The Not So Big Bang

If you are reading this, you survived. Congratulations. I never doubted it for a minute; although some did. I’m not alone in my joy to be here today. Good Morning America greeted their viewers last Wednesday with glee. They were glad to have made it, too; glad they were still alive.

If you missed the controversy last week, let me bring you up to date. There is a whole bunch of scientists from a whole bunch of countries trying to recreate how the universe was formed. They performed a really important test last week. They are ultimately trying to recreate the supposed "big bang" that originally started the whole thing off.

The problem with that is that if one big bang started things, another big bang could, well, end things. Since we are dealing with scientific minds, it is much more complicated than that. My version is the Arkansas version.

Let me quote their version, from an Associated Press story in Geneva, Switzerland.
"The world’s largest atom smasher passed its first test Wednesday as scientists said their powerful tool is almost ready to reveal how the tiniest particles were first created after the ‘big bang,’ which many theorize was the massive explosion that formed the stars, planets, and everything."

In laymen’s terms, twenty years of research have gone into building a $10 billion dollar gizmo. The gizmo is a 17 mile long tunnel along the Swiss-French border.

Wednesday, during a test run, a beam of protons were fired clockwise around the tunnel. Then they fired a beam counterclockwise. Eventually, the beams will be filled with more protons, and fired at almost the speed of light in opposite directions. The tunnel is a vacuum, and is colder than outer space. At four different points inside the tunnel, huge magnets will cross the beams and make the protons collide.

The scientists are looking for what they term "hidden dimensions" of space and time. They are looking for what is sometimes called the "God particle," because they think it gives mass to all other particles, and therefore gives matter to the make up of the universe.

Well. We finally have something we can agree on. I could have saved those scientists twenty years of their lives and billions of dollars.

They don’t have to look for a God particle. All they have to do is look for God. A "particle" didn’t give mass to everything else. A particle didn’t make up the universe.

It amazes me that highly intelligent people will study microscopic particles in depth, and theorize that by exploding those tiny things, everything about the universe could develop.
Yet they reject that an intelligent being could have created the universe.

Talk about faith the size of a mustard seed. You could move mountains with the faith those scientists have. But, unfortunately, you can’t create mountains with their kind of faith...not from those itty-bitty particles that just all of the sudden exploded from nothingness and created every living and breathing and thinking thing in the world.

There are people that are scared the world will be destroyed as the scientist continue their tests. They believe if one big bang created us, the testing to make the next big bang will destroy us.

I am not worried in the least. The scientists can send their little protons around and around their big expensive race track all they want. They can spin them, magnetize them, freeze them, collide them, vacuum them or do whatever else they want to them. But they are wasting their time.

They aren’t going to discover a tiny particle that can do what only God did. Nor are they going to discover the beginnings of the universe. The universe didn’t begin with a bang. It began with "In the beginning, God."

Unconventional Wisdom

I’m not into politics as a general rule. I don’t consider myself a Democrat, a Republican, or even an "other." I just consider myself an American.

I don’t care what label a politician wears. I want them to do what they say they are going to do. I want them to be honest, and after they get elected, I want them to represent the public that elected them instead of being concerned only about their own best interest.

Yeah, I’ve already been told that I am simple minded when it comes to politics. I like to be informed, but I despise all the hot air and posturing that involves the election season. For the most part, I stay as far away as I can from political commentators. I’ll make up my own mind, thanks.

This year is going to be interesting. We have some of the same old same old...a couple of a bit past middle aged white guys. Then we have some new and different. An African American man and a Caucasian woman.

I’m not sure what I think about Obama. I support his right to run completely and whole heartedly. But there is just something about him that still leaves me wondering.

I had no problem with that when Hillary was a candidate. I don’t like her in the least. While I would vote for a woman for president, I wouldn’t vote for that particular woman.

I’m an equal opportunity malcontent. I’m not all that thrilled with McCain either. In a country of millions of people, these are the best candidates we have? Whereas Obama leaves me concerned, McCain leaves me cold. I’m not sure which is worse.

The one candidate I really like is Sarah Palin. I would vote for her for President. You can’t tell me she doesn’t have experience. She has all the experience she needs. She is a mother of five. She can handle anything.

Peace negotiations? Been there, done that. Tie breaking votes? Absolutely. Being the "attack dog" for the president? I will let her tell you about that
"The difference between a pit bull and a hockey mom....the lipstick." Yeah, she has it handled.

Forget that she is governor of the largest state in the country. That experience and insight and ability means nothing compared to what she has learned as a mother to five children.

I’m not much on politics, so I’m not sure if I can write in my vote for president. I’m for Sarah. I would love to see her tell Iraq and Iran to sit down, shut up and behave or else. I think they would listen. You just don’t mess with a mother of five.

The Chance To Choose

The issue of School Choice is back in the news. Last year, the Supreme Court ruled against diversity plans in two cities in two different states because of racially based guidelines. The Court ruled those guidelines to be unconstitutional.

As the kids used to say, well, Duh. I’ve had a problem with School Choice for years, because it isn’t. It isn’t a choice for everyone.

In the case in Louisville, Kentucky, a little boy wanted to go to the school near his home. He wasn’t allowed to. By law, he had to attend another school that was farther from his home.

Why did the law make him attend the other school? Because he was white. Think about that for a minute. I’m not trying to be inflammatory. But flip this around and think about what would happen if that boy had not been white. If he had not been allowed to attend a school, and the reason given was because he was black.

It would have been screamed from every news agency in the country. People would have been outraged, including me. And so they should have been. You should not be denied access to a school based on your skin color, regardless of what that skin color is, black or white.

This is what the boy’s mother, Crystal Meredith, had to say.
"We are not here because we didn’t get our first choice, but because we got no choice. I was told by the school board that my son’s education was not as important as their plan. I was told I should sacrifice his learning in order to maintain the status quo."

Meredith’s son now must ride the bus for three hours a day to get to the school not that his parent who knows him best chose, but that was chosen for him by a system based on skin color.
Discrimination is discrimination. If it is wrong not to allow a black child to attend school because simply they are black, it is wrong not to allow a white child to attend school simply because they are white.

But that is exactly what School(not)Choice does. Black children in that live in Blytheville can attend Blytheville, Gosnell or Armorel, as long as that district has room for the additional students. White children that live in Blytheville can not.

The reasoning behind the law is to avoid segregating the schools. But we are segregated already. By choice, by circumstance, by reality. We segregate ourselves anyway. We choose what neighborhood we are going to live in. We choose what church we are going to attend. We choose what job we are going to work at. We choose what sport we are going to participate in. We choose what friends we are going to associate with.

We don’t necessarily base those choices on skin color, but with each choice, we put ourselves into a certain group of people. We choose to be in this group, and therefore choose not to join in with that group over there.

Attempting to desegregate schools has proven to be a failure, time and time again.
Growing up, my sister and I attended the monstrosity known as the Pulaski County Special School District. It was named that because it included parts of Little Rock, North Little Rock, Sherwood, Sylvan Hills, and Jacksonville.

It was the largest school district in the state, and its goal was desegregation. It tried for close to fifty years, and it failed. I lived near schools that were just minutes away, but was bussed across town. My sister was bussed miles away on the interstate to another city, all in the name of trying to mix us all up into some perfectly balanced formula.

It didn’t work. People moved away in order to let their children attend the school the parents chose, as opposed to letting their children be a pawn in some mathematical form of political correctness.

I’m not against our local schools. I am an outspoken supporter of them. I have friends I treasure that started out as simply my son’s teacher. Our local schools have nothing to do with the School Choice laws. They didn’t make the laws, they just bear the burden of enforcing them.

This is a flawed law. Discrimination is always wrong, no matter who it is directed against. The School Choice law doesn’t give everyone a choice. It needs to be re-written, so that School Choice is truly a choice for every parent and every student, regardless of their skin color.

Teachers, Preachers and Faith Keepers

We survived the first week of school. I was sort of hoping we would. In this case, it’s not just my son, but the collective we that makes up my entire family. There’s a lot of us, and a lot of us are intimately involved with education in all of its forms.

My niece Jennifer has a significant other. He survived his first days on a new college campus. My nephew Drew survived the first week of tenth grade in Little Rock at his charter school, as did his teachers. Jen’s law school is still standing.

My Dad got his official school identification badge. Once again this year, he and other ministers in this area will participate in the Pastors on the Premises program. They will be in participating schools giving support to both teachers and students.

My sister survived her first week as a principal. Prayers were bombarding heaven on her, and her students, behalf. I’ve never had so much sympathy for what school administrators deal with.
As a parent, my focus has always been on my one student. I’ve never thought all that much on what one student multiplied by hundreds might mean. Watching my sister deal with the details of those hundreds has given me a new appreciation for that position.

My sister was just graduating from college as I was starting college. I was majoring in journalism but minoring in education at the time. I thought I might want to switch, and major in education like my sister.

Her first year as a teacher was enough to convince me otherwise. I don’t have what it takes. I don’t have the patience, I don’t have the ability to communicate, and I don’t have the organizational skills. I could deal with the kids. I could deal with the parents. I could deal with all the paperwork. I could deal with the rules handed down by the administration and the state. I could deal with any one of those things. But I absolutely could not deal with all of those things, all day long and into the evening, all at the same time.

The further along Teresa went in her career, the more I was convinced I did the right thing by sticking with my original major. I didn’t have what it took back then. I certainly don’t now. I don’t know how educators do it. I’m glad they do; I just don’t know how they do.

Logan survived his first week too, and we all survived right along with him. Changing classes, getting to the locker and then getting to the next class on time, figuring out where things are in a new school...it’s a scene that repeats itself every year for millions of kids, but this time it was my kid.

The first day, my mom was calling for hourly updates. Right before she went to bed, she needed to know if we were ready for tomorrow. Had I signed everything? Had I made sure his clothes were ready? The alarm clock set? Sigh. I guess no matter how old your own child gets, you still need to make sure they are capable of taking care of your grandchild.

The Jonesboro side also called. Each and every one of them. They too needed a play by play of his day. The benefit, or not, of being the only child on that side of the family. The rest of the world may think Logan started to school Monday. We know the truth. We know the entire Furnish/Decanter clan started school Monday.

And so another school year begins for my family. Some of us are actively involved and some us are just supporters, like me. Some of us do what we do best, like my mom. Her role can’t be underestimated. She prays. If Nana is praying, everything is going to work out all right.

This school year, those prayers are going to be focused on the UCA campus in Conway, where Jen’s boyfriend is. In Little Rock, they will be focused on the UALR law school campus, where Jen is; the LISA Academy, where Drew is; and McDermott Elementary, where Teresa is. Here they will be focused on practically every school, but Logan’s school may get a bit of priority.

If someone you love is attending any of those places, this just might be the best school year they have ever had. Mom’s prayers are powerful things.

A Driving Desire

The earth didn’t tremble and quake. Angels didn’t split the heavens to trumpet the glory. Even without signs and wonders, Logan still managed to turn 13 on the 13th.

It was an event he has been looking forward to with glee. Being a teenager represents a magical time of freedom. He is no longer just a kid. He is one step closer to being independent, and that most glorious goal, being able to drive.

Talk about the earth quaking. Just the thought of him being in control of a vehicle is enough to make me tremble and shake. My fearless son; the one that has never seen anything that is too high, too fast, or too scary wants us to start teaching him how to drive.

If we start now, he will be ready when he is 14 and can get a learner’s permit. Yeah, good try son. And my response to his seemingly logical request? No absolute way.

Was it really that long ago when my dad was teaching my sister and me to drive? It really was. My dad is convinced the reason he got gray hair in his thirties is because he was teaching two teenage girls how to drive.

That’s not entirely accurate. I was a breeze to teach. My sister, on the other hand, was a little more trouble. Dad started her out on a stick shift. That wasn’t a good idea. There’s just too many things to keep up with when one hand has to steer, one hand has to shift, one foot has to do the clutch, and one foot has to do...whatever. Either the gas or the brake, depending on the situation. It’s confusing.

If Dad raised his voice so they wouldn’t get killed from the oncoming traffic, Teresa cried. It didn’t keep the traffic from getting any closer. Dad’s lucky gray hair is all he got out of the experience.

By the time he got around to me, he didn’t even consider putting me in a stick shift. Been there, done that, don’t want to risk getting killed a second time.

I was somewhat easier to teach because I don’t cry as quickly as Teresa does. I don’t get quite as shook up quite as fast. I had the benefit of watching her experiences, so I knew what to do and what not to do.

One of the most important things I learned was that Mom would be banned from my driving lessons. I was 12 years old when my sister was learning to drive. She and Dad were in the front seat. Mom and I were in the back seat.

Mom was praying. Out loud. "Help her, Jesus. Bless her, Jesus. Protect us, Jesus" We needed the prayers, no doubt. But what was going on in the back seat didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in the what was going on in the front seat.

I told Dad that Mom would not be in the car when I started driving. She would make me batty doing that. She could pray, but she had to do it at home. It was just me and Dad, and a few more gray hairs, when I was learning to drive.

The day I turned 16, I was waiting to take my driver’s license test when they opened at 8 a.m. I remember the joy and excitement of that day; the exhilaration of being able to go where I wanted, of not being driven around like a baby anymore.

I understand Logan’s desire. He is growing up, and has the same desire I did to be more independent. Understanding doesn’t make me more comfortable though. I guess every parent struggles with this, but it seems like I was so much older at 13 than he is. He is just a kid. I distinctly remember being practically an adult.

He probably will be a fine driver. He has been practicing for years in go-carts, golf carts, and other assorted things. In the deer woods, both his Dad and my Dad have occasionally let him drive down those dirt roads.

There are 361 days until Logan turns 14. Just in case you need to know, so you can prepare yourself and be on alert. On the 365th day, an extremely happy 14-year old will be on the street, happily practicing for his driver’s license. I will be at home. Praying.