So Much For Sexual Assault Awareness Month

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and I think it's time the students of Ball State University were reminded of that.

I'm a student here and have heard all about the incident on campus Wednesday morning. Near Neely Avenue, two women reported a white male on a "bluish" bicycle slapped them on the behind as he rode past. This also happened to a faculty member and, at least once, was followed up with the assailant giving the woman the finger and shouting "I love you!" I'm doubting these were his first and only acts against women. Read the full story here.

Do I believe these incidents worthy of newstime on CNN? No. Do I believe UPD (University Police Department) overreacted? Only slightly. There's a reason for the emergency posts around campus. One of them is because assaults worse -- some far worse -- have occurred on the Ball State campus, at least two last semester alone. And that doesn't include those that went unreported.

Do students take incidents like this seriously? Of course not.

Was there outrage that people would do this? Hardly.

Was there a Facebook fan page for the perpetrator? Yep.

And t-shirts that are selling for $10 a pop. I could hardly believe it when I saw the page on Facebook. How do these people see another's violation as funny or appropriate in any way? In my Theater 100 class, on guy (note the gender) said he would have taken it as a compliment. Granted, a few girls said this, too, but I'm doubting this is how those women would feel, or how those who were the object of this man's "affections" felt, when it happened to them. And people wonder why assaults are so prevalent on college campuses. It isn't just alcohol overflowing, despite laws regarding age of students allowed to drink. To be honest, if you think your little boy or little girl doesn't have access to alcohol on campuses because he/she is under twenty-one, you are, with all due respect, an idiot. It isn't because of testosterone-filled college guys at parties who lose control. It's not because girls make poor choices. These are all factors, but I believe the ultimate reason is because things like some butt-slapper are taken so lightly. No one thinks twice until someone gets seriously hurt or worse. Not only is it taken lightly, but because of the Facebook page and the T-shirts, it's being encouraged.

To be honest, I'm ashamed to say I go -- I pay to go -- to this school right now.

Now, I don't usually agree with the decisions of Ball State president, Jo Ann Gora, but for once, we seem to be seeing eye-to-eye on something. In an e-mail sent to the student body on Friday morning, she said:

"I am disappointed by the reaction of a portion of the student body. The creation of a Facebook page mocking these incidents and inviting similar behavior for fun goes beyond poor judgment. Such mimicking and mocking has the effect of condoning strangers to violate personal space and touch others without warning. It is both insensitive and disrespectful to anyone who has ever been assaulted, including the victims and to the entire Ball State community. This attempt at humor misses the mark badly and is an embarrassment to the university."


As of this writing the fan page has nearly 8,000 fans.

By the end of today, estimates from www.now.org say 600 women will have been assaulted in America.

That's about 13 fans for every woman assaulted today.

Think about it. The one in five women who are victims of assault could be your friend. Your mother. Your sister. Your girlfriend, wife, or daughter. Will you be a fan of that, too?

I'm in no way saying that a slap to the rear is equivalent to rape. But this sort of thing is where rape starts -- a violence, anger, and utter disrespect for others.

What really saddens me is that women were joining this group as well. I've heard the stories that prove women can be, often, more vicious to each other than men, but encouraging behavior like this against other women by joining a group like this is sick.

So, in short, the incident was blown out of proportion with the emergency alert, but not as much as people seem to be saying (take a gander at the comments on the Daily News article). I don't think they needed to send out text messages to the student body, but they were right in letting the student body know about the incident. The person who created the page is more than a little sick and the people who joined are the same. Those who came forward and reported the incident set an example of courage for those who will come under assault in the future. As for the "Ball State Ass-Slapper," as he has been lovingly nicknames by his fans, I hope he is caught and punished according to his crime (and yes, to those who don't know, what he did was illegal).

Forgiven

When Christians think of Easter, we often think of Christ’s rising from the dead. A worthy thought to be sure, as it is, indeed, the reason for the holiday and the thing that sets Christianity apart from all other faiths – a risen Savior. It is, probably, the most important aspect of the fulfillment of the mission of Christ. His death reminds us that we are redeemed, saved from sin unto Christ and saved from our own way – the way of destruction – but His resurrection conquered the grave, giving us a way to do the same. I think most of us are so caught up on our own redemption (and for good reason) that we neglect to notice the redemption of one particular man who happened to be very close to Jesus.

This morning in children’s church (and in night church, as well), we watched a video about the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, with an emphasis on the resurrection. As I was watching, it dawned on me that my redemption from sin was not the only lesson in this story.

We are told in John 13:36-38:

“Simon Peter said unto him, ‘Lord, whither goest thou?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Whither I go, thou canst not follow me now; but thou shalt follow me afterwards.’ Peter said unto him, ‘Lord, why cannot I follow thee now? I will lay down my life for thy sake. Jesus answered him, ‘Wilt thou lay down thy life for my sake? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, the cock shall not crow, till thou hast denied me thrice.”

What a shock that must have been for Peter. To be, at the time of his speaking, so sure that he would be ready and willing to fight and die for his Lord and then be told by that same Lord he would blatantly deny Him, not once, but three times before the next sunrise? I know I would have been. I’ve been sure of so many things – that I would do (or wouldn’t do) something, only to find that I didn’t (or did) wind up doing them anyway. But imagine how it would feel to be told in advance by someone I had pledged allegiance to that I would turn my back on them, especially when they needed support most (not that Jesus needed Peter’s help here, but from a human perspective, I’m sure a kind word from His friend would not have been turned away at that point). I think you would be shocked and probably trying to convince that someone they were wrong. With Peter’s penchant for foot-in-mouth disease, I’m sure he tried to convince Christ that what He said was wrong – that he, Peter, would never in a million years do such a thing.

And for a while, it stuck. If you recall, Peter was there in the garden when Christ was arrested and stood firmly by his Lord long enough to cut the ear off of a servant of the Ciaphas. Christ rebuked Peter for getting in the way of His mission – to go as a lamb to the slaughter, without fighting, yelling, or an escape attempt. Peter even followed the group of soldiers who were escorting Jesus to His trial (if you can legitimately call it that) from a distance and waited outside the high priest’s house while the “trial” went on inside. We are told in Luke 22:54-62:

“Then took they Him, and led Him, and brought Him into the high priest’s house. And Peter followed afar off. And when they had kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, and were set down together, Peter sat down among them. But a certain maid beheld him as he sat by the fire, and earnestly looked upon him and said, ‘This man was also with Him.’ And he denied Him, saying, ‘Woman, I know Him not.’ And after a little while another saw him, and said, ‘Thou art also of them.’ And Peter said, ‘Man, I am not.’ And about the space of one hour after another confidently affirmed, saying, ‘Of a truth this fellow also was with him: for he is a Galilean.’ And Peter said, ‘Man, I know not what thou sayest.’ And immediately, while he yet spake, the cock crew. And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how He had said unto him, ‘Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.’ And Peter went out and wept bitterly.”

Can we blame him? In his fear of being recognized with Christ, he had done just as Jesus said he would, and exactly what he said he would never do. Imagine what shame Peter felt when he heard that rooster crow and saw the gaze of his Master rest upon him. He had failed Him, and he knew it.

But God was not done with Peter. Not by a long shot.

Praise God, Jesus rose three days after His crucifixion. That morning, women came to anoint the body and found the tomb gloriously empty. Well, not so gloriously at first, as they were convinced someone had taken the body. When they saw that there was no body in the tomb, they ran immediately to John and – you guessed it – Peter, and gave them the news, saying “They have taken away the Lord out of the sepulcher, and we know not where they have laid Him.” (John 20:2) John and Peter ran to the tomb, finding it as the women said. John arrived first, but it was Peter who entered to see the abandoned linen. We are told in John that after he (John) entered, he believed, but it says nothing about whether or not Peter believed. The book of Mark says that, after His resurrection, Jesus appeared to the eleven (all the disciples but the late Judas) as they sat eating (Mark 16:14). That would include Peter. Personally, I think, in his grief over, not only the death of his Lord, but also his betrayal, Peter was not ready to believe at the time of his seeing the empty tomb, but what joy he must have felt to see his Master appear in that room, even if He was berating them for their unbelief. I think this joy might have been mixed with some kind of fear as well. Not just because Jesus appeared to randomly materialize from thin air (which, truth be told, would have certainly scared me), but also from retribution. It is our human nature (and Peter’s) to want to react in vengeance when we are wronged. As far as Peter was concerned, this could be what was next for him after Christ’s return from the dead. Of course, we know that his sin of betrayal was already forgiven and that it is against Christ’s person to wreak retribution, but how was Peter to know, or if he knew, remember that? (I’m not a theologian, but it’s a thought. Feel free to argue.) Imagine his relief when Christ made no such move. The feeling of forgiveness.

Later we find that Peter and some of the other disciples have returned to their old career – fishing. They have been fishing all night and have caught nothing. From somewhere on the shore a man (later discovered by the disciples to be Jesus) calls out to them, “Children, have ye any meat [fish]?”

“They answered him, ‘No.’ And He said unto them, ‘Cast the net on the right side of the ship and ye shall find.’ They cast therefore and now were unable to draw it for the multitude of fishes. Therefore the disciple whom Jesus loved saith unto Peter, ‘It is the Lord.’” – John 21:5-7a

Personally, I don’t think Peter needed John to tell him that the man on shore was Jesus. Who else could have filled their nets after a full night of catching nothing, simply by casting their nets on the other side of the boat. I find it difficult to believe the fish were simply playing hide-and-seek with the fishermen and got tired of shifting to the other side of the boat when they put their nets down on one side. Jesus knew what would get their attention and got it most effectively.

Peter dove into the water and swam ashore to his Master, who I imagine welcomed him with open arms. Such is the way He welcomes any repenting sinner into his presence – He wants to renew the relationship.

While they ate, Jesus asked Peter some questions. Well, one question, really.

“So when they had dined, Jesus saith unto Simon Peter, ‘Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these? He saith unto Him, ‘Yea, lord; thou knowest that I love Thee. He saith unto him, ‘Feed my lambs.’ He saith unto him a second time, ‘Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?’ He saith unto him ‘Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love Thee.’ He saith unto him, ‘Feed my sheep.’ He saith unto him the third time, ‘Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?’ Peter was grieved because He said unto him the third time, ‘lovest thou me?’ And he said unto Him, ‘Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love Thee.’ Jesus saith unto him, ‘Feed my sheep.’” – John 21:15-17

Three retractions for three denials. Whether Peter was grieved because of the repeated asking or whether he saw this significance, we’ll never know. Jesus, I’m sure, knew it. He knew that, even though Peter had failed, and failed miserably, he was worth giving another chance to do God’s work through his life. Peter was given the command, ‘Feed my sheep.’ God was willing to work through this broken clay pot – this masterpiece in the making – to accomplish great things for Him and His kingdom.

Peter is a perfect example of a man whose failures were elemental in making him into what God wanted him to be. He had failed, he was flawed, he was forgiven, and he went off, through God’s grace, to live true to Christ’s words – “And I say also unto thee, that thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” (Matthew 17:8)

I can’t count the number of times Satan has convinced me that, because I have failed, I’m of no use of God. How could God use someone like me, who messes up, some times worse than others, for His glory, other than to show an example of what not to do? And who wants to be that example? I admit, I have a problem with forgiving myself and forgetting my sins after I’ve confessed them – even if I know that God has forgotten them, removing them as far as the east is from the west. For some reason, it seems I would rather sit and sulk about my inability to “get it right” and beat myself up over my constant failure, than to simply accept God’s forgiveness. But I am reminded here, that no matter how badly I mess up and what my past might look like, that God has a purpose for my future, and, if I just let Him, my present as well. He hasn’t promised to build a church on my ministries, such as they are, but He has promised that what I do in His name will not go to waste, even if I do fall from time to time (or more than that). He has promised to forgive and forget and to continue working through my life for His glory if I get out of the way and allow Him to do so.

Ordinary woman, Extraordinary Life

            I do not remember the first time I saw her, but the last time I saw her, she looked peacefully asleep.  Her hair was white and curly, skin wrinkled, hands, rosary tangled in her gnarled fingers, folded serenely on her chest.  I was five years old and this was my first funeral.  I did not really understand what was going on, as I had never been to an Orthodox Catholic church, much less an Orthodox Catholic funeral.  I did not know my great-grandmother very well and was about ten years older and when I finally did hear her story, I was floored.  I only wish I had been older before she died so I could have heard it from her.

            Anna (Schegetz) Heinrich was born in Hungary in 1905, the oldest of three daughters.  When she was young, her family came to United States, but her mother did not care for the new country.  She left with her three daughters a few years after arriving to go back to Hungary while Anna’s father sold their home and business, planning to reunite with his wife and children back in Europe.  Unfortunately, World War I got in the way, closing the door to European travel.  He could leave America, but he could not go home.

            Meanwhile, Anna, her mother, and twin sisters, Elizabeth and Catherine, were living with a friend, earning their keep by working on a farm, waiting for the war to end and for their husband and father to come back to them.  Things went well for a few months – the war stayed away from where they were staying and the little family was fairly happy – until tragedy struck.  In the harvest of 1914, Anna’s mother was badly burned in a fire and died three days later, leaving the three girls to work alone for a woman the Schegetzes obviously did not truly know. 

None of the three girls could read, so they did not question when the woman they assumed to be their benefactor told them that their father had written and said that he had met another woman in America and had started a family, despite the fact that, by all accounts, Mr. Schegetz had no way of knowing about his wife’s death.  The girls had no choice but to stay for the next five or six years with a woman who reveled, a little too loudly, in the fact that she basically had three slaves to do her farm work.  A family friend found out what had been going on and, now that the war was over, was able to get word to Anna’s father and assured him that he would help the girls get their papers together and help them get to America.

            And so it was that in the summer of 1920, that Anna, now fifteen, and her two sisters, both eleven, none of whom spoke English or any other European language, made the trip across Europe to Schaumberg, France, where they boarded the U.S.S Lafayette and made their way to Ellis Island in New York, where they met up with their father who went with them on a train to Detroit, Michigan to start a new life in America.

            After getting established in Detroit, Anna got a job in a bakery, where she met a young man named Godfrey Heinrich, a man I would eventually name a stuffed bunny after.  They were married in 1928 and Anna gave birth to a daughter, Theresa Ulga Heinrich on August 4, 1932.  They left the bakery where they met and went to work at another bakery in 1936, which they would later own in 1943 and call Heinrich’s.  And, as per what seemed like tradition, their daughter, Theresa, met a young man her father hired as a baker named Lee Stanton Wehlann and married him on August 13, 1955.  In 1959, Lee and Theresa became parents of a baby boy they named Don and in 1990, Don and his wife, Beth, welcomed a baby girl into their lives.  I think we can all guess who that is.

            So it seems that after all the hardships and all the work, a girl from war-torn Europe was able to achieve the American dream.  She was not famous.  She never received any laud from the rest of the world.  Chances are, no one past my generation in my family will even remember her, but the honor of telling her story is all mine.

A Good Reminder

HELLO . . . REMEMBER ME?

Some people call me Old Glory.

Others call me the Star Spangled Banner.

But whatever they call me, I am your flag --

the flag of the United States of America.

Something has been bothering me, 

so I thought I might talk it over with you -- 

because, you see, it is about you and me.

I remember some time ago people lined up on both sides

of the street to watch a parade and naturally I was

leading every parade, proudly waving in the breeze.

When your Daddy saw me coming he immediately removed 

his hat and placed it against his left shoulder so that his

hand was directly over his heart.

Remember?

And you, I remember you.  

Standing there straight as a soldier.  

You didn't have a hat but you were giving the right salute.  

Remember little sister?  

Not to be outdone, she was saluting the same as you -- 

with her right hand over her heart.  

Remember?

What has happened?  I'm still the same old flag.  

Oh, I have a few more stars since you were a boy.  

A lot more blood has been shed since those parades of long ago.

But now I don't feel as proud as I used to.  

When I come down your street you 

just stand there with your hands in your pockets; 

I may get a small glance and then you look away.  

I see the children running around and shouting.  

They don't seem to know who I am.  

I saw one man take his hat off, then look around.  

He didn't see others with theirs off so he quickly put his back on.

And what about that night at the baseball game?  

When they played the Star Spangled Banner and I waved so

proudly in the breeze -- nobody bothered to sing.  

They stood up all right as a sort of mild patriotic gesture but

then they talked among themselves about the game and the weather. 

They didn't sing; I felt hurt.

Is it a sin to be patriotic anymore?  

Have you forgotten what I stand for and where I've been? 

Anzio, Guadalcanal, Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm, 

and the many countries where our Armed Forces have been 

stationed as Peace Keepers.  

Take a look at the Memorial Honor Rolls sometime, 

of those who never came back to keep this Republic free.  

When you salute me, you are actually saluting them.  

One Nation Under God.

I may not be coming down your street for a long time.

It seems that patriotic parades are a thing of the past.

But when I do, won't you do me a favor?  

Stand up straight-- place your right hand over your heart --

and if they play the Star Spangled Banner, sing out loud and clear. 

I'll salute you by waving back.

Show me that you remember!

It Was a Hard Week to be a Celebrity

Images found on Google Images and combined on Picnik.  I do not own the rights to any of these images.  Don't sue me.  I have nothing you'd want.

what with the death of Ed McMahon (1923-2009) due to "pneumonia and other medical problems," (CNN.com), and the high-profile fight and unfortunate passing of Farrah Fawcett (1947-2009) of anal cancer. Oh, and then there was that one singer who also died on Thursday. What was his name again?

Enough of death. I don't think any of them would have wanted the rest of us to dwell on death, so I have prepared some news stories that have caught my eye during the past week while I was avoiding flipping on the TV news. And no, none of them have anything to do with Michael Jackson . . .

Talk about overpopulation . . .

Germany's Least Competent Criminal (and they laugh at us!)

Gross, but ya got to admit . . .

Sorry, conspiracy theorists. It's not UFO's causing these circles.

Assault with a cheesy weapon! 'Bout the only thing these things are good for.

Lost and Found Something to make you go "Awwwww!"

Confessions of a Telemarketer

OK, at serious risk to my social life (such as it is), I'm going to admit to the fact that I am one of the most annoying people in the world.  I'm a telemarketer for an insurance company in South Bend, IN.  I know that most people hate it when I call (they complain about it often), but I've got a bone to pick with some people, myself.  

I understand that no one wants to be called during dinner time and, frankly, I don't want to call you then, either, but no one can deny that the hours of five to seven are when most people are home from work, so it stands to reason that that would be when telemarketers would call.  If you do not want to be called, then you need to take five minutes out of your day to add your phone number to the National Do Not Call Registry.  I did that just last night and all it takes is a working e-mail address, which you can get for free from Yahoo!, first assuming that you are one of the few people nowadays without one.  It took, literally, five minutes.  And here's another thing.  Before you yell at your friendly neighborhood telemarketer about the fact that your number is on the DNC list, think for a second about when you registered.  Apparently, most people are still unaware that your number is knocked off the list after five years.  You have to take another five minutes out of your life to re-register every 1, 825 days.  Cruel and unusual, I know.  And, so you know, most, if not all, of us do check the registry before we call.  I know I do.  Manually.  I key in each number, a long, tedious process, to ensure that I do not call someone on the DNC list.  It's in our best interest to do so.  So stop complaining.  If you don't want to register with the list, simply politely ask to be removed from the calling list of whatever business is calling you.  It's a request that is also in that business's best interest to honor.

Also, you need to remember that telemarketers are people, too, just like you.  Imagine, for a moment, that, in the course of doing your job, you had to call someone you did not know and they cursed and yelled and threw a fit about how they already told someone, somewhere, at sometime in the past that they did not want to be called, then hung up.  How would you react?  Honestly, people, have we, as a society, lost our ability to be polite?  Just because people don't like what we do doesn't make us subhuman.  A simple "Thanks, we're/I'm not interested" will suffice, and will often result in a more polite response from us.  We're not bottom-feeders.  We're just people glad to have a job, and I think I can safely say, that if you were unemployed and looking for a job and you were able to get a job as a telemarketer, you would take it.  Especially in this economy.

So in short, I know I'm annoying, but there's aspects of you that annoy people, too, and, considering how easy it is to keep from being annoyed by us, you need to quit whining.  And, maybe, if you can bring yourself to keep it in mind, at least act like telemarketers are people, too.

Introduction

They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. I've tried blogging several times with minimal success, mainly due to the fact that no one ever reads mine, thereby giving me little urge to continue to maintain it, allowing it to rust away with only a few entries, slowly being swallowed by cyber-dust as I move on to other things.

I guess I'm insane, because I'm starting this again.

It's been only recently that I've noticed the running commentary on life that's been running through my head, and, no, I'm not schizophrenic, and I'm getting kind of annoyed with those who first assume that I am disturbed when I mention this.  I tend to focus on the small aspects of the big thing that is daily life, striving to find small bits of amusement amongst the boring day to day events that we're all more than aware of.  A good part of what might be on here will be things I've observed at school (Ball State University), in the news, and, depending on how much I happen to be paying attention, entertainment news, which, no, I don't consider to be on the same level as real news.  Other things that might show up here from time to time -- rants, raves, meditations, musings, and bits and pieces of writing stuff (both written independently and for school assignments), if not whole short works at one point or another.  If I stick with it.  Who knows?