Archive for the ‘Inspirational’ Category

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“They keep doing nice things for us”

January 27, 2010

Surprise

Once more, I learn more from my kids than they from me

My daughter’s all-time favorite actor is Tony Shalhoub. He is staring in a limited engagement production of “Lend Me A Tenor” in March and April. Since it is her 18th birthday this year, we wanted to surprise her with tickets (in the second row!) to one of the preview performances. I wanted to keep it a secret until two days before, but my wife wanted to tell her early, so she could be prepared, buy a nice outfit, etc. It is very true that our daughter doesn’t like surprises. But I also think mom was having a hard time keeping it in.

A few minutes later, our two youngest boys (David, 15; and Samuel, 10) withdrew to the family room to play a game together. As their sister walked into the room, Samuel looked up and said to her, “I don’t get it. Our money is tight, but they keep doing nice things for us. We had salmon tonight for dinner. They gave you a ticket to a Broadway play. And they did that nice thing for David the other night.”

“They didn’t do anything nice for me the other night,” David countered.

“Well, then,” Samuel replied, “your turn is next.”

I like this on so many levels, not the least of which being an economy where frozen salmon, bought on sale, is equal to a Broadway play.

I also like the inherent sense of fairness which simply believes that when something good hasn’t happened yet, it just means it will happen soon.

And I very much like the mystery of nice things happening even in challenging times.

[D]on’t you allow what’s happened to this point to lie to you about what’s coming ahead of you. We get stuck on the things we’ve lost. We get stuck on the things that aren’t working, rather than God saying, “Hey, if I said I’m going to give you Canaan, Canaan’s coming your way!”

– Paul de Jong, Life Church / New Zealand

In Spirit and In truth

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Final Salute: A Story of Unfinished Lives

August 21, 2008

Final Salute

I bought two books to read for a weekend trip coming up. I thought I would start with Final Salute: A Story of Unfinished Lives, the “lighter” one.

This book by Pulitzer Prize winner Jim Sheeler should be required reading by every elected federal government official (executive and legislative branches). And you should read it too.

As President Reagan reminded us in the speech he gave at Pointe-du-Hoc, on the celebration of the D-Day invasion, “there is a profound, moral difference between the use of force for liberation and the use of force for conquest.” While Final Salute does not debate the moral merits of the war (I have only read 1/3 of it so far, but this is probably true of the entire book), as one who believes the Iraq war is immoral, I am consumed by the overwhelming sense of loss captured in this book. And this is why our elected officials should be forced to read it.

As one president has noted (I thought it was Reagan, but it may have been Lincoln), young men who die in battle pay twice: once with the life that they give, and the other with the life they never had the chance to live.

Final Salute reminds us of both lives lost. It is not really a “light read”, but it is an important one.

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“Sweater Day” – March 20, 2008

March 17, 2008

Mister Rogers

March 20, 2008 would have been Mister Rogers (Fred McFeeley Rogers) 80th birthday. To commemorate the event, his production company, Family Communications, Inc., is asking fans to don your favorite sweater for the day. You can even send them pictures or videos of your tribute [ FCI's Sweater Day page ].

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Growing up in Pittsburgh in the 1960s, Mister Rogers Neighborhood was pretty big stuff. It hit the Pittsburgh airwaves around 1968, and I just assumed it was just a Pittsburgh show (like “Ricky and Copper” in the morning, and Paul Shannon in the afternoon). It wasn’t until much later that I realized much of America could, and did, watch him.

Like my father, Mister Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister. Both were members of the Pittsburgh Presbytery. I vaguely remember my dad coming home after the presbytery meeting where they voted to support Mister Rogers’ television outreach/ministry.

One time, the phone rang at the manse and I answered it. The male caller asked to speak with my dad. When I asked him who was calling, the man replied, “Fred Rogers”. I was so excited, I ran to get my dad, yelling and screaming that Mister Rogers was on the phone and wanted to talk with him. The voice didn’t sound like that friendly voice I heard each weekday on the television, but all I knew was that Fred Rogers was calling to talk to my dad.

When my dad came to the phone and said “hello”, he laughed. It was Father Fred Rodgers, from the local Roman Catholic church, not the Mister Rogers. I only knew Father Rodgers as just that: Father Rodgers. I had no idea his first name was Fred. I didn’t know anyone else was named Fred Rogers. To me, there was only one.

I also have a vague recollection of seeing the “Mister Rogers Neighborhood” set at a downtown Pittsburgh department store. I think it was Kaufmann’s (even though we only shopped at Gimbel’s). It may have been Horne’s. Those were the only three downtown. The set was not used, but you could walk past it and see it.

I could not find any mention of this via my Internet search, so I may have managed it. My dad also knew, at one time, the general manager of WQED-TV, the Pittsburgh public television station. Actually, he knew the man’s wife – they went to college together and our families ran into each other outside Forbes Field, after a Pittsburgh Pirates ballgame once, and the friendship was rekindled. So we went to the WQED station a few times, and I may be confusing these two. But it feels like I’m right about the former.

Most things about Mister Rogers, I took for granted. Like how he didn’t sell out to marketing his neighborhood. There was that other children’s television show that was popular at the time. They only had one Street, and Mister Rogers had a whole neighborhood. Yet, you didn’t see the whole commercialization sellout. Yes, he probably lost out on untold millions. But he had different priorities.

Spend some time searching the Internet and reading the stories from people whose lives were touched by this special neighbor. Then find your favorite sweater and wear it on March 20th!

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In the Presence of Martyrs: A Reflection from Turkey

April 30, 2007

I received the following today from one of our church’s missionaries in Turkey:

Recently, my wife and I attended a funeral here in Izmir. I have attended many funerals, but this was my first in Turkey. And it was also the first time I attended the funeral of a martyr. I have been teaching and writing about martyrs and martyrdom for many years. We live in biblical Smyrna noted as the place where Polycarp was martyred in the second century. But such martyrdoms are personally and historically distant. Then on April 18 three believers–-Necati Aydın and Uğur Yüksel (Turks) and Tilman Geske (German)–-were tortured and murdered in the southeastern city of Malatya. Needless to say, this brutal act deeply shook the Christian community, both national and expatriate. Persecution in Turkey to this point had taken the form of harassment, intimidation, and imprisonment, but never death. (If you are not familiar with the details of the story, see a summary here)

On Saturday, April 21, Necati’s funeral took place on the grounds of an historic Protestant church in Buca, a suburb of Izmir. Necati had a lived and fellowshipped in this city for many years, and was well known and loved. (He had portrayed Jesus in a Passion play in the past.) The sanctuary was too small to contain the crowd of around 500 persons who came from throughout the country to attend. So the service was held outdoors on a balmy spring afternoon. As we entered the church grounds, people were given a picture of Necati to pin on their clothing. Therefore throughout the crowd Necati’s smiling face radiated forth.

Before the service I wandered in the church’s cemetery among the gravestones that belonged to British believers who had lived and died in Izmir in the nineteenth century. On most gravestones were chiseled scripture verses, many from the book of Job. One verse that especially caught my attention was James 4:14: “What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” Standing in such an historic place only reiterated the truth of that verse.

The Turkish media were in full force and recorded the entire service. The cameras were indeed intrusive, but nevertheless tolerated because the nation was seeing what a Christian home-going was all about. (Of course, the Turkish security police were also present, making note of those in attendance.) The next two hours were a unique tribute to Necati as eulogies were given to him and worship and prayers offered to his Lord. Especially moving was a time of special prayer for his wife Shemsa and their two children.

After the funeral a motorcade took Necati’s body to the Christian cemetery at Karabağlar for internment. I had passed this cemetery numerous times to and from the airport, and had wondered about the crosses that marked its graves. Such a sight is unusual in this largely Muslim country. At the grave site there were again prayers, scripture reading, and worship. And tears flowed once more because of this senseless death of a beloved brother and friend. Then Necati was laid to rest–-ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Before leaving the cemetery I again wandered among the crosses that marked the graves of other believers who had died in Smyrna decades before. And I reflected that this cemetery was especially hallowed now because a martyr had been buried in its midst.

The collective grieving of the Christian community in Turkey has continued, and this past Saturday, April 28, a memorial service for the three martyrs was held at the Anglican Church near our apartment. The church was packed when I arrived, and I had to stand for the three-hour service. Taped to the walls were the pictures of the three men–-youthful, handsome, full of God’s joy and love. (Their pictures can be seen here.)

Personal remembrances, worship, and the ministry of the word comforted those who were gathered, and the sweet presence of the Lord filled the sanctuary. The most memorable part of the service occurred when the widows of Tilman and Necati shared their hearts with the congregation. Their words of forgiveness for these senseless acts to their loved ones have demonstrated the compassion of Christ to a nation searching for truth and reality at this time.

Tears came to everyone’s eyes as Necati’s young son sang “Jesus loves the Little Children of the World.” Special prayer followed for these families as they stood directly under a wooden banner inscribed with Genesis 28:17: “This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.” These three martyrs have passed through that gate of heaven. Necati, Uğur, and Tilman have received their white robes, their crowns, and their palm branches. God has wiped away the tears of sorrow and pain experienced in the final hours of their earthly lives.

Although I never met them, my life has been profoundly affected by their witness.

How can someone not be changed when he has been in the presence of martyrs?

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Funeral of Necati Aydin

April 25, 2007
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From the Protestant church of Smyrna

April 25, 2007

A letter to the Global Church from The Protestant Church of Smyrna (Izmir, Turkey)

Dear friends,
This past week has been filled with much sorrow. Many of you have heard by now of our devastating loss here in an event that took place in Malatya, a Turkish province 300 miles northeast of Antioch, the city where believers were first called Christians (Acts 11:26).

On Wednesday morning, April 18, 2007, 46-year-old German missionary and father of three Tilman Geske prepared to go to his office, kissing his wife goodbye taking a moment to hug his son and give him the priceless memory, “Goodbye, son. I love you.”

Tilman rented an office space from Zirve Publishing where he was preparing notes for the new Turkish Study Bible. Zirve was also the location of the Malatya Evangelist Church office. A ministry of the church, Zirve prints and distributes Christian literature to Malatya and nearby cities in Eastern Turkey. In another area of town, 35-year-old Pastor Necati Aydin, father of two, said goodbye to his wife, leaving for the office as well. They had a morning Bible Study and prayer meeting that some other believers in town would also be attending. Ugur Yuksel likewise made his way to the Bible study.

None of these three men knew that what awaited them at the Bible study was the ultimate testing and application of their faith, which would conclude with their entrance into glory to receive their crown of righteousness from Christ and honor from all the saints awaiting them in the Lord’s presence.

On the other side of town, ten young men all under 20 years old put into place final arrangements for their ultimate act of faith, living out their love for Allah and hatred of infidels who they felt undermined Islam. On Resurrection Sunday, five of these men had been to a by-invitation-only evangelistic service that Pastor Necati and his men had arranged at a hotel conference room in the city. The men were known to the believers as “seekers.”

No one knows what happened in the hearts of those men as they listened to the gospel. Were they touched by the Holy Spirit? Were they convicted of sin? Did they hear the gospel in their heart of hearts? Today we only have the beginning of their story.

These young men, one of whom is the son of a mayor in the Province of Malatya, are part of a tarikat, or a group of “faithful believers” in Islam. Tarikat membership is highly respected here; it’s like a fraternity membership. In fact, it is said that no one can get into public office without membership in a tarikat. These young men all lived in the same dorm, all preparing for university entrance exams.

The young men got guns, breadknives, ropes and towels ready for their final act of service to Allah. They knew there would be a lot of blood. They arrived in time for the Bible Study, around 10 o’clock. They arrived, and apparently the Bible Study began. Reportedly, after Necati read a chapter from the Bible the assault began. The boys tied Ugur, Necati, and Tilman’s hands and feet to chairs and as they videoed their work on their cellphones, they tortured our brothers for almost three hours.

Details of the torture (caution: graphic)
Tilman was stabbed 156 times, Necati 99 times and Ugur’s stabs were too numerous to count. They were disemboweled, and their intestines sliced up in front of their eyes. They were emasculated and watched as those body parts were destroyed. Fingers were chopped off, their noses and mouths and anuses were sliced open. Possibly the worst part was watching as their brothers were likewise tortured. Finally, their throats were sliced from ear to ear, heads practically decapitated.

Neighbors in workplaces near the printhouse said later they had heard yelling, but assumed the owners were having a domestic argument so they did not respond.

Meanwhile, another believer, Gokhan, and his wife had a leisurely morning. He slept in till 10, ate a long breakfast and finally around 12:30 he and his wife arrived at the office. The door was locked from the inside, and his key would not work. He phoned and though it had connection on his end he did not hear the phone ringing inside. He called cell phones of his brothers and finally Ugur answered his phone. “We are not at the office. Go to the hotel meeting. We are there. We will come there,” he said cryptically.

As Ugur spoke Gokhan heard in the telephone’s background weeping and a strange snarling sound. He phoned the police, and the nearest officer arrived in about five minutes. He pounded on the door, “Police, open up!” Initially the officer thought it was a domestic disturbance. At that point they heard another snarl and a gurgling moan. The police understood that sound as human suffering, prepared the clip in his gun and tried over and over again to burst through the door. One of the frightened assailants unlocked the door for the policeman, who entered to find a grisly scene.

Tilman and Necati had been slaughtered, practically decapitated with their necks slit from ear to ear. Ugur’s throat was likewise slit and he was barely alive. Three assailants in front of the policeman dropped their weapons.

Meanwhile Gokhan heard a sound of yelling in the street. Someone had fallen from their third story office. Running down, he found a man on the ground, whom he later recognized, named Emre Gunaydin. He had massive head trauma and, strangely, was snarling. He had tried to climb down the drainpipe to escape, and losing his balance had plummeted to the ground. It seems that he was the main leader of the attackers. Another assailant was found hiding on a lower balcony.

To untangle the web we need to back up six years. In April 2001, the National Security Council of Turkey (Milli Guvenlik Kurulu) began to consider evangelical Christians as a threat to national security, on equal footing as Al Quaida and PKK terrorism. Statements made in the press by political leaders, columnists and commentators have fueled a hatred against missionaries who they claim bribe young people to change their religion.

After that decision in 2001, attacks and threats on churches, pastors and Christians began. Bombings, physical attacks, verbal and written abuse are only some of the ways Christians are being targeted. Most significant is the use of media propaganda.

From December 2005, after having a long meeting regarding the Christian threat, the wife of Former Prime Minister Ecevit, historian Ilber Ortayli, Professor Hasan Unsal, politician Ahmet Tan and writer/propogandist Aytunc Altindal, each in their own profession began a campaign to bring the public’s attention to the looming threat of Christians who sought to “buy their children’s souls.” Hidden cameras in churches have taken church service footage and used it sensationally to promote fear and antagonism toward Christianity.

In an official televised response from Ankara, the Interior Minister of Turkey smirked as he spoke of the attacks on our brothers. Amid public outrage and protests against the event and in favor of freedom of religion and freedom of thought, media and official comments ring with the same message, “We hope you have learned your lesson. We do not want Christians here.”

It appears that this was an organized attack initiated by an unknown adult tarikat leader. As in the Hrant Dink murder in January 2007, and a Catholic priest Andrea Santoro in February 2006, minors are being used to commit religious murders because public sympathy for youth is strong and they face lower penalties than an adult convicted of the same crime. Even the parents of these children are in favor of the acts. The mother of the 16-year-old boy who killed the Catholic priest Andrea Santoro looked at the cameras as her son was going to prison and said, “he will serve time for Allah.”

The young men involved in the killing are currently in custody. Today news reported that they would be tried as terrorists, so their age would not affect the strict penalty. Assailant Emre Gunaydin is still in intensive care. The investigation centers around him and his contacts and they say will fall apart if he does not recover.

The Church in Turkey responded in a way that honored God as hundreds of believers and dozens of pastors flew in as fast as they could to stand by the small church of Malatya and encourage the believers, take care of legal issues, and represent Christians to the media.

When Susanne Tilman expressed her wish to bury her husband in Malatya, the Governor tried to stop it, and when he realized he could not stop it, a rumor was spread that “it is a sin to dig a grave for a Christian.” In the end, in an undertaking that should be remembered in Christian history forever, the men from the church in Adana (near Tarsus), grabbed shovels and dug a grave for their slain brother in an untended hundred-year-old Armenian graveyard. Ugur was buried by his family in an Alevi Muslim ceremony in his hometown of Elazig, his believing fiance watching from the shadows as his family and friends refused to accept in death the faith Ugur had so long professed and died for.

Necati’s funeral took place in his hometown of Izmir, the city where he came to faith. The darkness does not understand the light. Though the churches expressed their forgiveness for the event, Christians were not to be trusted. Before they would load the coffin onto the plane from Malatya, it went through two separate x-ray exams to make sure it was not loaded with explosives. This is not a usual procedure for Muslim coffins.

Necati’s funeral was a beautiful event. Like a glimpse of heaven, thousands of Turkish Christians and missionaries came to show their love for Christ, and their honor for this man chosen to die for Christ. Necati’s wife, Shemsa, told the world, “His death was full of meaning, because he died for Christ and he lived for Christ… Necati was a gift from God. I feel honored that he was in my life, I feel crowned with honor. I want to be worthy of that honor.”

Boldly the believers took their stand at Necati’s funeral, facing the risks of being seen publicly and likewise becoming targets. As expected, the anti-terror police attended and videotaped everyone attending the funeral for their future use.

The service took place outside at Buca Baptist church, and he was buried in a small Christian graveyard in the outskirts of Izmir.

Two assistant Governors of Izmir were there solemnly watching the event from the front row. Dozens of news agencies were there documenting the events with live news and photographs. Who knows the impact the funeral had on those watching? This is the beginning of their story as well. Pray for them.

In an act that hit front pages in the largest newspapers in Turkey, Susanne Tilman in a television interview expressed her forgiveness. She did not want revenge, she told reporters. “Oh God, forgive them for they know not what they do,” she said, wholeheartedly agreeing with the words of Christ on Calvary (Luke 23:34).

In a country where blood-for-blood revenge is as normal as breathing, many, many reports have come to the attention of the church of how this comment of Susanne Tilman has changed lives. One columnist wrote of her comment, “She said in one sentence what 1000 missionaries in 1000 years could never do.”

The missionaries in Malatya will most likely move out, as their families and children have become publicly identified as targets to the hostile city. The remaining 10 believers are in hiding. What will happen to this church, this light in the darkness? Most likely it will go underground. Pray for wisdom, that Turkish brothers from other cities will go to lead the leaderless church. Should we not be concerned for that great city of Malatya, a city that does not know what it is doing? (Jonah 4:11)

When our Pastor Fikret Bocek went with a brother to give a statement to the Security Directorate on Monday they were ushered into the Anti-Terror Department. On the wall was a huge chart covering the whole wall listing all the terrorist cells in Izmir, categorized. In one prominent column were listed all the evangelical churches in Izmir. The darkness does not understand the light. “These that have turned the world upside down are come hither also.” (Acts 17:6)

Please pray for the Church in Turkey. “Don’t pray against persecution, pray for perseverence,” urges Pastor Fikret Bocek.

The Church is better having lost our brothers; the fruit in our lives, the renewed faith, the burning desire to spread the gospel to quench more darkness in Malatya …all these are not to be regretted. Pray that we stand strong against external opposition and especially pray that we stand strong against internal struggles with sin, our true debilitating weakness.

This we know: Christ Jesus was there when our brothers were giving their lives for Him. He was there, like He was when Stephen was being stoned in the sight of Saul of Tarsus.

Someday the video of the deaths of our brothers may reveal more to us about the strength that we know Christ gave them to endure their last cross, about the peace the Spirit of God endowed them with to suffer for their beloved Savior. But we know He did not leave their side. We know their minds were full of Scripture strengthening them to endure, as darkness tried to subdue the unsubduable Light of the Gospel. We know, in whatever way they were able, with a look or a word, they encouraged one another to stand strong. We know they knew they would soon be with Christ.

We don’t know the details. We don’t know the kind of justice that will or will not be served on this earth.

But we pray– and urge you to pray– that someday at least one of those five boys will come to faith because of the testimony in death of Tilman Geske, who gave his life as a missionary to his beloved Turks, and the testimonies in death of Necati Aydin and Ugur Yuksel, the first martyrs for Christ out of the Turkish Church.

Reported by Darlene N. Bocek (24 April 2007)

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Art Buchwald, R.I.P.

January 25, 2007

Art Buchwald
Art Buchwald (October 20, 1925 – January 17, 2007)

I only met Art Buchwald one time. But I will never forget it. Or him.

It was the spring of 1974 – my senior year in high school. This was when the country was beginning to understand the enormity of Watergate.

Although Mr. Buchwald’s thrice weekly syndicated column appeared in some 400 newspapers, our local paper was not one of them. I had to go to the school library to read it in “The Washington Post”. This was when you got your news through print, instead of a computer screen.

I loved Mr. Buchwald’s satirical style. It was clever, biting, inventive, topical and funny. Incredibly funny. Like a contemporary Jonathan Swift. This was before “Saturday Night Live” came along and reduced satire to kindergarten drivel.

Because I was on the high school newspaper, and under Mr. Buchwald’s spell, I copied his style for my column. The students and faculty seemed to enjoy it. The school administration was less impressed. Perhaps because they were so often my foils.

I quickly landed in trouble, where I stayed my entire senior year.

I don’t remember where the idea came from, but I decided to write Mr. Buchwald a letter, asking if I could interview him for our school newspaper. I mailed it off and a few days later started checking the mailbox for a reply. This was when people wrote letters, and communication was not instantaneous.

Soon, the reply arrived. Mr. Buchwald would love to have me interview him. When would I like to come to Washington, DC and meet with him?

I had intended to interview him over the phone. This was when there was only one phone system for the whole country. And long distance was something like $2 a minute, instead of coming free with your cell plan. But the chance to meet him in person?

I excitedly showed the letter to my parents. We lived outside Pittsburgh, so it would be a four-hour drive. Both of my parents worked, and taking time off from work to chauffeur me to Washington, DC was unlikely. This was before time was cheap, and gas was not.

After researching the cost of an airplane ticket, and making arrangements with Mr. Buchwald’s secretary, a date was set. My parents wrote a letter that I took to school, requesting special permission to miss a day of school without being sick. The administration was very
supportive of my request.

For the next few weeks, I went to the library and researched Mr. Buchwald’s past. This was before the Internet or Google did the work for you. I learned about his troubled youth. His service in World War II. His time spent in Paris as a correspondent. How he met his wife, Ann. The children they adopted. How he eschewed celebrity, including having a listed telephone number. I even secured a copy of “Sheep on the Runway”, a play he had written for Broadway four years earlier. I wrote and re-wrote my questions.

At last, the day came. I packed my reporter’s notebook, two pound portable cassette player, extra batteries, a bulky Polaroid instamatic camera, plus a Kodak 110 camera, and extra film for each, into a small satchel and headed to the airport.

Mr. Buchwald’s office was just a few blocks from the White House. I made my way to the office and was warmly greeted by his secretary. His door was partly ajar and I could hear him talking on the phone. Nervousness set in as I practiced my lines. At last, it was time for “the interview”.

His secretary ushered me into his compact office. Mr. Buchwald came around from behind his desk and enthusiastically welcomed me. One would have thought he was visiting me. I found a plug for my cassette recorder, flipped open my book, and began asking my questions.

The interview soon became a conversation. You couldn’t help it. Art Buchwald was just that way in person. He was funny as all get out. And when he wasn’t laughing, he was smiling. He talked willingly of his run ins with presidential administrations and power brokers in Washington. I shared some of the problems I encountered. He encouraged me to hang in there. To not let “them” get the better of me.

At last, the interview ended. I got to ask all of my questions. And dozens more. He suffered through the many pictures with me, and the different cameras. He even took a picture of his secretary and me.

I headed back home, but didn’t really need a plane to fly high. My feature article appeared in the next issue, and was well received. But in the issue after that, I took Mr. Buchwald’s advice and went back to lampooning the administration. Because that’s what youth does. And Art Buchwald said it was okay.

My article went on to win the Duquesne University Scholastic Press Association Award for “Best Feature Article” in 1974. I went on with my life. And Art Buchwald went on with his.

I thought about him many times over the years. I was saddened by news last years of his illness. And was encouraged at his resilience. Last week, he finally lost his fight.

I was glad I got to meet Art Buchwald. Things change. But not always for the better. I am glad I have lived in my time – a time when a young person could write a letter to a hero, and they replied, in their own handwriting, making it possible for a once-in-a-lifetime dream to come true.

I lived in a time when giants walked the earth, and I didn’t realize it. Because they looked like us. And sometimes smoked cigars.

In that long ago interview, forgotten by everyone but me, Art Buchwald let me in on his secret, although I did not recognize it until his death: You have to grow up. But you don’t have to grow old.

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Boy triumphs over limitation

December 23, 2006

George Dennehy

George Dennehy has many reasons to be thankful. He has a loving family, a strong faith in God and an ability to play beautiful music with his toes. George Dennehy sits first chair in the cello section of the string orchestra at Oak Knoll Middle School in Hanover County (Virginia).

As he leans back slightly on a stool, the toes on George’s right foot move over the cello’s strings as the toes on his left foot control the bow.

George’s feet are his hands; his toes are his fingers. He was born with bilateral upper-limb deficiency, so he has no limbs beyond his shoulder blades.

He has learned to do almost everything with his feet — typing on the computer, eating, setting the table, opening doors, playing the cello.

In his dreams, though, George pictures himself the same as other people.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a dream where I didn’t have arms,” he said.

He’s curious about where he will go in life. When he was younger, he said he used to wonder why God chose him to go through life without arms.

But he doesn’t think like that much anymore.

“There’s some plan for me that God has, so I just . . . accept it and then work with it.”

Read entire November 23, 2006 Richmond Times-Dispatch article by Holly Prestidge here (includes video link).

Slideshow is here.

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