Where we were and where I was

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That was a surprise.

Frankly, I didn’t want to join the chorus commemorating the 25th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the U.S. of A. on this date back in 2001. I was an editor for the late lamented Green Bay News-Chronicle that day, and I have my share of memories, as do all of us who lived through that day. This weekend brings the 25th anniversary of my first prescription for high blood pressure, a condition we discovered after I got worried about the chest pains I experienced while working on the Sept. 13 edition of the News-Chronicle. We had produced an Extra on Tuesday afternoon, the regular Wednesday morning paper, and it was time to consider what was going into Thursday’s paper when my internal alarms went off.

I have very strong opinions about the difference between the U.S. of A. of 2001 and where it stands today, and very mixed opinions about whether I want to go there in this space, and so I decided to peruse the archives to see what I was writing around the 20th anniversary back in 2021.

Surprise! Not a whisper. Instead I was focused on finishing a novel that I had been tinkering with for two or three years already. Enough was enough, and so I set myself a deadline to see if — after decades of meeting deadlines successfully in my news-gathering career — it would help to set a deadline in my novel writing. Spoiler alert: The novel is still not finished. Mind you, I have finished seven other books in the meantime, just not that one.

We also were focused on the newest member of our little clan. Summer had been born around July 20, we picked her out on Aug. 29, and she met Dejah and our cat Blackberry on Sept. 11. Those were sweet times.

The closest I came to addressing the historic date was three days later, and then it was only as I promoted a new edition of my first book of essays from 2010, Refuse to be Afraid. I concluded, “These are scary people who want us to be terrified. We used to call people like that terrorists; I still do … We need to overcome the fear and live in freedom. Otherwise, the terrorists have won.”

And I would add that it’s essential to love God and love our neighbors, remembering that we are 8 billion or so neighbors sharing this little orb in space.

How AI is affecting America’s mental health crisis

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The headline was “How AI is affecting America’s mental health crisis.” Wait, America has a mental health crisis? When did that happen? Where did it begin? Holy cow! How are we going to handle all of these crises at the same time?!?

If we are to believe the politicians and town criers, we have been in a constant state of crisis all our lives, all of it caused by an endless series of hobgoblins from which only they can save us.

And yet somehow we seem to muddle along day by day.

I shall now employ a writer’s cliche: turning to the dictionary definition. According to the American Heritage online dictionary, a crisis is “a crucial or decisive point or situation, especially a difficult or unstable situation involving an impending change.”

In other words, nearly every day we face a crucial turning point as we navigate a “difficult or unstable situation” and a potentially horrifying change that could happen any day now.

And yet, to quote the prophet Tom Petty, as I love to do, “Most things I worry about never happen anyway.” So — was it really a crisis or one of H.L. Mencken’s imaginary hobgoblins, again to cite another of my favorite quotes?

It’s a rhetorical question, of course. (I will trust you to look up the definition of “rhetorical question” on your own.) Things may be alarming in the Menckien sense, but we are not in crisis. We do not need the politicians and town criers to save us; they just say that to get the votes and clicks they need to carry on — vultures feasting on carrion (see what I did there?).

By the way, I did not depend on AI to write this little screed. The built-in AI wanted to finish my words and sentences for me — and I’m driving it crazy by not changing the spelling of the word “Menckien,” which I believe I may have just made up.

Hey, as long as someone (or AI) has already determined that it’s effective clickbait, why don’t I steal the headline for today’s blog? And speaking of clickbait, here’s an adorable photo of Summer as a puppy. If this post goes viral, we can blame it on artificial intelligence, the other party, and our plague of ongoing crises.

Fixing a hole

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Sunday morning was blessed. I could scarcely believe the difference.

I had been scaring myself lately when I checked at the end of the day to see how much time I had spent looking at my “smart” phone. Alarmingly, I had one day last week with more than six hours staring at the thing and another day with more than four hours.

Clearly I needed to fix the hole where the rain gets in and keeps my mind a-wandering where it will go. I started seeing the ways I was letting my “smart” phone control me, such as counting my steps in the ongoing effort to get my weight down to a more manageable level. I would feel bereft if I went for a walk and forgot the device, because I wouldn’t get “credit” for the steps. It occurred to me that in my younger days I had measured my progress by counting the number of laps I ran at a YMCA track that was 1/24th of a mile around. We were able to measure progress in the dark ages before “smart” phones were born.

I have decided to start putting quotes around the word “smart” phone, because it really is a device that does the opposite of making us smart. We are made stupid, anxious and angry when we pick that thing up and stare all day at that tiny television screen, the fount of knowledge that separates us from reality.

“Look up from the screen and see what’s happening, w.p.,” I said to myself. “Smell a rose. Write a poem. Get back in touch with who you are.”

Looking in from the outside, I saw a sedentary lump who stares at screens, big and little, for up to 10 of the precious 16 hours I am given each day. Time, time, time, see what’s become of me; I should be looking around for my possibilities. No — rather, I should start seizing the opportunities every day offers me.

I cried out for help: “Lord, I am addicted to the electronic light, help me start to use the electronics as a tool, not my master. After all, I only pick up my hammer when I need to hammer something, not all the time randomly all day. Let me pick up my writing tools when I need to write, not to see if I got any more Likes or wondering what might be on TV tonight because I don’t feel like working again.”

And so, Sunday morning I left the laptop and the phone in the charger during all the time before I left for church, and surprise! I gave myself extra time to practice for the service (I play guitar in the worship team), vacuum the dogs’ play area, and water the tomato plants, in addition to getting dressed.

With the screens kept off, I was able to be more intentional with the day. The real test is coming as I type this — turning on my tools only to do the work, will I be able to maintain self-control and stare at the screen only long enough to to maintain my website, do the routine clerical work for my part-time job, and work on my next books?

I liked this morning and this version of myself. I honestly felt more in touch with myself than usual, more attentive to the people and happenings around me. I hope and I pray that I end up liking the day. Will Aug. 2, 2026, turn out to be the day that the real w.p. bluhm finally came home to stay?