (Saluted)

I was overawed, as always, to feel that blaze in my soul when we all stood up. Here, surrounding me in God’s house on a Sunday morning, were people with whom I shared more identity than most that I will ever meet. I was proud to stand with my brothers and sisters. I knew by their response that each of them had been a warrior in their youth.

Yes, a warrior. I’ve seen this “thing” floating about the web that some of us don’t count as warriors because we didn’t climb into a helicopter and land in a rice paddy, or perhaps cross the Saudi desert in a Bradley. Nonsense. Anyone who ever willingly put on the uniform and served honorably was a warrior. Just because you didn’t get called into battle didn’t mean that you weren’t willing to go, trained to go, and capable of carrying out the mission. That includes millions of service members who have served over all the years who never saw an enemy, never sailed near a hostile coast, or loaded their weapon with live rounds in anticipation of a battle.

As always, the Marine Corps contingent was the loudest. I would expect nothing less. I’m pretty sure my dad was shouting along up in Heaven to amp up the noise level and remind me of his beloved Corps. No doubt the angels will be tired of shushing Marines by the end of the day today, as the 10th of November is the birthday of the United States Marine Corps.

Barring a blizzard (which is predicted in Minnesota today) I will hoist a drink (Diet Coke) with a group of genial Marines in celebration of the Corps. I am honored to have been invited to the party. It has been my pleasure, and good fortune, to have served with Marines in my life. My command was a joint command, Marines in command, subordinate Marines, Marines everywhere. We razzed each other, but don’t screw with me or you face them. Screw with them and face me. It was all the same in the end. Brothers and sisters.

I was reminded of that again on Sunday night as I was watching Criminal Minds on Netflix. I won’t give the plot away if you’re still catching up, but it involved Marines and the brotherhood they share throughout their lives. My wife, also a veteran, and I both got a bit choked up at the end of the show. We know that love in our lives.

You see, we are blessed to have friends all over the world who served with us. We talk, email, and meet for coffee or dinner, or just to stare into the abyss together. It’s a bond that civilians will never know. There is something about the experience that brings you close. It’s shared across generations as well. I feel a kinship with recent vets and WWII era heroes as well. All I have to do is know they were there, standing on the same yellow foot prints where you get off the bus, and I share a history. Doesn’t matter if it was Fort Dix in 1956, or San Diego in 2014. We are all part of the same family.

Today will be my day to celebrate the Marines. Tomorrow, and every day, I honor and celebrate my service and that of my family. We are one in spirit.

Tomorrow will be a different kind of post for this blog, and part of it touches on veterans as well. Please drop by to see what it’s all about and give it some thought.

Thanks for dropping by. Semper Fidelis, Marines. Happy Birthday. Dad, I’ll hoist one for you.
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My State Is So Blue That Even The Whining Is Cyan.

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I’m sitting on my couch watching the election returns from a Congressional district where Satan would get 71% of the vote if he put a “D” behind his name on the ballot. I have grown accustomed to most of the boxes I check on my ballot being a waste of time. For the sake of Pete, Walter Mondale carried Minnesota against Ronald Reagan. It’s that kind of blue.

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However, even in this very blue state, I’m enjoying the schadenfreude of my friends on the left whining about how rude people are to President Obama tonight, and how the projected return of the Jim Crow laws and the supremacy of the Klan will take away women’s rights. I don’t know what kicked this off, but it’s been building for a day or two in the social media. I didn’t see any of those on the ballot, but I can assure you that I would definitely have voted against them.

Speaking as a primary member of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy (VRWC,) [I qualify because I’m white, I served in the intelligence community, and I was a cop] I’d like to point out a few things to my friends on the left:

1. Jim Crow was actually a Democrat deal. Not Republican. Sorry, those facts sting.
2. The Klan, again, was a Democrat deal. I’m seeing a trend.
3. Women being denied the vote is not making a comeback. A surprising number of Republican women did well at the polls Tuesday night. Congratulations to Lt. Colonel Ernst of Iowa.

Further, as far as this stuff goes, I’d respectfully ask everyone to calm down and have a sip of coffee before you continue your rants.

Done? Okie-dokie. Listen, we’re all going back to work on Wednesday. Nobody is going to be put up on an auction block and be sold into slavery, white or black. Women will not be beaten in the street. Dogs will not be served in the local diner. Your education will continue in your college. Etc.

America, as a representative form of government, is set up to have checks and balances. I know that no matter how jacked up things get, short of changing the Constitution, the excess of the current government will be corrected at the next turn of the election cycle. Things get miserable on occasion, and some of that misery is so stupid that it makes my teeth hurt. So, let’s all get on the stick and move, as a nation, for a few things before the next national election:

1. Let’s have term limits. Guys and gals that I hate a little bit less than the current crowd are in charge the next time around. But I don’t want them there forever. Washington and Jefferson would barf if they saw Mitch McConnell being reelected tonight. This was not meant to be a forever job. How about 2 and out for both the House and the Senate. Same for governors, mayors, etc. I’m sick of machines controlling the politics of this nation. It’s not the money in the mix, it’s the incumbency that hurts us. These clowns (yes, clowns, not clown-car occupants) hurt us as a nation when they grow old in positions of power.

2. Let’s have some form of voter-identification throughout the nation. The linked article lays out some reasons for my view, but the simple fact is that the worst form of voter suppression is fraudulent voting. James O’Keefe presented a brilliant piece on this recently. When I voted tonight nobody was concerned that I really was me. Let’s all get past the blind hatred of each other on racial lines and move together as a nation to make every election fair. I appeal to the leaders of the civil rights community to work with governmental agencies to ensure it is a fair process. I want everyone that is qualified to vote to have a chance to cast their vote without it being nullified with fraud. I want not a single soul who shouldn’t vote to vote. I want no body of people, in or out of government, to prevent legal voters from voting. We can make this happen if we work together.

3. Let’s feed the poor, care for the sick, and love one another as Jesus commanded. Not as the government taxed it, but on our own. As a church, as a community, as a body of Christ. Join me in doing this simple act.

4. Let’s all take a breath and look at our fellow citizens as decent beings who do not have our doom and demise as their primary goal based on political, racial, or gender lines. We do a great deal of harm to our nation by letting that anger override our love of rational discourse. I have many liberal friends with whom I can have a rational discussion. I only can think of two that I can’t. Not that I sway the rest, but because the two come unhinged and disparage instead of debate. Do you want to be that person? I don’t. I want my friends, of any sort, to enjoy our discussions. They might think me a fool when we are done, but hopefully a thoughtful fool.

Let’s all take a moment to pray for thoughtful leadership, accommodation in order to honor the Constitution, and the dignity of our fellow citizens. Let’s not get out the tar and feathers. Let’s not gloat. Let’s not whine. Come to think of it, Santa Claus IS coming to town. Let’s get ready to celebrate that wonderful event and get on with our lives.

Finally, be blessed. I’m glad you stopped to read this little missive. I appreciate your loyalty to the blog.

Ebola Is A Bigger Threat Than You Realize.

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You can stop rolling your eyeballs right now. I actually have a considered argument that I have given great thought to in the past few months. Read the blog and then continue to roll your eyeballs all you like. But read it first.

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There is a tremendous amount of news regarding Ebola at the moment. I get more than a bit of news that the average person doesn’t see through some contacts I have, some groups I belong to, and some experience I’ve had working with, and having, infectious diseases. My view of this is fairly solid, and it’s not relying on black helicopters, tin foil hats, or visions from Thetans.

Let’s lead off with an anecdote first: Two years ago I visited Haiti. Two years ago I got dysentary. Two years ago Immodium and a strong antibiotic dealt with the dysentary. Two years ago I flew back to the United States feeling just fine. Four hours after I landed I developed all the symptoms of Dengue Fever. My bathroom rug was never the same. I should have been in the hospital, but I was too sick to get out of bed and call an ambulance: the high fever and hallucinations, combined with dehydration, will do that to a fellow. Thankfully I recovered without further ado in about a week. I felt terrible for a month. Had I known how sick I was, I would have been at the hospital for sure.

That’s how febrile diseases impact you: it’s very fast and horrendously powerful. I don’t think that the current CDC endorsed method of dealing with Ebola is appropriate. I don’t play a doctor on television, nor have I gone to medical school. But the warning signs that we’re being fed a ration of pablum are making my antennae twitch.

Today I got an alert from a missionary support group I belong to that they are discouraging any travel to that region. The VA hospital I use had Ebola warnings posted starting in the parking ramp: If you have been to West Africa, or in contact with those who have been, and have the following symptoms contact our medical staff immediately. I have also talked to several people in the first responder world who are very nervous about this in the wake of their training.

No big deal, you say, they’ve treated all the people infected here and cured them all except that first guy in Dallas. Yes they have. And at what cost? Not that saving lives is a bad thing, nor should we deny care to the sick. But each one of those patients requires a massive amount of care, isolated rooms, special linen and trash service, decontamination of ambulances, decontamination of planes, decontamination of bowling alleys, etc. Each patient is going to cost approximately $300,000 to treat.

In onesies and twosies this is manageable. But wouldn’t it make more sense to isolate anyone coming back from a medical mission, or from one of those countries, for the full 28 days? (21 is the protocol. I like a little insurance in this case – throw in free cable and gourmet meals.) It’s going to be cheaper. The argument is that you will stop the great humanitarians of our age from going to treat the sick. Yes, it will stop a few narcissists from making the trip. But the real saints? 30 days extra after risking their lives so that others may be safe from infection? I don’t think it would be an issue. If you can go and work there for a month, budget two. Three months? Budget four. It prevents the spread of a contagion.

Here’s the nub of the problem: it’s very expensive in both manpower and money to treat a single patient. There are finite resources available to safely handle these patients. What happens when a cluster breaks out, and it will happen here just as it does in Africa, and twenty or thirty people are infected? That effectively shuts down two major hospitals to treat the people. Multiply 30 patients x 25 health care providers and you now need 750 doctors, nurses, orderlies, janitors, etc., to handle the cases. All of whom are now at some risk. For many metropolitan hospitals that’s the end of treating anyone else for a while.

Spread that out now to an ambulance/paramedic system where you have everyone who responds to the scene needing to be monitored and disinfected. Two paramedics, five firefighters in my area will be exposed, as well as a couple of cops. Should they go home that night? Who does their job while they are out of circulation? Who cleans that ambulance if they’re all in isolation? Who goes to the heart attack call down the block while they check it out for being a hot zone?

It’s not the individual patient that creates the panic, it’s the cascading effect. We can handle a case here and there, but one big outbreak in any city and you will see store shelves cleared, EMS shut down, and hospitals vacant. It’s the chaos factor that is the problem.

So the next time they tell you on the news that it’s being handled and you’re a sissy and a panic patient to worry about it, think of the real costs to our infrastructure if a group of 10 people in a mid-sized city come down with Ebola.

But don’t worry: our state department is busily working on plans to bring non-citizens in for treatment as I type this up. It’s as reliable as rocket launches that we will be able to handle this as well. And we’ve been launching those things for over 60 years. Heck, Ebola is only 40 years on our screens. We’ll whip that just as well and twice as quick-like.

Just for a change, couldn’t we err on the side of caution?