This time of year, my morning run begins under the cover of a star-filled sky and ends as the sun pokes its head above the eastern horizon. In deference to the diminished visibility in the neighborhood, it’s the time of year to don my light vest – along with a long sleeve shirt and gloves, and those thermal compression pants (we had our first freeze warning earlier this week).

Back to the light vest. The sole purpose of the vest I wear is to be seen. The vest offers little by way of illumination on the path before me, and, besides, starlight, streetlights, and other ambient light provides enough to see what’s ahead. Mostly I want to be seen by our bleary-eyed neighbors as they back out of their driveways and head to work, often disregarding the speed limit and stop signs.

It’s good to be seen on these dark fall mornings. Continue reading →

One of the texts (and teachers) for a senior seminar on phenomenology

I must admit, it was not typical clickbait, the headline that caught my attention: Right-Hegel Meets Left-Hegel: The misreading of Hegel that Alexandre Kojève shared with Leo Strauss. But click I did; there was, after all,  51 years of guilt to assuage.

During the final term of my undergraduate years, spring of 1973, I enrolled in a senior seminar having to do with phenomenology. (The discipline of phenomenology may be defined initially as the study of structures of experience, or consciousness. – Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy) If I remember correctly, I was invited to register for the class by one of the professors and was flattered by the invitation. There were probably a dozen students in the class and three or four full professors teaching it. Heady stuff. I wrote my final paper on Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire and did well enough.

I have felt guilty about the decent grade ever since.

One of the professor’s books, The Journeying Self, was a primary text for the seminar, and I didn’t understand a word of it. I felt like my journeying fifth-grade self who did not understand the logic, the method, or the purpose of long division. But unlike my fifth-grade teacher who caught on to my confusion early, my PhD professors seemed not to notice how lost I was. They just kept on lecturing, and I just kept on not getting it. Continue reading →

Vi’s House (l) and Mark’s Boat (r)

I was excited when I came across an article on a site called PsyPost, which promises to report “the latest psychology and neuroscience discoveries.”  The report was titled “People Who Pledge 10% of Their Income to Charity are More Morally Expansive and Open-Minded.” I thought I knew exactly who they were talking about.  I have met many of these morally expansive people over the years.  They teach Sunday school and sing in the choir, they volunteer at the food bank and tutor kids in need of some extra help.  They live in the suburbs and the inner city, in Guatemala, Brazil, and Rwanda. Yes, I knew exactly who they had in mind when they wrote about “these extraordinary altruists, who often make significant personal sacrifices to help others, challenge traditional evolutionary theories of altruism, which suggest that helping behaviors are motivated by potential future benefits or kin relationships.”

But it turns out that the article was about a group of people inspired by Warren Buffet, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, and Ted Turner.  Yes, those “extraordinary altruists” who give away 10%, sometimes 90%, of their fortune but still have enough left to gift themselves with a $300 million yacht for their 40^th birthday.  So that’s what a significant personal sacrifice looks like. Continue reading →

Rua Gustavo Cândido de Souza, Belo Horizonte, Brasil

The message arrived Sunday morning and I read it just after worship.  A note, an announcement from a friend in Brazil I first met 24 years ago this week.  He wrote:

Good morning, friend Bill.
How are you – everything okay?
And Becky, how is she doing?
I hope that everyone in your family is doing well.
I am writing to present the newest member of my family
She was born this morning! 7:58 a.m. our time.

The birth announcement included the newborn’s name along with a photo taken just a few hours after her birth.

Such joy.  But how do I tell the story of this joy?  The baby’s dad is a good friend.  A good friend in the ways that the best friendships are good, and good in the ways that some people are good. He is a good man.  And he is a faithful Christian. Continue reading →

It’s my birthday today, so happy birthday to me. And thanks to those who have or will wish me well on the day. Now, in most ways this is not a big deal birthday – not a decade milestone or a year to be marked with precious metals or stones. But it is my RMD birthday and my life will never be quite the same.

As some of you know and understand better than I do, RMD stands for Required Minimum Distribution, and it has to do with how the IRS gets at that money you put in a tax-deferred retirement account over the years. Deferred no more. Starting with today’s birthday, I am required to withdraw a certain minimum amount from a little tax-deferred nest egg that’s been happily protected from the taxman all these years. The IRS says I will have to take out at least so much every year for as long as I live, and that the “so much” will be subject to income tax – the tax that was deferred back then. I can put the money in the bank, take a trip, buy a toy, or give it to my favorite mission cause. I have to take it. Absolutely fair even if a bit annoying.

So how much is “so much”?  It has to do with how long the IRS thinks I am going to live.  I know, it is a little more complicated than that when you factor in designated beneficiaries and so forth, but, yes, the IRS thinks it knows how long I am going to live. They publish a table with just such information. Turns out, they say I will live to be 90. And if I live to be 90, they’ll tax me as if I am going to live to be 96. The life-expectancy table runs to age 99 (when they’ll tax me as if I am going to live to be 101). One of their tables goes to age 120. The taxman cometh. Ben Franklin was right about death and taxes. Continue reading →