Better Angels of our Nature: to be human

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.” Abraham Lincoln spoke these words while contemplating leading a country through what might have been the darkest days it would ever face. He then spoke of the “better angels of our nature” and I am inspired and marvel at his optimism. At times the concept can be a difficult one to grasp, but I am sure we all have had at least one moment of clarity when the better angels of human nature have been apparent, when the horrors of this world melt away in a display of one person reaching out to another, not for gain or recognition, not because they would want the same, but just because they saw another person and answered a call. We are not enemies. We are all in this together and most of us are struggling, or have, or will, and when we are really listening to the better angels of our nature we hear the call. When under the influence of those better angels we see one another and feel we have some debt of goodness to pay, not because anyone deserves it, not because we are responsible for anyone’s plight, but because, whether we like it or not, we are all bound by bonds of affection. When we are honest to those better angels of our nature we certainly feel that bond of affection and the response seems natural, we desire to give, to help, to be human in what I hope is the deepest sense of the word. There is no satiating the call, there is no amount that we can give that will fully answer, there is no fulfilling our humanity, it is what we are. There is no retaliation that can silence the call. Though we may at points stop listening to those better angels, while they yet sing, their song is the same, constant, demanding, and beautiful. There is no sustained meaning to life without the other, and while we are, we are for the other. We are not enemies, but friends, each of us, in the deepest and most honest sense of the word

That's what "they" say

They say there’s more than one way to skin a cat, but even if you have a good reason to do so (perhaps if you are a villain from a Disney movie), why would you need more than one method? It doesn’t seem like an activity that would require variety in technique. They also say that curiosity killed the cat, which leads one to ask whether it is the cat’s own curiosity that kills it or is it just curiosity in general that leads to feline mortality. It also causes one to wonder who “they” are and why they are so interested in dead cats. Though I try not to wonder too much just in case it is curiosity in general; I like cats. In fact I let one of the furry little things live in my house. His name is Heidegger; sometimes we just call him Heidi, it might sound somewhat emasculating but he is neutered so I don’t think it’s much of a worry.

Call me what you will

Some people call me Cory, it is what I write on those name tag stickers at get-to-know-you parties after all. Some people call me Mr. Walker, which usually arouses certain suspicions as most of these people are law professors. Those who are feeling particularly friendly, or particularly lazy, call me Cor. Some call me sweetheart, one of my favorites, while there have been yet others who have called me things I will omit here, we are trying to keep this site family friendly. I’ve been called “hey you” and “you there”, sport, tiger, kiddo, buddy, and pal. Some people call me son, brother, grandson, nephew, or uncle (another of my favorites), but some people just call me George.