The Church of the National Knights of the Ku Klux Klan - Blog 3 of 3

On July 1, 2008, I met with the International Imperial Wizard of the National Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, Ray Larsen and his imperial Klaliff, Larry Grant at Barnaby’s Pizza in Mishawaka, Indiana. 

The two men, dressed in Klan garb, berets with the Klan insignia gracing their heads as they opened the doors for me to pass through.  I don’t remember feeling scared, just unsure of how the conversation would go.

Would they be talkative about their beliefs? Would they shed light on where they learned such hatred for others? I had no idea what to expect, I know I certainly didn’t expect them to be clad in Klan berets.

I sat across from Larsen and Grant as they explained their experience in the Klan, their love for the constitution, their passion for the white race and their commitment to Yahweh. At one point, Larsen, grey hair, blind in one eye, a retired railroad employee, father and grandfather, leaned over and looked me straight in the eye as he said, “Ma’m I am, I am a racist. I take pride in the accomplishments of what my race does.  If you take pride in what the white race does, then you are a racist. Am I prejudiced? You’re damn right I am.”

These thoughts had clearly been embedded in his brain for many years, the words rolled off his tongue as clearly and easily as if they were words rolling off the tongue of a devout Catholic reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

But then, the Klan is second nature to Larsen. He’s been a member since September 14, 1960 when he joined the Georgia Knights. “I joined September 14, 1960 and am considered the last of the dinosaurs in the Klan, I seen so many Klans come and go,” he said. He recalled how he had stayed with the Georgia Knights for only a year before joining Robert Shelton’s United Klans of America (UKA).

“In August of 1993, Pastor Dale Rousch said he wanted to see me and I went down and he told me he wanted to dissolve the Klan.  But he said I think you can take it to better places and he threw me the keys to the post office box and I’ve been the Imperial Wizard ever since,” said Larsen, proud of his achievements.

His current role in the Klan leaves him with the responsibility of realms, of chapters of the Klan, in 24 countries and 32 states, all of which are headquartered in the tiny town of Osceola, home to 1,859 people.

As I continued to ask Larsen many questions, he patiently answered them, clearly passionate about his beliefs, proud of the fact that he had established a change in beliefs during his reign as Imperial Wizard, gaining a church status for his group.

“We are a Christian Identity group, it is important to make us a church; I’m as much a Presbyterian or a Baptist or a Methodist or anything like that.  I have the right to ordain just as anyone because I’m a legal church,” said Larsen.

This allows him the right to connect with many people behind bars, as his Klan allows those who have served time for certain offenses to join, while many Klans do not. “These are young minds in there that are being, uh, they know exactly what the races are going on, there are a lot of race wars in there.  A lot of Aryan Brotherhood which is a bad organization for them,” said Larsen who associates with about fifty prisoners through written correspondence.

According to the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), the idea of Christian Identity has been in existence since the mid 19^th century and is described as being, “A racist and anti-Sematic religious sect whose adherents believe that white people of European descent are the descendants of the ‘Lost Tribes’ of ancient Israel.”

Scripture and tradition are two things Larsen and The Church of the National Knights of the Ku Klux Klan rely on heavily.  This is why they believe in the ritual of “cross lightings.” Although it was referred to as cross burning for several years, Larsen and other Klans insist that they light the cross as a way to honor God. If this is true, and not merely a change in image, it would be much different than the original Klan’s intent, which was to intimidate black people. Several cross lightings have been documented at the Ash Road farm.

While cross lightings have become a big tradition with the Klan, so have rallies. I had researched in the South Bend Tribune how Larsen’s Klan had held a rally in South Bend on May 5, 2001. When I asked him about the events of that day, he told me how the decision to host the rally had been his son Richard’s idea. Rick had held the office of the Grand Dragon, or second in command of Larsen’s Klan.

“I thought it was too risky,” said Ray. His instinct was right, the rally ended with protestors and Klan members in a rumble, resulting in eight arrests. Since this rally, the Church of the National Knights of the KKK has not held another rally in the area, other than their Ku Klux Kristmas Celebration and summer White Pride Festivals which have been held at their Ash Road headquarters.

With a sparkle in his only functioning eye, Larsen told of his favorite rally which was held in Russellville, Alabama in May of 2007. He set the stage of the event: 300-400 protestors and supporters surrounded them as they stood on the steps of the Franklin county Courthouse, no fights, no arrests, but a terrific day ending with a  cross lighting.

What are the topics of these rallies? What fuels Larsen’s fury and hatred now? “The main one right now is the invasion from Mexico, that’s first and foremost,” he said. “I’m against the war, too, I don’t think we should have ever been over there.” Both Grant and Larsen take an interest in politics and Larsen, in 2008, attributed an increase in membership to the dissatisfaction with Bush and his war saying, “He’s helped us out a lot, I’m about as anti-Bush as you can get.”

So how did Larsen feel about the impending Presidential election? He considered it a nightmare, despite the historical result which would soon occur. I had inquired about his feelings toward the election in July when we first met and continued to e-mail him throughout the primary election in May and the November election, as well. The nation would soon elect the oldest president, John McCain, the first female president, Hillary Clinton, or the first black president, Barack Obama.

Grant piped up and expressed his thoughts saying he had hoped Ron Paul would be elected. “I do believe he is the only one would could save us from ourselves.  Either of these they’ll get in now (McCain, Obama or Clinton), I fear for my country, I cry over what I see either one gets in and I am scared for what my kids are going to have to deal with.” Ray agreed that the “country is lost.”

Larsen said he didn’t consider Hillary to be “that bad off.” But when I asked if he would vote for her if he became Obama’s running mate, he quickly expressed, “God no, you can’t see me voting for an animal, can you? If Jesus Christ himself ran behind Obama I couldn’t vote for him.”

Needless to say, despite their displeasure with the impending election, the show went on and the citizens of the United States elected our first black president, Barack Obama. That evening, I hopped on the internet to see what the Klan members had to say about the election.

“America, born July 4, 1776; America died November 4, 2008,” scrolled the top of their website.

Everyone has a right to their own opinion and beliefs. As I stated in my first blog about the Klan, I don’t agree with their thoughts, but I still believe they have a right to believe or practice as they wish. I still believe they have a right to be passionate about their beliefs, even though I believe they are simple-minded and wrong.

There are religions that I don’t understand or agree with and I don’t try and squash the rights of those believers to express themselves.

My goal of this blog isn’t to persuade you one way or another to like or hate the Klan, but simply to present a little insight into the conversation I had with two of the members, primarily Ray Larsen.

While his Klan is located less than 30 miles from me, there are Klans everywhere.  No one really knows how populated they are or where, when and if they will decide they will ever take action for their voices and beliefs to be heard.

Larsen believes that a race war will occur in 2012 when the Mayan calendar runs out. At this time, he will have 54 years under his belt as an active Klan member at which time he will retire. By leaving the Klan, he will take the title of Imperial Giant, meaning he was at one time an Imperial Wizard. “I won’t have the hassle, the headaches and all the calls. In prisons, I have about 50 people that I write to, it gets quite extensive,” said Ray.

One thing is clear, Larsen believes in what he is trying to accomplish with his Klan and wants to be remembered, “as a man that believed in what he did and did the best he could do for his race. I have a lot of people who look up to me, my title is ‘his lordship’ and I have a lot of people who would die for me.”

The American Knights of the Ku Klux Klan - Blog 2 of 3

I never met Jeffrey Berry, the Imperial Wizard of the American Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, but I learned a lot about him through newspaper clippings, internet research and even a documentary on the History channel. This second blog is presenting background information about one of the largest Klans in Indiana during the 1990s.

He was one of the robed Klansmen that I saw when I turned on the Jerry Springer show in 1996. During their television appearance they flashed the number of the Klan, 219-337-KKK, on the screen and over 6,200 calls for literature about the KKK flooded the phone lines. Can you imagine? I couldn’t believe when I read the figure, it says something about the viewers (other than myself, I was just flipping through the channels) who watch those shows. But Berry?  He was very pleased with the response from the show; after all, he viewed their appearance on the Springer show as a regular “cash cow” with 6,200 inquiries and a $10 application fee for each member who joined. 

For him, the Klan was a family affair with his wife Edna at his side and his two children, Anthony and Tonya. They shared their beliefs in Indiana with audiences in Portage, Gary, Middlebury, Crown Point and South Bend.

With a communications background, I believe that everyone has the right to freedom of expression.  It is one of the freedoms granted to us by the constitution and I think it is one of the great ones that helps define our American heritage. However, I hate the message that the Klan conveys, and I don’t believe that their right to freedom of expression should come at a cost to the rest of the public. This is one of the areas upon which I disagree greatly with the Klan. 

I found a newspaper article stating that when the American Knights of the KKK participated in 15 rallies in Indiana during 1998, it cost the state $640,000.00 to provide security. Keep in mind that only covers a small number of rallies in one year, while this particular Klan was active in rallies for almost 10 years.  

While reading about the American Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, I found a book about Brad Thompson.  He is what I envision to be the stereotype of a Klan member.  He lived in a trailer in a small town in Indiana with his kids and girlfriend.  A factory worker, Brad was discouraged with the direction his life was going.  Economically depressed, he felt that every day was filled with a lack of attention and that he didn’t have anything special to offer others.

A history buff, he saw an advertisement in the local newspaper that the Klan was going to rally less than an hour from his house.  His curiosity got the best of him when he decided that he needed a little adventure, and he set out to attend the American Knights of the KKK rally and cross burning.

He had become so obsessed with Klan activities and even became the Grand Dragon within a short period of time, which is like being second in command of the Klan. He said, “I remember the day I was elected Indiana Grand Dragon.  I was so happy driving home, whooping and hollering, shooting my gun out the window.  I walked into the trailer and told Brenda (his girlfriend) that I was really somebody now.”

I can imagine that this is how many members of the Klan get started, seeking acceptance and attention from others.  The Klan reminds me of almost any cult or gang, with potential members being seduced by those around them, a feeling of hope and passion for new beliefs.

Berry and Thompson parted ways a year or two later and Berry made decisions that landed him in prison. When a television news crew interviewed Berry about his Klan involvement, he asked them if they were planning on interviewing Thompson. When they said they did, he became irate and locked them in a room in his home.  Several of his Knighthawks, or security guards, kept the reporters hostage with guns drawn.  After several hours, and the promise to destroy the tapes, the two reporters were released. Following the ordeal, Berry was arrested on 10 felony charges and imprisoned for almost three years.

Klan members say they don’t use violence for others to listen to their message, but this instance as well as many others, make me feel otherwise.

Several years later, Berry was at a party hosted by his son, when an argument took place, and Berry’s son Anthony and his friend, Fred Wilson, threw a chair and critically injured him.  After the younger Berry punched his father in the head repeatedly, Jeff was rushed to the hospital where he was declared legally blind with additional head injuries.

Why is this important? It’s important because Berry was a leader of the largest Klan in Indiana during his reigning days as the Imperial Wizard of the American Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. While his Klan has decreased in numbers over the years, and a new leader has taken the reigns, the Klan is still active in Indiana.  No one knows how many people are members of this secret society and no one really knows how many firearms and ammunition they have stockpiled. This sense of secrecy empowers the Klan and leaves law enforcement guessing at how much potential damage they can do.

Klan members wear their hoods for a reason, so they don’t put their families and their jobs at risk. Klan members can be anywhere around you and you need to be prepared for what their messages are so that you won’t be caught off guard when or if they try and persuade you to join in their beliefs. After all, remember the ancient saying, “those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.”

How I became interested in the Ku Klux Klan – Blog 1 of 3

I can recall sitting in my 4^th hour history class in high school learning about the Ku Klux Klan (KKK). I remember thinking that it seemed so long ago that white men were wearing sheets and riding horses while parading around town scaring black people and burning crosses on their lawns.  When I heard stories about the Klan of the 1800s and early 1900s, it seemed like something so foreign that couldn’t have happened so recently.

A few years later, I was in college and came home from school and flipped on the TV to find six couples sitting on the Jerry Springer stage and yelling about White Power. I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears.  Were there really members of the Ku Klux Klan in 1996?  I had no idea.

It wasn’t until almost 12 years later at a local restaurant on the west side of South Bend that I thought about the KKK again.  That night, I was sitting with friends when one of them pointed out that a young guy playing pool was in the KKK.  I think my jaw must have hit the table, because I didn’t realize that members of the Klan still existed, not to mention that this guy was in his late 20s. He was dressed in jeans and a blue sweater and had blonde hair, and wasn’t anything like how I had envisioned a Klan member to look. 

I want to make it very clear that I am not a fan of the Ku Klux Klan.  However, when I realized that I didn’t know they even existed anymore, I thought it was important to learn more about them.  It is a practice I have with many things that I don’t know much about.

So I decided that evening that I needed to learn more about the Ku Klux Klan.  After all, there was at least one living within ten miles of my house.  Were they only filled with hatred for black people?  Were there many Klan members in South Bend?  Did they still burn crosses on people’s lawns?  How many are there?

Although I knew that I wasn’t a target for the Klan, I live in a very racially mixed neighborhood and I wondered how much of a target my neighbors were.  I remember coming home from work after I initially Googled the Klan and talking about it with my neighbor Earsel.  He is a black man in his late 30s, his wife is white and his daughter is bi-racial.  I mentioned the KKK and a shiver came over him. I think he was teasing a little, but he did appear a bit shaken by the conversation and we only talked about it another time or two after.  It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about the KKK.

I learned a lot about the Klan throughout the next few years.  I researched them because I think it is important to try and understand the opinions of those who have differing beliefs and passions than my own. It would be easy to simply say the Klan is crazy without understanding who they are and what they believe; however, without that understanding, I don’t believe I would have an intelligent argument against them.

My next few blogs will be about the KKK and my personal experiences when I decided to interview them.   I think it is important to share what I have learned, because I realize that not everyone is familiar with the Klan, especially the current Klan in Indiana. I hope you will use my interviews and insight on the them as a learning tool that will help you form an educated argument and opinion for or against the Klan.

On the Road Again... Las Vegas

As the big bird took flight last Friday morning, I landed in a city with big lights, all night action, Egyptian pyramids, the Eiffel tower and the Lady Liberty.  I was ready for a long weekend in the Sin City of Las Vegas, Nevada.

My friend Brenda and I had used free tickets we had accumulated from Southwest and comps earned at Harrah’s Casino as a chance to get away for a “cheap” extended weekend. We both enjoy gambling and were looking forward to the 80 degree temperatures.

We arrived at Harrah’s by 9am on Friday, ready for a full day of gambling, a few cocktails and a lot of laughs.  After check-in, I quickly flashed back to feelings I had a few weeks before during my trip with Tamara and Brett to Detroit, Michigan. The feelings of being directionally challenged, and once again uttering the words, “I’m lost in the hotel and can’t get out.” The Mardis Gras tower and Carnival towers were clearly different, but Brenda and I found ourselves directionally challenged several times during the weekend.

The afternoon flew by quickly and we ventured to Bally’s hotel where we had tickets for “The Price is Right Live.” It was kind of ironic, since neither of us are avid watchers of the show. As we waited for the host, Drew Lachey to take the stage, a little fear of embarrassment set in that we would be chosen to go up on stage and neither of us knew much about the game. The show’s producers drew audience members randomly to “Come on Down” to win prizes.  We had each spent $49 on tickets and neither of us was chosen. Brenda would have been good at the game and I think she was a little disappointed that her name wasn’t called. On the other hand, I would have been terrible and prayed each time they announced the contestants that my name would not be called! It was a fun experience and a good way to spend an hour and a half.

After the show, we headed to Caesar’s Palace to explore. We decided to grab a little late night snack at a restaurant called, Hyakumi.  It was the best sushi either one of us had consumed in a long time. It was definitely a place worth visiting, but my dogs were barking and I was ready for bed when we finally left the restaurant at 1am.

We spent Saturday morning wandering the strip and I ended up at Luxor for the Bodies Exhibit. For only $27, using a $5 coupon I had found in a magazine, the exhibit held my attention for nearly two hours.  The exhibit displays several human bodies that have been preserved as a teaching tool for those who peruse the exhibit. The skin on each of the bodies had been removed to show the skeletal, circulatory, muscular and nervous systems. The exhibit also illustrated how the numerous organs in our system work together. I highly recommend a trip to a similar exhibit which will be at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago this summer.

Saturday night was an adventure for us in downtown Las Vegas, or known to many, Old Vegas. We had a great time wandering the streets and watching the Fremont Street Experience which spans several city blocks. The light show is an overhead tunnel of electronic images set to the music of the Doors. This way my fifth trip over the years to the light show, but I still enjoyed it. Again, I was really ready for bed, Vegas is a tiring city.

I have to admit, I was moving a little slowly on Sunday morning, but we set out after breakfast for a trip to the end of the strip on the monorail. We worked our way down the strip with the thought that when we doubled our money at each casino, we would move along. This idea worked a bit better for me than it did for Brenda, but I think we were both having fun. We saw the insides of beautiful hotels like the Wynn, Palazzo and Venetian. While Brenda decided to head back to the hotel and chill for awhile, I decided to visit the Fine Arts Gallery at Bellagio.

Signs in the hotel had boasted paintings including works of art by Monet and Hockney. Using my student discount, I paid a mere $10 to view the 33 paintings in the gallery. Although the price was right, I have to admit I was a bit disappointed in the exhibit. Riding on a high from the Bodies Exhibit, I was ready to be intrigued by creativity of some well known artists. Unfortunately, there weren’t that many well known artists and I wasn’t all that envious of the talent I was seeing. Instead, I was disappointed by the numerous works of abstract art.

We spent the evening casino hopping from Mandalay Bay to Excalibur. I feel like even though we were in Las Vegas from 9am on Friday until 9am on Monday, we saw and did a lot. I’ll give the atmosphere and the cultural experiences two thumbs up! And after a few nights of being home and some rest and relaxation, I’m ready to get back on the road again…

I attended the opera and actually liked it!

Throughout my life, I’ve been introduced to music and art appreciation, school plays and lessons in history, but I don’t feel like I ever really understood their importance. I lacked an appreciation of how these arts lend themselves to culture. On Saturday, April 9^th, as the red velvet curtain at the Detroit Opera House opened, I realized that as I get older and become more open-minded to these cultural experiences, the more I enjoy them.

I recently traveled with friends to Detroit, Michigan because I wanted to see the Opera, “The Magic Flute.”  As a student in the Liberal Studies Program at Indiana University South Bend, I am required to take a certain number of classes in the disciplines of Humanities, Social Sciences and Sciences.  To fulfill this requirement, I had enrolled one summer in an opera course, because it was the only Humanities course offered.  I wasn’t at all excited.

I thought that operas were all the same, really fat people singing words I couldn’t understand in very high pitched voices.  I remembered telling people that I was not a fan of the opera - a stereotypical statement that I didn’t have the right to make since I had never attended one or even listened to one on the radio. 

Throughout the semester, Dr. David Barton had introduced us to operas written by Mozart, Verdi, Monteverdi, Wagner and Puccini.  Not only did he teach us about librettos and arias, but during every class we would watch scenes from the various operas.  My view of opera quickly changed from my initial thoughts of high pitched vocals spewed from the mouths of fat women.

My research on “The Magic Flute” led me to have a greater appreciation for acting, for the vocal ranges presented, for costume and set design and for the imagination it took for Mozart to create the libretto. I had watched “The Magic Flute” many times on DVD so that I could write about its significance and many uses of symbolism in my paper and now I was seeing it in person.

The lights dimmed at the Detroit Opera House at exactly 7:30 and the orchestra began.  For several minutes the curtain stayed closed as the music was playing.  Then, the curtain was raised and a beautiful set design was exposed, and I was in awe.

Sopranos, baritones, tenors, altos and bass singers filled the stage throughout the next three hours, bringing to life an opera that had been written and performed since 1791.

Several times throughout the opera I caught myself with a small smile, absolutely amazed at the talent that graced the stage. It was definitely worth the money for tickets and time to travel to Detroit, and I am sure that I will see another opera.  The only downside was that it was about a half hour too long. It wasn't necessary the opera that was the problem, I was just uncomfortable sitting in a suit for that amount of time. I would have been fine sitting on a couch, wrapped up in a warm blanket while watching in my pajamas.

I’m glad I am branching out and learning to appreciate music and art more and would encourage everyone to be a little more open-minded to new cultural experiences.

On the road again...

I love to travel and I’ve been fortunate enough over the years to be able to visit some very beautiful places like St. Maarten, St. Thomas, the Bahamas, California and Mexico.  I’ll travel whenever I can afford it and when I can find someone else who is willing to go.  Recently, my adventures led me to Detroit, Michigan.

I can say that it was better than I had expected, but I don’t think I will add it to my list of favorite places.  About now, you might be questioning why I would choose to visit Detroit? It’s simple, a few years ago, I took a class at Indiana University South Bend about the Opera.  I had written a lengthy paper on Mozart’s Opera, “The Magic Flute,” and I decided that if there was ever a production within driving distance then I would attend. It was a great opportunity to blend a great weekend getaway with a culture experiences.

I’ve never been to the opera, much less Detroit.  It was a weekend of new experiences, all of which turned out to be positive.

I asked about eight friends from work if they would like to be a part of the weekend adventures and I only got two takers, Tamara and Brett.

We set out for what I believed would be a weekend of witnessing purse snatchings, grand theft auto and mob or thug style shootings.  I’m happy to report that I really didn’t see any of these things, other than a poor guy outside of the pizza place where we were eating dinner who had locked his keys in the car and was trying desperately to fish a hanger through the window to get the door open. It wasn’t quite the grand theft auto experience I had anticipated. 

The long stretch of road between South Bend, Indiana and Detroit, Michigan was rather boring, but the 3 ½ hour drive went by quickly.  The early Saturday morning drive was easy and we managed to stay the course without getting lost.

I wish we could say that between the three of us we managed to have an excellent sense of direction, but I can’t.  Just about every time we went into the hotel we had to ask someone how to get to the Marriott, which was located in the Renaissance Center building.  If you aren’t familiar with the building, picture three large circular building attached to each other.  Needless to say, Brett, Tamara and I walked in several circles that day, repeating the phrase, “I’m lost in the hotel and I can’t get out.”

Our directional challenges didn’t end there.  We meandered around town looking at Ford Field which is the home of the Detroit Lions, Comeristar Park, home of the Detroit Tigers, and Joe Louis stadium, home of the Detroit Redwings.  While it may seem that we are avid sports fans, these were just easy stops on the People Mover.

What’s a People Mover?  It is a small two-car above ground subway that transports people throughout the city and stops at about 8-10 downtown districts.  It’s a great invention and we felt safe riding the People Mover which only cost us fifty cents each per trip.

Anyway, back to our directional challenge.  We took the People Mover to Greektown and I gambled at the casino for a half hour while Tamara and Brett grabbed a drink at the bar. The Greektown Casino spans a block or two with several entrances and we had used the valet parking in the casino when we first arrived.  It took us several trips down the same hallway, a bit of frustration and asking a few people how we could get back to the parking garage before we actually found it.  Again, we muttered the words, “I’m lost in the casino and I can’t get out.” Being lost seemed to become a theme for the weekend.

We walked most of Saturday, with the occasional ride on the People Mover. We saw the “Spirit of Detroit” statue, the Windsor Tunnel, the Riverwalk and several other well known places and buildings.  I never felt unsafe walking around town which surprised me. I had conjured up such an unsafe vision of Detroit in my mind before we got there.  Don’t get me wrong, there are many abandoned buildings and I am sure several unsafe places, but my trip to Detroit was a fun-filled weekend with several new experiences.

Ashley Gilbertson shows honor for fallen soldiers

When you think of U.S. troops serving in Afghanistan and Iraq, what is your mental picture? Do you envision a soldier carrying an AK-47 in camouflage? Or do you picture him as the young son or daughter of proud parent who is serving his or her country?

 I attended a lecture at Indiana University South Bend on Tuesday night given by Ashley Gibertson, a photojournalist who has reported for many years about the wars overseas. Although he was embedded with several military units in both Afghanistan and Iraq, he isn’t what you would typically imagine as an information link between the war torn countries and the United States.

Clad in his grayish black jeans, untucked white collared shirt and leather jacket, his curly brown hair stuck up wildly above his head.  The 33-year-old spoke of the War and Peace he had experienced in these countries with his native Australian accent, softening the message he had for a room filled with approximately 100 guests.

I was touched by the messages he conveyed in his hour talk. First and foremost, he wanted to convey the importance of the honor that should be bestowed upon the men and women who fight for our freedom. He also feels deeply for the men and women who serve overseas and are dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorders. 

He believes strongly that the more people in the United States who hear about the post traumatic stress that soldiers face overseas, the better. He encourages them to put pressure on congressmen and senators to push for assistance for these soldiers so they don’t succumb to feelings of suicide, as many soldiers already have.

Gilbertson’s first experience was in Iraq in 2003, and he believes that he “grew up” there.  I’m sure it’s a feeling that many soldiers have as they are faced with questions of right and wrong and life and death.

He showed many pictures of soldiers performing their duties and many civilians just trying to get through life. Both sides are dealing with the aftermath of decisions made in Washington. 

Ironically, he began his slideshow of pictures with a re-enlistment service in Baghdad, where several hundred soldiers were seen.  Clearly these people were committed to their country, uniforms pressed, standing at attention, heads held high.  The next picture was of a Muslim worship service showing several hundred backs as their service continued. Each picture portrayed a sense of commitment of very different beliefs.

He explained that one of his most effective pictures was one where the unit he was with had captured someone and handcuffed him, placing a hoody over his face. The shadow of a United States Marine engulfed the image of the man who was captured.

On both accounts, killing people in Iraq is a very impersonal happening.  It’s like ghosts, because people don’t know what the other person’s story is. Who is his mother? Who are his children? Does he live in New York or does he live in Florida? Was he a star athlete in high school or on the debate club?

Gilbertson hopes that his pictures will bring a humanizing effect to everyone that views them. He hopes that viewers will see that these soldiers have homes, they have family members and goals. If only Washington were under this assumption, maybe it would be harder to push for war. If only we knew all the names and backgrounds of each soldier it would make us more vulnerable to accepting that war is not necessarily the right answer.

Gilbertson wanted to honor the soldiers and their families by doing something that he believes hasn’t been done.  He approached the families who had lost a solider during the war and asked if he could photograph the soldier’s bedroom. He wanted to honor them by portraying things that had been most important to each of them.

Ashley spoke of a soldier, Noah, who had come back to his home on leave from Iraq.  Only he didn’t choose to return to that life, instead he ended his life because the post traumatic stress was just too much for him. We need to focus on the individuals at war, not the right or wrong of why the war is happening.

It was about then that Ashley began searching for a way to honor the fallen soldiers.  Whether they had died in combat or couldn’t struggle with the trials and tribulations of life, Ashley wanted to figure out a way to honor these heroes.

That is when he began taking photographs of Fallen Soldiers bedrooms. It is a way to address the absence of people that most of us would not otherwise know.  It is a way to personalize the “form letter” obituary of a fallen soldier.  Is it enough? It’s a start, a way to take responsibility and understand who the soldiers are who have given the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom.

Here is the link for Ashley Gilbertson’s tribute to the fallen soldiers. His tribute will probably leave you thinking less about the politics of war and more about the men and women, mothers, sons, wives, daughters, fathers and siblings who are living day to day in war conditions.

Yep, that's my dad

I want to share a story with you about a very important person.  He’s my friend, my mentor, my coach and he’s also my dad.

I consider myself a very lucky person to have had a great relationship throughout my 33 years with him and look forward to many years ahead.

Last weekend, I had signed up to walk a 5K in Valparaiso.  I had spent the night in LaPorte at my Mom and Dad’s house, something I often do in the summer months. My dad had said he would walk with me.

We had decided on the way to the walk that neither of us would hold the other person back, I had a goal of finishing in 43 minutes, my dad had a goal of 46. Having goals is only one of the lessons my dad has taught me.  We encouraged each other to do our best.

As the gun rang out and everyone moved slowly through the cattle prod to the starting line, we were off.  Weaving my way through several people, I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and doing it quickly.  I looked around for my dad, his 6-foot frame, grey hair covered by his baseball cap, broad shoulders filling out his grey sweatshirt and black sweatpants. He had found his groove, I was proud of my dad, he was on a mission.

For the next 42 minutes or 3.1 miles, I continued to trail my 60-year-old father.  Not that I ever thought of him as frail or weak, but he was kickin’ it! I knew what he was thinking, too.  I knew he was doing the same thing I was doing, picking out someone ahead of him and trying to catch that person, setting mini goals throughout his walk.

During the competition, I flashed down memory lane.  I remembered times when I was 6-years-old, playing Junior Miss Softball and I am sure my dad would be glad to tell you the story about how I became a pitcher because I cried when they put me in catcher’s gear behind the plate.  It’s a scary place. I was a bit too short for the catcher's gear which was about two sizes too big. The mask covered my eyes and all I could see at times was the bat swishing through the wind about two inches from my face.

He not only coached my softball teams throughout the years, but in middle school he also coached the St. John Eagles basketball team.  Let me just say that I remember riding the pine, or the bench, many times! I was a pretty good athlete, but when I got an attitude or got lazy and fouled the other players, he didn’t hesitate to give me a few minutes to think about how I could do better.

In high school, my dad hung up his whistle and retired as my coach… well formally.  I played basketball my freshman year and softball until I was a junior. There were many instances where I woke up and found a handwritten note with words of encouragement from my father.  I was appreciative of the notes at the time and knew that many of the other players were not nearly as lucky as I was to have such a considerate, compassionate support system. I saved many of those letters.

During college, I didn’t play sports, but I was lucky enough to have a handwritten letter in my mailbox at IU each Tuesday.  I can picture him in his living room chair, early in the morning with a cup of coffee, my mother still sleeping. It was his time with me. Topics encompassed anything from what was happening with his students (he was a sixth grade teacher) to encouraging me to do well in class.

I said that my dad hung up his whistle when I was in high school.  While he was no longer my coach on an athletic team, he has remained my coach in life. His love, leadership, friendship and coaching have impacted me more than he may ever know.

My dad and I talk a lot, but if you know Rich Hahn, you know that he doesn’t ever speak just to hear himself talk.  He’s also not someone to give advice he doesn’t believe is worth something.  Small talk isn’t his thing, I know I got that from him. After all, I share half his genes!

I enjoy spending time with both of my parents and living conditions have allowed me to spend weekends with them during the summer.  This gives me an opportunity to spend time with my aunt and uncle who live next door and my other aunt and uncle who live in town. Family is so important and I am very blessed.

We approached the end of the walk and I tried my best to ramp up my effort.  He was about 10-20 yards in front of me and I tried desperately to tie him. It didn’t work, he finished with a time of 42:03 and my time was 42:23. But we had a great time participating in a healthy activity and enjoying our time together, even if he forgot to let me win!

I got home to South Bend and all of the thoughts that I had during the race were validated when I looked up to the fridge.  On the 4x6 sheet of paper was his writing, smiley face on top, “Good things happen when you work hard!” Love Dad.  It’s a message that has been on the fridge for years. It always cheers me up. 

I know, without a doubt, that he loves me unconditionally and that he will always be my biggest supporter, my biggest fan and my best buddy. He’s a great coach, an excellent mentor and I am the luckiest person on earth to have him as my father.

Part 2- Giving yourself the permission to win

In my last blog, I started a review of Ray Pelletier’s book, Permission to Win.  He uses his book to encourage his readers to concentrate on creating a mission, or purpose in life, by establishing goals.  To give yourself the permission to win, you must choose to have a healthy attitude, good, positive communication skills and a well balanced home life. These are the components of what Pelletier believes are part of the Circle of Life.

Today, I’ll look at the rest of the circle, comprised of professional aspects, community and charity, and fiscal fitness.

First, Pelletier encourages his readers that beginning today, you can decide to be successful.  With this decision, you will need to resolve issues with bosses and co-workers and decide not to hold grudges against people whom you feel have done wrong.  After all, you are responsible for your career and attitude is everything! There is no time for excuses in the professional world, you want results. One of Pelletier’s reminders throughout the book is, “You’re better than that.” There are many times I can use this phrase in my professional life. Pelletier goes one step further to illustrate his point that we need to be fully committed to our tasks by saying, “Treat every day like a bacon and eggs breakfast, the chicken’s involved, but the pig is committed!” What a funny way of looking at commitment!

His thoughts on community and charity state that because we are choosing to be champions, with a well-balanced Circle of Life, it is better to give than to receive and we should volunteer to help others.  By doing so, we will be re-enforcing our commitments to be champions, therefore coaching our views to be positive and confident.  This will happen when we become more aware of the intensity of life's beliefs.

Next, Pelletier believes that in order to pursue our mission in life, we must be able to be fiscally fit. Too many times in today’s society, people live for instant gratification and purchase items that will make them happy for today, not considering how they will pay for that gratification.  He suggests that people should guard their credit, borrow respectfully and make it a priority to pay yourself by saving money. 

He writes about the importance of having the water of life. He believes water is as essential to life as spiritual, physical fitness and leisure are to being a champion.  I agree with his writings about spirituality, because he wasn’t preaching that you need to believe in the Bible, go to church, etc.  He wrote about how spirituality is a sense of knowing right from wrong, of being decent, honest, fair, forgiving others and having compassion for those around you.  Although these are things I already know and try to practice, it is always nice to have a little reminder. He encourages readers that forgiving others and themselves for things that happened in the past is an opportunity rather than a challenge.

Finally, he touches on the importance of taking time and giving you permission to win, in matters of physical fitness.  Pelletier admits that this chapter was the hardest to write, because he has battled his weight his whole life and continues to do so. Like many of us, he knows what to do to lose it and he knows the attitude he needs to succeed, but knowing and doing are two separate things and he continues to strive for permission to conquer his fitness challenges. 

Like many motivational books, Pelletier ‘s message is a bit hokey at times, but challenges his readers with motivational messages  as he encourages them to be champions who decide to give themselves permission to win.  He uses short stories to illustrate and remind readers how these elements of the Circle of Life are important.

I have read this type of motivational book many times, but I do so with an attitude of acceptance for information that I may already know.  Many of these books have the same outlook and teach roughly the same ideas, but I find the short stories and necessary reminders a bit reassuring.  I know it’s alright to have bad days, I know there will be times when my attitude is terrible, but I am always trying to improve.  As Pelletier mentioned in his chapter on physical fitness, we all have things we need to improve upon, we are all searching for permission to win.