I forgot about this...

I was going through old emails looking for a specific one I wrote last year. But I found one I had forgotten all about. While I was deployed, I met someone on-line and from a few short emails, a long conversation started. We laughed, we cried, we talked. Oh man did, we talk. This person has become a very good friend since those times. I still call just to chit chat and end up spending a few hours on the phone talking about everything.

The great thing about our emails to each other is that they were rapid and long. I could always expect to wake up in the morning to the message "Good Morning, Sunshine!" which, despite detecting the sarcasm in the words, always brought a smile to my face. There would be emails fired off all day with most as replies to a previous one, forming chains. Since I was a little more than 8 hours ahead of the States that meant that we were writing to each other at all hours. For me, those emails made the time go by faster and were an escape from the day to day life of a deployment. For that, I owe this person much gratitude.

Below is one of those emails. The original email was titled "LMAO" ( Laugh My Ass Off ) and had started as a response to something I had written that made this person laugh. The day before I wrote this, I had found out about Rahmeen passing away and had mentioned it, that was email#8 in this chain. In #11, she told me how a friend's son had committed suicide and how she felt. What I have pasted below is the twelfth and final email of "LMAO". Maybe someone will read this at a time when they need that little boost to keep going.

RE:LMAO


I'm sorry for your friend's loss. Though they will have to live with this, they should not blame themselves. There is only so much a person can do for others. Ultimately, it is each of us as individuals that decide how we live our lives. Others may offer something, but it is you and you alone who decides whether or not to accept it. That is the burden of being a parent, friend, husband, wife and leader. Things happen for a reason and no matter how hard you try to change it, if it is meant to happen then it will. That is the side of life that sucks.

I'm also sorry if I made you cry the other day. I didn't mean to. But I am happy that you did and happy that you got angry. Because it means that you care about more than yourself and those close to you. That gives me faith and hope that this world hasn't totally gone to hell.

I'm going to type out a poem for you that a friend of mine gave me over here. Maybe it will help you someday. Consider it a gift. It's called "Desiderata".

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there
may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with
all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to
the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive
persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always
there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements
as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is
a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not
this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and
everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it
is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress
yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the
universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And
whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever
your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be
cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

I think you've had enough emotional news these past few days. If you write back before I write again, start a fresh email. I will do the same. LMAO is old. Take care and stay warm ( just trying to help you think Fall is here).

Chris

Where do we go from here?

" Well, I guess I'll be busy tonight visiting all the convenience stores and beating people up." said the ignorant ass I worked with shortly after 9/11. "Really? But not everyone working at a convenience store is a Muslim. How will you know which ones to beat up?" I asked. "Easy, if they're wearing a turban, they get beat up." He said. " You idiot, Sikhs wear turbans. They didn't do this." I said, "You're going to beat up the wrong people. Since you don't know anything, let me help you. First we'll go to the restaurant I hang out at. The owner is a friend of mine and Muslim. Then we can go to this other restaurant where a friend of mine works as a waiter. He's Muslim too. Afterwards, we can go to my home and you can beat up my wife".


I didn't think of today's date right away this morning. It hit me on the drive to work. When I realized what day it was I had been mulling over a subject that has been part of several conversations I've been having lately with several people at different times and places. The subject was if life was predetermined. Several nights ago, I couldn't sleep; too much thinking lately. I was hungry so I made something to eat and went on Yahoo. While I was eating I saw an update on a blog I read, so I checked it out. It had been posted three hours earlier. The post was nothing but a question; "Do we shape our own destinies, or is everything predefined and we just have to walk blindfolded in this journey of life?" This was eerie because at the exact time this post was published to the site, I had been discussing this very same subject with a friend of mine. It's been on my mind these past few days, among other things. So I'm wearing a uniform driving to a job at an organization that is part of a war that didn't really start on 9/11 but certainly escalated that day. And I asked myself "How did I get here"?


The Personal:


As complicated as my life was up until 10 September 2001, those complications magnified ten fold on the 11th of September because the next day, 12 September 2001 , I got married to a woman who was Turkish ... and Muslim. There are a myriad of issues that arise in an intercultural/inter-religious marriage which I'll not get into at this time because it's a topic that would require a whole other post. But those issues exist and would have existed in our marriage whether 9/11 happened or not. Those difficulties became more complex on 9/11 and new issues arose for our marriage on that specific day, even though we weren't married yet. Muslims carried out the attacks and did so in the name of Islam. Because they did so in the name of Islam, their actions were in the name of or on behalf of Muslims, at least from the perpetrators point of view. Was I at the World Trade Center or the Pentagon when the attacks happened? No, but I was attacked because the targets weren't so much the buildings but ideas, beliefs, culture and so on that were associated with those buildings. Because I am an American, I am associated with those symbols. That put me in the camp of the attacker's enemy which in turn made them my enemy. The woman who would be my wife the next day was Muslim. Since the attacks were carried out on the behalf of Muslims, they were carried out on behalf of her. This put her in the camp of my enemy and so made her my enemy... in theory. She wasn't of course because I loved her. How could she be my enemy if I loved her? It makes no sense. Because I loved her I wanted to protect her from those that would do her harm. You don't protect your enemies. My, my, isn't this confusing.


On September 11 2001 the world changed and yet it didn't. My world changed though. That day did not start a war, it only escalated one that had started before. On that day, I entered that war whether I liked it or not. But I entered it confused as to who was the enemy. On a larger level, Al Qaeda was the "enemy", obviously. But they were also the "enemy" on a personal level because they would potentially do harm to the woman I loved. If they were successful in bringing about their vision it would impact her. She is an intelligent, talented, beautiful woman who has something to offer the world. If they win, all that could be wasted as she would be consigned to a life not as a human being but as a piece of property. Because she is a Muslim woman who married me, an infidel, by Al Qaeda's view of Islam her punishment is death. And so, out of love, I must defend and protect her; I really have no choice. But also out of love, I must defend and protect her from people like the ignorant ass in the story I started this post with. In theory, he is my ally and compatriot in this war by virtue of his citizenship, but in reality that's not quite true. He is a person who would do potential harm to someone I love because of who she is. I must defend and protect her because I love her so he is my "enemy" also. So once again, I ask "Who is my enemy"? But I also ask "Why are they my enemy?"


The Next Step:


Why are they my enemy? Well I ponder this question and the answer gets complex. Take the ignorant ass for example. He is not my "enemy" per se, he is just another human being. He becomes my "enemy" when he acts on an idea that can harm someone I love. It is an emotional response that drives him to act on the idea which in turn carries out the idea. That emotional response is caused by the actions of others who did the same thing though with a "different" idea. Him being my "enemy" is based on the idea that he is wrong, but it is driven by an emotional response to him and his actions. My emotional response to him is one of anger based on an idea of right and wrong but the anger is derived from my emotion of love. The same holds true in terms of Al Qaeda. Al Qaeda is a movement, an idea. The actions of the people who are in Al Qaeda are driven by their emotional response to that idea which causes others to act on an emotional response to the same and other ideas which leads to even more ideas and more emotional responses. And so on and so on and so on. Culture, religion, science, philosophy, morals, ideologies, etc. etc., are the big grand "ideas" that govern and move our world. We may not think or even know about these grand ideas but they effect us at the personal level. Simultaneously, those effects cause us to do things which effect these ideas at a higher, larger level. As concepts, logic and emotion are opposite "realms" so to speak. But these opposites exist in each of us, so we deal with each everyday, every minute, every second. If we tried to organize the world on pure logic, we would most likely destroy ourselves which, paradoxically seems illogical. If we acted purely on emotion, we would not be humans, but simply another form of animal since emotions are really a form of instinct which is what drives the actions of animals. So there is a tug of war going on between both "realms" and this tug of war actually drives both "realms". What governs both of these "realms" and keeps one from overcoming the other is wisdom. Oddly enough, wisdom is derived from both logic and emotion. Is your head spinning yet? Mine is and I'm the one who is writing it. Now this is important to the subject of this post but is not the real subject of this post. However, you need to think about it and take it into account when you contemplate what you have read. With that I will move on.


So I still have to answer the question "How did I get here?" meaning this point in my life. At this point in my life I am a soldier in the United States Army. That army is involved in a war, a large war over big, grand ideas. I don't play any big role or make huge decisions concerning this war yet I still have a role. There is no one single reason I am involved in this war. There are many that have led me to be a part of it and these reasons are all interconnected in some way. One is my now ex-wife. Our marriage is over; it ended in 2006. She has remarried and has a good life. We are still friends, in fact I consider her one of my best friends. I still love her but in a different way. It's not a romantic love but something bigger and deeper. It's very hard to explain. It is also the topic of a different post at another time because to explain things would mean this post will never end. Suffice it to say, at the personal level, she is the reason I fight. I described her before as an intelligent, talented beautiful woman and that is true. She is so much smarter than I in so many ways. Because of those traits, because of who she is, she has something to offer the world. She has the potential to effect changes in a positive way. If she was consigned to a life of only making babies and serving a man; a life where she could not go to school, learn and make choices; a life as a second class person or even a piece of property then it would be a waste of a human being and the world would suffer for that loss. Not in any large way would it suffer but in some small way. And so, because I love her I fight for her in order that she live in a world where she can have choices and be free to be who she is. That is the emotional or personal level.


Since I see what I've just described in my ex-wife, it stands to reason that there are other Muslim women like her in the world today. There are, I know this because I have met them in so many different ways. Some are friends and family of hers. Others are total strangers whose stories I've read. One writes a blog I read and others comment on that blog. Each one in their own unique way have something to offer the world in the choices they make. If there are these women in the "Muslim world" then there must be more in other "worlds" also. Our world is small and interconnected so if the Al Qaeda idea "wins" it would effect these women also in the same way. Now, it also stands to reason that if there are women like this, there are also men who, if allowed to learn and question what effects their life, will make positive impacts on the world. Oh yeah, there are also children, some not born yet, who will do the same... if allowed. If I think the Al Qaeda idea "winning" will end the freedom of my ex-wife, then I must also conclude it will do the same to all these other people. So when I fight, it is for all of them. Not to impose one way on them, but to give them a world to choose what way they think is right and change their mind if they see fit. I will stand against totalitarianism no matter what name or form it takes. That is who I am because that is who I have become and I have become that person because that is my role in the grand scheme of things.


On Predestination:


A long time ago, I got into a debate with a guy about whether life was predetermined or not. Being in my twenties and headstrong, I totally disagreed. "No way something or someone had laid out my life and all the things I did were predetermined. I had free will and made my own choices". No matter how I argued it though, I could not win the argument. The other guy countered everything I said in a logical way. So I left the debate aggravated and refusing to accept the idea.


Later in life, after many experiences, some good and some bad, I started to come around to the idea that life is predetermined. It's a complicated story, but basically I started with the question why? So I mapped my life backwards, retracing the steps all the way. Not just the events, but also the people involved in those events and what had happened to them. Some things I know because those people are still around. Other things I don't. Some questions remain to be answered because time still marches on. What I began to see was all these interconnections and patterns. This led me to realize that the things that had happened in the past had to happen in order to bring about where I am today. But it's not just about me, it's about all the people who have had an effect or influence on me. Certain things had to happen to them in order for our lives to intersect. It grows and grows into this huge amount of interconnections between people throughout time and space. It's a very complex thought and hard to comprehend therefore hard to explain. The best way to do so is with examples which I will do in future posts or responses to comments.

The point is, things happen in our lives for a reason. We don't know what those reasons are when something happens because we don't see the effects right away. Sometimes we never see the effects. Sometimes we see the effects but there are so many degrees of separation that we don't know we contributed to them. When people think about whether life is predetermined, they think of it in terms of their life. In this context, it can be depressing because what's the point? If my life is predetermined and I have no say, I mind as well just sit back and let it happen. You see, that's the mistake. If my life is predetermined, then so is everyone elses' which means there is a bigger story going on that we all play a role in. Now go back and reread some things I have written about myself. The personal level and the higher level? My small role in a large war and the effects on myself and those around me. Maybe go back and read some past posts. Ask yourself the question why? Why did he write this? Why am I reading it? How did I even find this blog? Did I even find it or did it find me? What had to happen in order for me to be here right now reading these words? I would be curious to hear your stories.

A Funny Thing Happened The Other Day.

I met someone this past week. Well, kinda... sorta... in a way. I didn't really meet this person but it feels like I did... somewhat...kinda...sorta. See, it happened on that crazy, topsy turvy thing we call the Internet. The Internet is a crazy place, if you can actually call it a place. It's like a long, never ending hallway with millions of doors along each side. There is no beginning to the hallway and no end. When you enter the hallway, it is from one of these doors and you have a choice to go left or right (I mean that in a non-political way). You can head in one direction and then turn around and head in the other. You can open one door or try to open all the doors. When you open a door and look in, you see a room with more doors on each wall. Each of these doors lead to another room and each room leads circuitously back to the hallway. Some rooms are light, some are dark but they all are filled with things.

Ok people, it's a metaphor for how I met this person. I opened a door and then another door and then another. I came across a room where I stopped a while because I was curious about the things in the room. Those "things" were the words this person wrote and the words other people wrote in response. So I hung around a while and then I decided to visit this "room" more often because I like it. You don't have to like it, you don't have to visit it. That's not the point of this post. It's just background information.

You see, when I was visiting this person's site, it was like I was having a conversation with that person. Except I wasn't talking, just listening. After a while of listening, I had a feeling that I figured this person out; that I had come to know this person...kinda... sorta. So I took a chance and wrote a post about this person. Lo and behold, she read it and talked about it on her site, even shared it with her readers. I got a nice, kind of weird, feeling from the whole exchange. It's hard to explain. You see, it was like I had this brief, momentary connection with another person somewhere in the world despite barriers; a kind of understanding. All well and good.

But then I noticed something the other day. I had five followers. Whoa, I thought, when did this happen? I knew there were more than just the two shown but they are friends and family that stop in from time to time. So I checked out who these new people were. Well, one of them is a certain rebellious arab girl I kind of, sort of know. The other two I can only guess came from her site and I don't know. It's good because a lot of people don't really listen to me anyway so the more the merrier. Still, I had to pause for a minute and think about this because these new people change the dynamics of my blog. So I'll take a little time to explain what this site is about.

First off, welcome to my world. Glad you stopped by and hope you stay. Don't be scared, it may seem a little crazy and confusing but it's not that bad. Kinda...sorta...he,he, he. Just kidding. Now to the nitty gritty.

I like to think and I like conversation. Some of my most enjoyable times were spent in a diner with my best friend drinking multiple cups of coffee and talking for hours about anything and everything. I've had some pretty deep conversations and some pretty deep thoughts. For a long time now, my life has become this quest for understanding myself, the world around me and even at times the universe I live in. Oh yeah, I end up talking about it. Over the years, people I talk to have suggested I write about these things, even start a blog. I usually dismissed the idea for a variety of reasons; "Who would read it? Who would want to read it? I don't have the time. Some of this stuff is complex and I'm not sure how to communicate it. Some of it's personal and I can't really talk about it". Back in July, I finally gave in because I had an idea. My idea was to start a site that had multiple aspects to it. I'll go into the details of this idea in a seperate post but suffice it to say this blog is a possible seed for this idea. As you can tell, I sometimes...OK most of the time...get long winded. Sorry, I can't help it.

Anyway, what I'm trying to do with my little site here is have an exercise in thought. I've just recently started so there is not much here. The posts cover different topics, sometimes in a general way and sometimes not. There will be times when it is just my opinion, other times just an idea or concept I have that I'm throwing out to the public. The point of this is that I want a discussion. I want feedback of all sorts. Agree, disagree, even build on an idea and expand it. You see, I've had a lot of experiences and learned from them. That's caused me to live with certain values, philosophies, morals and such. But I don't just simply reach a point and stop. I periodically, if not constantly, question myself and reevaluate what I think. Just to make sure they still hold true. Different viewpoints help to accomplish that.

The reason I paused with things when I saw new visitors is that I'm aware people have different backgrounds and perceptions and that means when they first come to the site they will make a judgement. There are reasons I have things the way they are but since you don't really know me you won't know those reasons. The quote at the top of the page has some meaning to me that is not necessarily political. It can be interpreted in different ways. The sites listed on the side are there for my convenience as are the news feeds. It's sometimes easier to click over there than to open new tabs. You may find some of them offensive. No one is forcing you to visit them. I don't agree with everything on those sites but I still read stuff I don't agree with. It's called thinking. I do have some ground rules. I would like any comments to be civil, not just name calling. Like I said, the purpose is a discussion, maybe even a debate or argument. Not a shouting match but a reasoned argument. If people write a lot or wish to contribute an article or post, send it to me. I would like to one day add permissions so this site becomes more than mine. I will be adding contact information soon.

I have changed some of what I write lately. It has been more personal, more about me. There are reasons for this. I wrote a post about someone else because she told me about herself. Since that has led her here, along with others, it seems only fair that I tell them about me. My experiences and the experiences of those who have in some way touched my life are what has shaped who I am. In order to understand what I'm talking about you need to understand me. Our perceptions change as we find out more information. You may judge me one way now but the more you learn about me your perception will change. Secondly, there is an underlying theme to what I write and it's a theme developed from living my life. If you know the background, you will understand where I am coming from.

I mentioned an underlying theme. It does and will run throughout this blog. It's your job to figure out what that theme is. Hell, I'm not exactly sure where it's going. When I write a post, I don't just blurt something out. There is a lot of thought that goes into it. The subject is sometimes hard to figure out, maybe even subtle or hidden. That could be because it's a concept I'm thinking about or it could be on purpose. Like I said, it's an exercise in thought. So I only ask that when you read a post, think about it, maybe even reread it and then comment. That's the fun of this.

So, welcome aboard, hold on and enjoy the ride.

Why Do I Do This To Myself?

Sometimes my mind is my own worst enemy. I do a lot of thinking. All the time. We all do that, it's how we function. But with me it's real bad. You see, at any given time there are thousands of different thoughts, ideas, tidbits of information circulating inside my head. Each one is like a little, individual dot floating around. Stupid me is always running around trying to draw lines to connect these dots. Who knows, maybe I have some form of OCD. Now, most of the time it's not that bad but every once in a while I go into overdrive. When that happens it's like a roller coaster ride or flying through the air at supersonic speeds. I'm using these analogies because I don't really know how to describe what's going on. It's a time of highs and lows, energy and exhaustion. Eventually, I come down from the ride and everything goes back to "normal". It can last for weeks though. I'm going through one of those periods right now. I don't know when it started and I don't know when it will die down so please be patient with me.

To an outsider, it's not really noticeable. I seem normal. If you've known me for a long time though you will have learned to pick up on the signs. And like a siren wailing a warning of an impending tornado, friends and family have learned to take cover and hope they're not in the path of the tornado. The signs are subtle. There will be days when I'm very quiet but look agitated. I get restless, pacing around the house, going out for drives to no where, finding a coffee shop or truck stop and getting a cup of coffee then just sitting there observing and thinking. There are frequent trips to the bookstore and hours spent reading, everything from articles to books to blogs. I don't get much sleep during these times because as tired as I get, when I lay down and close my eyes my mind is still racing. God forbid you are the one to accidentally call me during one of these episodes or even worse, answer the phone when I call you. My friend Joe made that mistake the other night. It went something like this:

Phone rings
Me: "Hello, what's up?"
Joe: "Hey, not much. What's up with you?"
Me: "Nothing really."
Joe: "What are you doing?"
Me:" Just sitting here in the parking lot of Dunkin Donuts thinking."
Joe: "What are you thinking about?" (Note to readers, this is a big mistake)
Me: "I don't know. A lot of things. I'm kind of all over the place."
Joe: Knowing chuckle sound
Me: "How's Lisa and the kids?"
Joe tells me something about his wife and kids.
Me: " That's funny. You know, I was just thinking about back when we had the band. Remember how we came up with songs. I wonder why..."

An hour or two later either the cell phone battery has gone dead or we realize it's late and say our goodbyes. We also have that moment at the end of the conversation where one of us asks how we got on the last topic we were talking about. This is because each topic has segued into the other and though they are different subjects, each are interconnected.

So what is this post really about? Well, like I said, I'm going through one of these episodes right now. This morning I woke up, made a pot of coffee and started the process all over again. So far I have sat outside on the steps thinking about what I thought about yesterday, expanding on my thoughts. I have gone on the Internet and checked email, checked Facebook to see that everyone is just posting nothing interesting and then started surfing news sites and such. And that's the problem. See, I came across this. It's a list of five books about the working world. Most of you will probably think " So What? They sound boring". And at a certain time I would probably agree with you. But not now. I read the little synopsis for each one and the light bulbs started firing off in my head. "Whoa, I need to read these. There are themes in these books that tie into what I'm currently thinking about". Here's the problem; Remember how I mentioned recently that I started reading "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire"? It's been hard to get into reading because it requires concentration. That's hard to do when your mind is racing all over the place. It's also hard to do when you have a roommate who watches TV or talks loud on the phone. And now, NOW I have these five books calling to me. Tempting me and pulling me away from Mr. Gibbon's tedious three volume compilation of thirteen hundred years of history.

I feel like a young man who has decided to take the plunge and commit to the challenge of marriage who then has 5 other women tempting him away. OK, I know, that's a little melodramatic. My point is why am I like this? In writing this post I think I have come up with a term to describe myself. I am a mental masochist. I drive myself crazy with torturous thinking and thinking and yet somehow derive enjoyment from doing so. Now that I have determined what I am, a mental masochist, I am asking myself "But why? Why am I like this? How did I get to be this way?" Dear readers, do you see what's happening? It's starting all over again, thinking and thinking and thinking. Somebody, PLEASE, make it stop. I'm begging you.

The story of Rahmeen...or was it Rahim?

It's a rainy Sunday evening on a holiday weekend. I'm on the third day of a four day weekend which though it sounds nice, it isn't necessarily so. You see, a long weekend is nice for relaxing but because I don't have much to do... well, I take that back. I do have stuff to do, I just don't really feel like doing it. I'm getting lazy in my old age. So most of the weekend, aw heck who am I kidding, the whole weekend, has been spent reading and thinking, reading and thinking, reading and... you get the point. Friday morning, I went to the book store and walked out with two books. One was "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini which lasted from Friday morning to Saturday evening. I didn't plan on finishing it that fast which effected my plans for the weekend. What can I say? It was a good book. The other book was "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" by Edward Gibbon. Don't ask, sometimes I just like to torture myself with a challenge that will take months to accomplish.

Now don't think I've been sitting here in isolation, driving myself crazy. Oh no, I've had quite a few long phone conversations with friends and family back home. I had a great one with my best friend Joe last night. In fact, I was originally going to write about it in this post. Somehow we started talking about when we had a band and wrote music. It went from that to how we wrote music different from another band member who actually studied music in college. I'm not going to give away the whole conversation because it's good material to write about in another post. Let's just say that we started with music and ended with conformity which oddly enough ties in to a previous post. Sometimes the coincidences are eerie. So anyway, I was bored earlier and went for a ride. I just went out exploring because I haven't been around this place in a while and had forgotten my way around. Of course, me being me, I started thinking about things while driving around. One thought that popped into my head was something that happened last year in Afghanistan. It's when I met Rahmeen.

There's really not much to the story of Rahmeen. How could there be? When I met him he was only a year and a half old and he never lived past that age. I was at Bagram airbase. On Bagram there are two hospitals; one run by the American military and one run by the Egyptian Army. The hospital run by the Egyptians deals with the local Afghans who need medical care. This is for cultural and religious sensitivity reasons. Both hospitals work together though, in terms of supplies and training. You will find American medical personnel assisting at the Egyptian hospital on a volunteer basis. Sometimes there are Afghan cases transferred to the American hospital because the required care can't be provided by the Egyptians. This could be based on a lack of specific equipment or simply because a specialist is needed that the Egyptians don't have. Sometimes injuries are so critical, the Afghan patient will be flown in by helicopter directly to the American hospital. That's just the way it is.

I guess you could say I met Rahmeen by accident. One day a Major who worked in the HQ asked if he could borrow a vehicle or if one of us could give him a ride down to the PX and the hospital. I told him it was no problem and I would give him a ride. At first, I thought he was sick but then I found out he was going to visit the kids at the hospital. Turns out he went there everyday after stopping at the PX to pick up little treats or things they might need, like toothbrushes. Normally he walked but that night he only had a little time. I was surprised because I didn't even know these kids were there. So I went down with him and rather than wait in the vehicle I went in with him.

First I met Nadzia. She was two or three years old and one of the most adorable little girls I ever saw. Nadzia was in the hospital because she had gotten a hold of an old watch battery and swallowed it. When I first met her she was sitting on the bed, her father by her side, with a bandage around her neck. The bandage was to protect where the doctors had had to do a Tracheotomy. She was playing with a toy the nurses had given her and her eyes were big from fear. You can only imagine what was going through her head at that age in those circumstances. It was tough on me. Show me a little kid whose scared and hurt and my heart melts. If it's a little girl, I'm even worse. The next time I saw Nadzia she was up and walking around. She still looked a little scared but all the nurses doted on her and you could tell she knew she was the queen of the ward.

I met some older kids who were there for different problems. One was born with a cleft palate and was getting corrective surgery, another had almost had his leg cut off in a farm accident. The last kid I met was Rahmeen. I can't really describe him to you because all I saw were his fingertips, mouth and eyes. The rest was wrapped in bandages like a little infant mummy. Rahmeen was burned over 98% of his body. No one had a really clear story of how this happened. His family was Pashtun and the interpreters spoke Dari. The languages are very close but different. Add in the reluctance of the family to talk and the picture was never clear. What I learned from the Major was that someone threw Rahmeen into a fire. His parents got him out and were going to bring him to the hospital but were talked out of it by their fellow villagers. The villagers told them that if they brought Rahmeen to the Americans, we would kill him. After about a week, the parents decided to bring him anyway because his condition was bad. I don't know how to describe the feelings I had when I saw him and heard the story. I know my eyes watered, I got that lump in my throat and I was shaking. All I really wanted to do was go find a corner and cry. I spend so much time trying to understand the world I live in and the people I share it with. But I have never been able to understand what drives someone to hurt a child.

I saw Rahmeen once again after that. I tried to get people back home to send stuff that I could take down to the kids but nothing ever really developed. The Major moved to another unit and I never made it back down to the hospital. When I did run into the Major months later, I asked about Rahmeen. He didn't make it. They tried a lot of skin grafts to save him but because if his age and size, there were only so many that could be done. It was amazing he had lived as long as he did. In fact, because he had survived that long with those injuries, we all thought he would make it. He was a tough little guy.

There is a reason I titled this post the way I did. This story is not for you the readers. It is for me. Rahmeen never knew me. He was morphined up so probably not aware of the people around him. I didn't sit and talk for hours with him and our only contact was a brief "handshake", more like his hand and one of my fingers. If he had lived, he would never know I even existed. My impact on his life was so minuscule as to be non-existent. If anything, he had a bigger impact on me. You see, there is no moral here, no lesson, no finger pointing or grand social commentary. I met him, I felt for him, he died. Shit happens, it happens everyday all over the world. And life goes on...

You see friends, I wrote this for me. Meeting Rahmeen was one of those experiences in life that affect you and shape you in some small way. It's an experience that has no meaning; it just happened. But it's such a small, brief experience that over time it may fade. I never saw his name in writing and for all I know I misheard it. So now I'm not really sure what his name was. That's why I wrote this. I may forget and I don't want to forget.

Why couldn't they have done this research when I was married?

Check out this story from the British newspaper "The Telegraph". According to researchers in the Netherlands, "...men who spend even a few minutes in the company of an attractive woman perform less well in tests designed to measure brain function than those who chat to someone they do not find attractive." The researchers think the reason for this lack of brain function in men is because we use so much of our "cognitive resources" trying to impress beautiful women, we don't have enough left to perform basic functions, like memory.

" Psychologists at Radboud University in The Netherlands carried out the study after one of them was so struck on impressing an attractive woman he had never met before, that he could not remember his address when she asked him where he lived.
Researchers said it was as if he was so keen to make an impression he 'temporarily absorbed most of his cognitive resources.' " Just think of the impact this information will have on society, not that we hadn't already figured this out millions of years ago. But now, men have a new excuse that is backed up by science. "I'm sorry I forgot our anniversary dear. It's just that I'm so distracted by your beauty I lose the mental capacity to remember things". If she doesn't believe you, hand her a copy of the study. BRILLIANT!

Of course, there's a possibility the study is flawed. Picture a bunch of science geeks in lab coats who spend all their time in a lab. It could be that what the data really tells us is that researchers need to get out more often.

The "Rebellious Arab Girl"

Hello dear readers, all two or three of you who actually take the time to read the meandering, confusing thoughts of a person, that would be me, with far too much time to think. Today, I would like to introduce you to "Rebellious Arab Girl", more better known to her fans and readers as Mona. Rebellious Arab Girl is the name of Mona's blog and what an interesting blog it is. I found her blog listed in the blog roll of another site and clicked on it out of curiosity. Oh the magic of networking. Anyway, after that first day of reading her posts and the comments from her readers, I have become hooked. Those of you who really know me are probably thinking it must be a blog filled with elaborate essays on feminist issues in the Arab world. Not quite, which is why I've linked to Mona's blog above. Check it out to understand what my interest is about.

OK, perhaps I will still have to explain my interest in the blog. First off, check out the banner to the site. Underneath the title it says "Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values". Wise words to live by. Far too often, we associate change with tearing down what exists and starting all over; Out with the old, in with the new. Doing so doesn't necessarily bring about change for the better. The funny thing about the name of her blog is how many people don't understand the context she uses the word rebellious. She is rebellious in the sense of not conforming to cultural norms because somebody told her to conform. Explain to Mona why she should act a certain way and, if it makes sense to her, she probably will act that way. Although, from what I've picked up on reading her posts, it will still be on Mona's terms. Mona is a 28 year old, Arab woman living in the West. She is educated, talented, opinionated and young. Her blog is much more like a diary, simply putting out to the world her day to day thoughts on her life and life in general. However, there is an underlying theme to the blog taken as a whole. That theme is the question "why"? Why do certain things happen? Why do people act the way they do? Why, why why?

I am 12 years Mona's senior, non-Arab and male. My life is and has been nothing like hers in so many ways. And yet I find her blog interesting. Since I found Mona's blog, I've been reading past posts going back to 2005 when she first started. Sometimes I disagree, sometimes I agree, sometimes I chuckle, especially when she relates an argument or discussion with her mother. I think no matter what gender we are or culture we come from, we all can relate to dealing with mom. That's the magic of her blog. If, like peeling back the layers of an onion, you strip away the culture, strip away her education, her occupation, even disregard her gender, you are left with a basic human being. That's where the commonality begins between Mona and me. That is why the blog is interesting to me. Because I can start to relate as a fellow human being which means that even when I may disagree with something she may write, I will at least think about it and consider her point of view.

On a wider level, my interest in Rebellious Arab Girl the blog is because between Mona's posts and the comments from her readers I see something bigger; The future. Mona and all those like her, whether they realize it or not, are the future. As an Arab woman asking the question why, she is the future of the Arab world. As simply a young woman asking the question why, she, and all those like her, are the future of all of us.