Steve Buttry lived a wonderful life and he lived a great death

Steve Buttry lived a fascinating life. His death a few weeks ago was tragic and sad as all deaths are, especially to the family who loved him, and to the many people who called him friend. His death was also intriguing, instructive and  provocative. Provocative, because I think Steve did a great and powerful good with how he LIVED death.

Steve and I considered each other dear friends even though we were actually together less than a dozen times. Our friendship was fueled by the digital age. We grew close through blogs, Twitter, and Facebook. Our bond became strong.

I deeply respected Steve’s determined efforts to move the stodgy newspaper industry into the 21st Century. He was outspoken when he needed to be. To my delight he tilted at more than a few windmills and he passionately cared for journalism. He did all that with unerring kindness, concern and attention to people’s feelings and emotions.

To be candid, I was lucky that Steve said nice things about me and my book in his compelling blog and in private forums. Steve and I had a comfortable mutual admiration society.

You don’t have to take my word about Steve’s successes and his impact. This salute from a student editor is heartwarming. Wonderful tributes are  here, here and here. And this incredible collection of salutes should tell you everything you need to know about Steve and his professional and human contributions.

Assuming I have established how well Steve lived an extraordinary life, let me travel the road less traveled (Steve would expect nothing less of me) and talk about what I find the intriguing and instructive part.

Steve was a deep believer in transparency before he got sick so it was unsurprising that when he faced his third bout with cancer he discussed it openly on Caring Bridge, Facebook and on his excellent blog. Steve especially impressed me with his constant gratitude for his life, his loves, his experiences and his friends. He eloquently wrote about all the gifts he received since he survived his first two cancers. His omnipresent optimism also fueled that particular blog.

The striking thing about Steve’s path to his death was his amazing commitment to his relationships. His devoted, funny and strong wife Mimi could never have doubted Steve’s love, and her love for him shone like a guiding star.

Last August, Steve and I shared breakfast at a suburban hotel outside Minneapolis. We both knew his path was growing short and I brought the relatively fresh scars of my late wife’s death to the table. We both shot straight and hid nothing. Before Mimi joined us, Steve told me he was spending a great deal of time writing letters to his three sons and Mimi. These were not dashed-off letters. They were comprehensive stories about the family, his interaction with each of them and reflections on his deep love for each of them.

Steve did the same for his friends with far greater brevity. A few weeks ago I received a delightful two paragraph letter from Steve thanking me for being his friend. Apparently several other friends received similar notes. My note thanked me for what I had done for him, wished we had known each other better and concluded with some nice compliments.

Now to the provocative part. Here is how Steve began that note. “I’d rather die suddenly, but a slow death does let you leave with less unsaid, so I am writing letters to some friends.” I responded with this:

Thank you for your brilliant and kind letter. Writing these took guts.

I was a little surprised that you said you would prefer to die suddenly. From afar it seems to me you are LIVING a perfect death.

Colleagues and friends have been able to honor you in several different ways. You had a wonderful opportunity to share with and embrace your family and your devoted wife.

I think I have told you that the greatest thing my Dad ever taught me was how to die. Well, friend you are my new model. Your transparency, your courage and your integrity are fantastic examples for all of us.

Now that gentle Steve has passed there is a small tinge of regret for telling him how he ought to feel, but it is a small tinge.

As I said in the first paragraph, I think Steve did a great and powerful good with how he LIVED death. I wanted him to realize that, in my view, he accomplished so much with that death.

Steve has left us with three instructive lessons.

He fashioned a model of strength that any and all of us should strive to follow. His courage, his candor, his attention to to others and his selflessness set a standard that I pray I can match when the time comes.

He allowed people to honor him. LSU’s Manship school honored him with a scholarship in his name, and he was awarded a Chairman’s Citation from the National Press Foundation in 2017. Certainly those honors should have pleased Steve, but they also allowed so many givers to formally thank him for his great contributions.

Steve taught us to attend to relationships in an intimate and professional way. His wife, his sons and his friends are not going to forget his final communications.

I remain surprised by Steve’s wish for a more sudden death. I have a dear friend who lost his wife about five years ago. Dan Untiedt;s  wife Ginny’s car  inexplicably hit a tree and she died suddenly. Dan was incredibly distraught and dearly wished he would have had some time with Ginny before she died as I had with my wife before she passed three years later.

I told Dan shortly after my wife died, that a sudden death is horrible, awful and terrible. I also told him a lingering death is horrible, awful and terrible. They are simply different.

Steve Buttry’s slow death must have been painful, horrible, awful, terrible and a loathsome burden. But for my money one of his many legacies will be the great lessons he taught us with the way he died.

God bless Steve Buttry’s soul and his outstanding family.

 

Cleaning off my desk after an eight month hiatus

I am going to revive a 40-year-old writing approach of mine.

When I was an absurdly young managing editor in Ypsilanti MI. at the now defunct Ypsilanti Press, I used to write a twice weekly column. I frequently “cleaned off my desk.” It was a device I used to address a bunch of interesting ideas I didn’t think deserved an entire column.

You will find this blog post to be a collection of thoughts mainly about my numerous travels since my May 10 retirement.  I hope you find this fun. I am inspired by Mark Twain’s famous quote, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.”

  1. Alaska’s majesty overwhelms. Northern Minnesota, Western and Northern Michigan and several parts of Arizona entrance you with their beauty. But Alaska overpowers you. Glaciers , snow-capped mountains and massive forests that go on forever impress you and enrich you in a way that makes nature and God one.
  2. The pride, loyalty and commitment to their state by Alaska residents inspires. Everyone we met seemed like an impressive and commissioned salesperson for Alaska. Residents can speak candidly about their political and financial problems, but their sympathy for the “lower 48”  and our failure to measure up is amusing and heart-warming. Their unbridled enthusiasm for everything Alaska is palpable.
  3. Perhaps the greatest highlight for many of my fellow passengers on an Inner Passage cruise of Alaska were the countless frolicking humpback whales we saw. Not me. I was mesmerized by the human mammals mesmerized by the whales. Nothing turns mature adults into crazed sixth graders like whales leaping and fluking in the water.
  4. I have attended Conspire an annual summer spiritual conference three times. It is conducted by my favorite theologian, Father Richard Rohr in either Santa Fe or Albuquerque. No preaching here, but what always amazes me at these conferences is the deep level of “searching” I see among the participants. The thirst and longing are obvious to the point that I believe ‘searching” for meaning is a primal drive.
  5. Visited Chicago for the first time in many years this past summer. It may be the Second City, but its vibrancy and strength energizes. If you are there, don’t miss the Chicago River Architectural tour. It is a tremendous way to appreciate the city’s architectural imagination and excellence. You can also learn that Mrs. O’Leary’s cow got a bad rap, but that fire helped make  Chicago an architectural wonder because the city got to start over.
  6. Amsterdam teems with hipness. Diversity is a key part of the fabric of the city and there is a comfortable swagger that screams “cool.” The canals fascinate. I never knew that for about  $700,000 you can live on a houseboat on many of those canals.
  7. I am not a big museum guy, but if you are ever in Amsterdam the Rijks Museum and the Van Gogh museums are stunning.
  8. Almost everyone knows about Amsterdam’s “coffee shops,” but the most shocking thing a visitor notices is bicycles. Yes, bicycles. They zoom through traffic like out-of-control cheetahs and motorists will tell you bicyclists think they own the road. Many, many people travel to work or shop on a bike and their interests are represented by a strong bike lobby whose power is, in the eyes of cab drivers, “ridiculous.”  The daily dance between cars, pedestrians and bikes drove my blood pressure into the stratosphere.
  9. The “world’s steepest cog railway” up to Mt Pilatus near Lucerne is a scary, invigorating experience. Mt. Pilatus is impressive in its own right but the cog wheel train seems to teeter on the hill more than a few times. It is a “must-do” in Switzerland.
  10. Making a connection to Phoenix out of JFK airport is very close to my blasphemous vision of hell.

And that’s how I spent my vacation!

Tim J. McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home.”

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Only we are going to fix our problems, one volunteer at a time

We all know bad stuff and good stuff happens to people. But our reactions to those things often differ.

Many people live their lives in gratitude for all the good things they have.  Other people tend to downplay the good things in their life and constantly lust for more. And there are people who have a great deal, clamor for more and are convinced they are smarter, better looking and more talented than the people who have less. Barry Switzer and Jim Hightower are credited with saying “He was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple.” I always credit that quote to my youngest brother, David, but the point is many view good things as something they earned.

People who deal with bad things often accept that bad stuff happens and they just need to roll with the punches. Others need to blame someone such as God, their rotten parents and/or the government. Those carping complainers shake their fists at this cruel world and fault everyone except themselves. Just this past weekend I said some reckless, insensitive things to a couple of close friends. There were no excuses to be had. I was a jerk plain and simple. I apologized in a text and will rely on forgiveness and our longtime friendship to heal the problem. People who can’t own their screw ups  fail to accept the truth. As my insightful wife, Candace, declares so eloquently, “our troubles are usually an inside job.”

I recently read an article that contended that a tremendous number of Americans believe authoritarian behavior is the answer to our challenges. The author wrote, “Authoritarianism, by which I mean Americans’ inclination to authoritarian behavior. When political scientists use the term authoritarianism, we are not talking about dictatorships but about a worldview. People who score high on the authoritarian scale value conformity and order, protect social norms, and are wary of outsiders. And when authoritarians feel threatened, they support aggressive leaders and policies.”

That frightens me. I like some order as much as the next guy, but I do not believe our problems are caused by a vengeful God, parents or the government. I believe some people live dangerous lifestyles, don’t pursue enough education, refuse to embrace technology, but mostly I believe good things happen in this world and bad things happen, just because. To quote Forrest Gump “It happens.”

I especially refuse to believe that there is some giant hand in the sky or a  commanding government that can erode civic liberties and fix everything. I am reminded of a great ongoing Saturday Night Live bit performed by Kenan Thompson during the Great Recession several years ago. Thompson would rant and rave at some invisible force he called “they”  and scream “Fix It, Fix it, Fix it.” Nobody ever appeared from the ether to “fix it.”

I reject fear, authoritarianism and hate as viable “fixes” to our country’s problems. I subscribe to Gandhi’s famous admonition,If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change.” That has been popularized as “Be the change you want to see in the world,” and it is the only way we can improve things.

My wife Candace was so distraught over the refugee ban this weekend she went to church and sponsored a Mexican child for more more money than was asked. She took action to change the world for the better. Two of my dear friends volunteer for that program, Casa Franciscana Outreach at our church. They give countless hours to a program the improves the lot of people in Guaymas Mexico. Another friend of mine has spent years finding guardians for struggling children in his small Michigan town. Another friend spends hours sitting with and talking with hospice patients to relieve the burdens of their loving caregivers.

I, and you, know thousands of people like these who don’t rail at the condition of the world, or blame God or the government. They do something themselves to fix our society.

All of us pulling together to extinguish fear and hate strikes me as a better solution to whatever ails us.

 

 

Relaunch of my blog and answering the question, why do it?

Anti-climax has its place I suppose. This post was originally going to serve as my reentry into the blogosphere. News events prompted me to change that plan with a well-received blog post about Meryl Streep and Donald Trump.

Before that, I last posted a regular blog entry in mid-May as I retired from the Walter Cronkite School at Arizona State University.

I promised in that last post that during a planned hiatus, I would decide if I was going to continue the blog and exactly what form it would take if I did continue. I also needed to sort out why and whether I might continue.

This blog was born as McGuire on Life, Disability and Grief in August of 2014 out of three needs. A) I needed a broader canvas for my thoughts and feelings than my blog McGuire on Media offered me. B) I wanted a forum on disability to discuss my book, “Some People Even Take Them Home.” C) I needed to bare my soul about my grief after my late wife, Jean Fannin McGuire died in June of 2014.

My hope was that my personal experiences might offer comfort at the same time I provoked people to think deeply about grief and disability. I am convinced personal stories intrigue, stimulate and educate.

Contemplating the relaunch of the blog forced me to confront why I should do it. The truth is writing the blog on any kind of a regular schedule is perilously close to work and I just retired from that practice.

Rumination led me to realize that writing is not really work for me. It’s how I think. I add flesh and blood to all the weird ramblings in my head by writing. I need to write.

I also need to touch people. Few things make me as happy as the realization that my writing touched someone. My book, “Some People Even Take Them Home”  did not sell near as many copies as I’d like. Yet, writing that book is one of the most satisfying experiences of my life. I know it affected some people profoundly. For a writer, all you really need is to affect one person.

I admit to a deep desire to encourage people to think through issues and prompt them see things in a new light. I completely understand my opinions are my  opinions and I am wrong a lot. Writing on a public blog allows the give and take from an audience that will make you painfully aware of your errors in judgment and will applaud your successes.

So that’s why I am relaunching the blog. I changed the name to McGuire on Life so that all the old subjects are fair game, but I can also broaden my canvas to include travel, retirement and the people I meet on those new adventures.

I am still disabled. I still have a disabled son. I still think a lot about illness and grief even though I have found a delightful new love. Those topics will remain a part of this blog.

After I retired, I needed new business cards. My new card says Tim J. McGuire, Life Enthusiast.

At root, that is who I am.  To the frequent consternation of the two women I have lived with, I wake up every morning bubbling and happy and usually stay that way all day.

We are at the point in American history where too many people are  struggling to be enthusiastic about their spirituality, their politics and their futures. I don’t propose a Pollyanna approach. If I were to redo those business cards I might make it  “Realistic Life Enthusiast.”

I hope you will find that describes these blog posts.

Tim J. McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Speaking truth to bullies

My plan was to prepare several new posts for the relaunch of my blog with a new name, McGuire on Life. I was going to explain what I have been doing for the last eight months and where I want to take the blog now.

I still want to do that and I will in the coming days. However, the Meryl Streep/Donald Trump contretemps along with an intriguing question from my wife forced my hand.

By now, most people know that arguably the best actress of our time accepted the Cecil DeMille  Lifetime Achievement award from the Hollywood Foreign Press Association Sunday with a lamentation about the President elect’ s lack of empathy.

Streep told the audience that the heartbreaking event of the year was “that moment when the person asking to sit in the most respected seat in our country imitated a disabled reporter. Someone he outranked in privilege, power and the capacity to fight back.”

Naturally, Donald Trump reacted the way all bullies do. He attacked by calling Streep overrated, he denied and he lied. He said he never mocked a disabled person.  Please watch this video and tell me Trump was not mocking Serge Kovaleski. This denial shocks and appalls. E. J. Montini, columnist for the Arizona Republic  wrote “But to continue denying irrefutable video evidence is bizarre at least and pathological at worst.”

Social media blew up Sunday night after the awards ceremony.  Twitter and Facebook was full of support for Streep’s courage and attacks charging she abused her position and opportunity. My wife, Candace, was passionate and immediately praised Streep on Facebook. As we went to bed she asked “Are you afraid to speak out against Trump?” I answered absolutely not, but the  question was not inappropriate because I have tried to keep a low profile about the President-elect on social media.

I have some bedrock beliefs and my trust in the American democratic process is one of them. This election did not go my way and that’s happened fairly often in my 45 years of voting. The people have spoken and so be it. I have not been comfortable bellyaching about the results on social media. No matter how big a mistake I believe was made, I think a good citizen should give the process a chance.

As I pondered my wife’s question and watched people defending and berating Meryl Streep, I realized something crucial about those bedrock beliefs of mine. The greatest is that we must love our brothers and sisters and treat them all with respect. I worried about this issue on November 7, the day before the election. I wrote this on Facebook.

“If you are still undecided please read this Washington Post story. As a disabled man and the father of a developmentally disabled man, I have taken this election very personally since Donald Trump mocked the disabled reporter from the New York Times. This story tells us he has obviously not learned his lesson. Is his horrible treatment of the disabled and other struggling Americans a reason to vote against the man? I believe it is. There are lots of ways to value life.”

I wrote then that I have taken this issue very personally. You see, Serge Kovaleski and I are probably the only two journalists in America with Arthrogriposis Multicongenita, a rare disease that literally means “curved joints.”  So yeah, when Trump mocked Kovaleski I saw a lot of mocking from my past, like the time three second graders made fun of the way I walked. Those little boys and Trump enraged me.

Meryl Streep totally nailed why this behavior from the leader of the free world is so dangerous and concerning when she said, “And this instinct, to humiliate when it’s modeled by someone in the public platform, by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody’s life. Because it kinda gives permission for other people to do the same thing.”

I am petrified that the new President’s abuse of everyone who disagrees with him, especially people who face life’s struggles, is going to spark an epidemic of mean-spirited ugly attacks. There is already evidence of that.

I do business with a man about once a month. We have become friendly. He told me a few weeks ago he voted for Trump “because things have to change.” That is his political opinion. As long as he’s talking about health care, education and foreign relations, no matter how much I  disagree, I will respect it.

But if the change that man and others want is the right and ability to bully the less fortunate in our society, I am going to fight those people with all my strength. And, I am going to vigorously support brave people with a real voice like Meryl Streep when they call for our leader to model civility, kindness and empathy.

My wife ‘s pointed question has helped me realize that politics is politics, but protecting those who need protecting is a higher calling that deserves my voice and Meryl Streep’s.

Tim J. McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance.