No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. - John Donne


Images that outrage.














Somalia, 1993 - locals drag the body of the pilot of a downed Blackhawk helicopter through the streets of their town as others jump up an down on the rotor blades of same helicopter.






















Multiple Middle Eastern Nations, 2001 - Following the September 11th attacks on the U.S., images are repeatedly broadcast of large groups of people celebrating the loss of American lives while burning our flag.


I'm sure one could go on for hours recalling such vivid memories - but these are two that stand out most readily in my mind at this point in time. Events that surely made the blood of countless many boil and sickened the stomachs of countless more. And yet, as I sat watching the news at work last night, there were the images of a large crowd gathered outside of the White House. "USA! USA!" they chanted while holding signs boasting such clever slogans as, "Ding Dong - Bin Laden's Dead." And while they watched, I'm sure there was little sense of outrage in the hearts of most Americans. Why? Because "our team" won this time.
















Was Bin Laden's killing justified? Even necessary? I'm sure it's not a hard argument to make. But if we, who are so sickened by the celebration of death on foreign shores, are reduced to the same jubilation at the death of a man... are we any different than the ones who outrage us? It doesn't seem so in my mind.


Somewhere east of here people are watching that same news footage that I watched last night; and they are furious. They are no doubt making plans for how they can get vengeance for this outrageous behaviour. And so the circle will continue. Death for death. Righteous indignation for righteous indignation. One side will win, one side will lose. And in the end, we all will be the lesser for it.


The bell tolls for us all.

Very well, actually.
Thank you for asking.

Hi. My name's Tim. And I watch Survivor.

People at work are shocked when I want to watch it. I don't know if it's because of me or because of the show. Or both. Anyway.

This season of Survivor has suprised me. Not due to the scripted "suprises" in the show, mind you. Sure, the redemption island thing is new this year. And there have been some twists and turns involving that story line. But you kind of expect there to be curve balls after so many seasons. They have to do something to try to keep things fresh, I suppose.

No, the thing that's suprised me most this season is a redemption of a different kind. And I'll admit, at first it made me cringe. Not more than a couple episodes in, this guy Matty started to talk about Jesus. Now, that's not what made me cringe. I mean, I know lots of people who talk about Jesus. But I'm well familiar with the portayal of Christians in pop culture. From as far back as Jon Brennan on the Real World, most Christians in reality TV are basically caricatures who seem to alient people just by looking at them. So I expected the worst when Matty started talking about God's purpose for him in the game of Survivor every episode.

But while the dialogue has seemed a bit awkward at times, it also has seemed genuine. And while there have been a few people who've made fun of him on the show, there have also been a good number of people who've taken him seriously. Most recently, the lady eliminated from redemption island on tonight's episode said (before she left) that talking to Matty had made her realize how important faith is. She went on to say that she was looking forward to getting home and finding a church. Really.

Like I said, there are still moments when Matty says things that make me furrow my brow or shake my head. And there are still moments when the people on the show take little pokes at him. But for the most part, Survivor has done something that I haven't seen on television... maybe ever. They've given a prime time platform to a guy who, presumably, is trying to live his life the way God tells him to. Not preaching at every drop of the hat, just living.

I am impressed. I am humbled. I am inspired.

Go Matty.

Being understood is highly taken for granted, in my humble opinion. I don't mean the simple act of getting what someone is saying, logically speaking. I'm talking about that deeper level of understanding not only the statement made but also feeling the heart where it comes from. In our lifetime, we will all meet countless people who understand the words we say. But how many people will we truly connect with? How many people will know the words we're thinking - good, bad or indifferent - before they are even formed in our minds? Precious few.

Not to totally digress here, but this is one of my main issues with the whole "social network" culture we live in today. People have hundreds of "friends" who feel like they know them just because they can read a 2 sentence brain fart posted for all the world to see. But in reading someone's fleeting thoughts, in "liking" those thoughts or even in leaving a witty comment for all the world to see - we're not even scratching the surface.

Give me a real community any day. Keep the hundreds who will observe me from afar and give me 6 people to sit around a table and talk about nothing and everything over a meal together. Keep the many who will applaud me for taking a risk and give me the few who will step off the edge with me.

What goes on for more than half of the year, spans the hottest and most uncomfortable months and is generally something I would go without if I had the option?

a) Baseball Season
b) Lawn Mowing Season
c) Twice nightly Mr. Softee rounds in my neighborhood
d) All of the above

Hint: The answer is "D". Happy spring.

I can't even recall exactly how many years it's been now, can it be 10 or more? At any rate, today is the day my Grandpop Cosgrove died. We always thought it was just his style to go out on April fool's day. He was a joker like me.

Actually, the more stories I hear about him, the more I think that he and "grown-up" me would've gotten along really well. Not that we didn't get on when I was young, mind you. But I didn't really start drinking beer until I was in my late 20's, so I never got to have a drink with him. And he and my grandmom moved to Rehobeth sometime in my teenaged years, so I only saw him every couple months back then anyways. But I like to think that if he was still around today, and they still lived on Shallcross Avenue in Folcroft, we'd be the kind of guys who would meet up at Cheech-O's lounge and have a beer on my day off. Maybe we'd play a game of poker in my basement, or throw some darts.

I got my middle name, James, from my grandfather. But as I get older, I realize just how much more I got from him. I hope to see him again someday. We'll be the guys sitting on that distant shore in the sweet by and by... knocking back a cold one and fishing.

If you ever wondered where those plastic soda bottles and water bottles that you buy at Wawa end up, just take a walk down at the John Heinze Regfuge after there's been a decent rainfall. The banks of the Darby Creek and the adjacent marshlands are littered with hundreds of empty bottles, amongst the other trash. It's pretty gross, to tell you the truth.