Never Regret Something That Once Made You Smile

As I've gotten older, I think I have followed the pattern many others have followed: I've tried to "mellow," and to some extent I have succeeded. Unlike others my age, given my circumstances, I may have held on to a few of the more liberal tendencies longer than have my contemporaries, but in any case I have made it an effort to learn, to grow, even if it is not always linear. To that extent, I have cut back on my drinking in recent years: I never let alcohol get too out of control, I've never been arrested or faced a DUI or anything of that nature, yet in years gone by I have to admit, I could put down a few and come back for more. As I have aged, my alcohol consumption has gone down a bit, and most likely will continue to diminish. So what that means is that when I do choose to drink, there is a bit more meaning behind it than when I was a youngster.

Tonight, I had a few. I did not get plowed, I did not drive, but I did feel relaxed when I decided to call it quits and go back to my hotel room (a quaint cottage in Oregon off of Highway 58, The Cascade Motel). The bar was a dive bar by any account, young Oregonians playing pool and music and smoking inside (yes, evidently that is still allowed in parts of the US). I was about to leave, when I noticed a number of coasters tacked to the wall behind me, all of which had various words of wisdom penned to them. Some were absurd, some less than what I would like to post here, but one stood out for me:

"Never Regret Something That Once Made You Smile"

I'm sorry that I could not read the author's name, yet I have to admit it struck me nonetheless. "Never regret something that once made you smile." How simple, yet how beautiful. How many times have we done something we enjoyed, something that made us feel happy, something that made us feel connected with the world or with another person, only to be told later that we should regret what we have done? How many times has religion, or friends, or some notion of "ethics" told us after the fact that what we did was remiss, regrettable, wrong?

I'm not proud of every decision I have made in my life. Like all human beings, there are things in my past which are checkered, things which would not stand up as G-rated in Disney court, mistakes I have made, yet what does that matter? I can truly say that in my entire life, I have never forced anybody in to anything he/she did not want to do, and with that in mind, why should I regret something I have done in the past? Why should I regret something that in the moment was right for both of us?

People will judge us--me in this case--by their own standards. I had two professionals this last year who felt they were anointed by God himself to decide what was right or wrong, yet all I can say to that is rubbish. (Actually, my choice of words is stronger, though again, as I get older, I regret when I must choose profanity to express my point.) Why do others feel they have a right to judge what happens in an individual's life or in his heart?

I've done some things in my past that made me smile and yet which, if I were to explain them here, would not sound G-rated. So what? I can honestly say that I have never done anything against another's will, and with that in mind, I'll choose not to regret those things that have made me smile.

Bush Does Something Right

As you can probably tell, I'm definitely not a huge fan of George Bush Jr., but IMHO he did something right yesterday. On 23 Dec 2008, Bush pardoned Charles Winters. Most of us, myself included, have (had) no idea who Charles Winters was, but something in the headline enticed me so I clicked it. Winters was born a Boston Irish Protestant who went on to become a produce exporter. No big deal, except that along the way he also supplied three B-17 bombers to the fledgling state of Israel, bombers which by many accounts were key to allowing Israel to win the 1948 Arab-Israeli war. Winters was later convicted of violating the US Neutrality Act, and served 18 months in federal prison, after which he went on to live a quiet, anonymous life until his death in 1984. You can read more about his story elsewhere, but there are two points that fascinate me:

1. How did an ordinary man, a John Doe by any account, pull off such an accomplishment? Arguably, what he, along with two others, did turned the tide in the war for an independent Jewish state. These were ordinary people, commoners not famous or rich or powerful, yet the three of them may very well have had a pivotal role in the birth of a nation.
2. How can something this miraculous not be better known? I admit, I don't always remember all the historical facts I would like to, but I usually at least vaguely recall hearing of things such as this, even if I do not remember all the details, names or dates. For that matter, even Winters's own son did not know about his father's accomplishments until after his death.

I'm not going to begin to say that I can understand or answer either of the above. In particular, the second question is one which I have long pondered: How can history be so selective in terms of what it chooses to herald or to bury?

Everybody has heard of Francis Gary Powers, the CIA U2 pilot shot down in 1960 over Sverdlovsk, smack dab in the middle of the Soviet Union. Virtually nobody, however knows the story of McKone and Olmsted, the two survivors of the Soviet shootdown of an RB-47 in international waters just one month after the Powers incident. In both cases, the survivors were held and interrogated by the Soviets then released many months later.

Why is it that one of the stories is known by every schoolchild, yet the second one, almost identical, is an enigma? The only key difference I can see is that Powers was "caught red-handed" in the sense he was clearly over the Soviet Union, while the RB-47 was shotdown in international waters. Aside from that, the stories are almost identical. In any case, I'll use this chance to herald in my own way three unknown heroes: Charles Winters, John McKone, and Bruce Olmsted.