Thursday, December 13, 2007

Little Gigabyte

Many tears and great heartache filled my days about a year ago. Perhaps my experience in this story was my wake up call. Hopefully, only these words will be yours. If you drive faster than the speed limit on city streets, drive while talking on your cell phone, drive while lighting a cigarette or putting on your make-up, or a million other things that can take your mental focus off the road, then this wake up call IS for you too.

My neighbors brought home a beautiful black lab puppy about two years ago. They named her Gigabyte and she was full of spunk and love. Gig was never shy when it came to receiving love. With her front paws, she would reach up the fence that separated our back yards making sure she was in perfect position to receive all the loving strokes and kisses I could give. With each loving pet and cuddle I gave her sweet little face, I could NEVER have known that I would be the one to clean her blood and brain tissue off the street and grass in front of my house.

Sadly, the wife of my neighbor came home from work late one afternoon and let Gig out in the back yard to use the grass. Unfortunately, the wife stepped inside the house for just a moment. In that small moment of time, something caught Gig's attention. She wandered around the side of the house to the front and eventually stepped onto the road where she was instantly hit by an SUV speeding down our street. The hit was extremely violent. Disgustingly, the driver did not stop to help Gig or to even express her remorse or sympathy. Witnesses ran to Gig and moved her to the grass. The hit was so violent she most likely died on impact.

At that time, I lived in a neighborhood with children and many, many pets. We were one block from the Yellowstone River in small town, Livingston, Montana. Many people walked or rode their bikes down our street with their dogs or their children.

I write this to remind all of us to PAY ATTENTION when we are driving. Slow down and pay attention. With my own dogs, I am extremely obsessive about responsible pet ownership, but many people allow their dogs to walk off a leash or be outside in an unfenced area without supervision. When a dog or cat follows a scent, a noise, or something else that catches their attention they are just following their natural instincts. It is not their fault they aren't being supervised and watched over or protected from drivers not paying attention and an accident happens.

WE can be protectors of these precious little ones though. Whether these little ones are precious pets or precious children, we can all be their protectors. I don't want anyone else to be the one to clean the street. And I most definitely don't want any of you to be the driver haunted by memories as I am sure the driver that hit Gig must be. Slow down and pay attention while driving.

Little Gig was so full of love and joy. I am blessed to have shared a part of her life.

~ Penny

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Dreams are Like a River

The Gary Cooper Spirit of Montana Award

by Penny Ronning, creator of award

Dreams are like a river. They start with a drop of inspiration, travel a long and winding path, and end up somewhere they could never have imagined their journey would take them. Dreamers are like the current that makes the river flow. They are the gravity pulling the river to a final destination, but every dreamer knows unseen forces can come into play to cause that river to shift, turn, overflow, or even dry up. Montanans know all about rivers. For the agriculture industry, rivers are a needed water supply for crops, animals, and the long-term health of the industry and our country.

Montanans also know all about dreams. Dreamers settled our state. They survived the harsh winters and traveled great lengths to reach their closest neighbors. Montanans are not loners; we just simply love our rivers, our neighbors, and our dreams.

I’m not sure, but I don’t think Frank Gary Cooper ever believed as a child growing up in Helena, Montana that one day he would become a Hollywood legend. I believe he had a dream in his heart and that dream took him places he could never have imagined he would be. I will ask Peter Fonda, but as a child growing up in Hollywood I can’t imagine that he ever believed he would one day settle full time in the mountains of Montana. I believe he had a dream in his heart that took him places he could never have imagined he would be.

The Gary Cooper Spirit of Montana Award is all about our dreams and those people that encourage the dreamers. For Montanans, Gary Cooper is the reflection of dreams manifested. He is the symbol of dreams achieved through hard work, compassion, determination, integrity, and a love for his craft. Gary Cooper had passion, but more importantly, he had compassion for his fellow man. When I created the Gary Cooper Spirit of Montana Award I was proud to honor a man of integrity and kindness, a man who loved the arts, and a man who loved the rivers and the dreamers of his home state, Montana.

I was also proud Jeff Bridges presented this one-time-only award to Mr. Peter Fonda. Like Gary Cooper, Peter is a man of compassion and kindness. He is a man in love with his craft and in love with the process from which it flows. He understands the drops of inspiration, the twists and turns dreams can take, and he understands the importance of encouraging young dreamers.

It is true: in Montana legends are earned. Peter has earned the respect of his peers and his fellow Montanans. Jeff Bridges so eloquently related Peter’s ability to visualize and fight for his vision for Easy Rider the night he presented the award. The significance of Easy Rider to the arts is difficult to capture with words. It must be seen and it can be. It can be seen in the young men and women Peter encourages through the classes he teaches at UCAL – San Diego. It can be seen in the young men and women he encourages at Montana State University-Bozeman. It can be seen in the young actors he directs on stage or in film. It can be seen in a young man named Titus Mischke. Ty entered Montana State University’s Media and Theatre Arts program specifically because of Easy Rider and Peter Fonda. Today, he is successfully working in the film and television industry in Los Angeles. Ty continues to credit Peter Fonda and Easy Rider as the encouragement of his dreams.

Dreams are like a river. They start with a drop of inspiration, travel a long and winding path, and end up somewhere they could never have imagined their journey would take them. Many dreamers came together to honor these two great, great men. When Peter looked around the room that evening of September 12, 2004, it was my desire that he saw and felt the realization of all of his dreams. Because it doesn’t matter if you are a young cowboy from Helena, Montana or the son of a Hollywood legend, drops of inspiration come to each one of us and like rivers, they are a life force.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

The Prison of Mediocrity

by Penny Ronning

(Reflection on Martin Luther King, Jr.'s Letter from Birmingham Jail; written May 23, 1996 for an undergraduate Composition Writing class; published 1997)

In 1983, I was privileged to spend ten days visiting Folsom Prison as a guest of the warden and the chief of police. Having studied psychology for the past three years, I was eager to find out what made the prisoners think differently from the rest of us. I found it amazing that someone could not only think of committing a crime, but actually do it as well. Realizing that many of these men would kill, rape, rob, or beat another human being with as much emotion as it takes for me to comb my hair, and knowing that most of these men were not sorry for the crimes they had committed, I asked the Lord, “What is wrong with their minds?” In my spirit, I heard God answer, “Nothing. Their minds are doing exactly what their minds were created to do. The problem is in their heart. Change their heart and you change their life.” All prisons are horrible, but the worst prison of all is the prison of mediocrity.

Prisoners of mediocrity are as Martin Luther King, Jr. suggests in his letter from the Birmingham jail, “dedicated to maintenance of the status quo." Silence, in regard to the oppressed, delivers the same judgment as action in regard to the oppressors. The person who says nothing, looks the other way, pays no attention, or says, “it is none of my business,” shares the same guilt with the one who delivers the blow of inhumane justice and oppression.

One of the most memorable and well-written scenes to come out of Hollywood is from the movie, Pretty Woman. Edward, a multimillionaire businessman played by Richard Gere, has just been surprised by the actions of Vivian, a prostitute played by Julia Roberts. After drinking champagne and eating strawberries, Vivian excuses herself from Edward’s presence and taking her purse with her, retreats into the bathroom. Edward, being suspicious of her actions, has decided to see what she is doing. Vivian is about to floss the strawberry seeds out of her teeth when she hears Edward open the door. Embarrassed, she closes her hand around the dental floss hiding it from Edward. Edward, assuming she is hiding drugs in her hand, grabs Vivian by the arm, shoves her purse into her chest, tells her that he will have nothing to do with drugs while pushing her toward the door. Surprised by this sudden accusation, Vivian halts their movement and declares that she does not do drugs. Edward then asks her to show what she is hiding in her hand. Humiliated, Vivian opens her hand to reveal the dental floss. Edward is stunned. Seeing his reaction, Vivian asks, “What’s the matter? Never see anyone floss their teeth?” Edward responds by saying, “People don’t usually surprise me.” To which Vivian says, “You’re lucky. They shock the hell out of me.”

The older I get the more like Vivian I become: people shock the hell out of me. Walking into class, I was shocked to hear complaints about Martin Luther King, Jr.’s letter being too long. I was shocked to hear a student say that she was glad he was dead. I was shocked to hear this same student say that Martin Luther King, Jr., didn’t know when to shut up. I was shocked to hear another student agree that he (Dr. King) didn’t need to write so much. I was shocked to hear several students complain that the letter took too long to read. All, of course, received my very emotional and not-thought-out-at-all response, “Too bad you had to suffer through four pages of a letter written by a man representing a whole group of people who have been suffering for hundreds of years.” To which one student replied, “Fourteen pages, Penny, not four.”

Martin Luther King, Jr. was not only the face of hope for black people in the 1950s and ‘60s, but he has been one of the world’s greatest instigators of higher thinking. He challenged people of all races to look beyond themselves to a higher cause. He challenged people from all backgrounds to break the boundaries of complacency. He challenged all people to overcome hate with love. He challenged all people to think with a greater purpose.

Dr. King quotes Jesus, Martin Luther, John Bunyan, Abraham Lincoln, and Thomas Jefferson in his letter from the Birmingham jail. These men are not only easily identifiable, but they are also instigators of a higher level of thinking. Each of these men, including Martin Luther King, Jr., fought for a cause greater than his own life. Each man rose above the level of mediocrity by challenging society to step up to the level of responsibility. Each man looked inward for answers rather than outward for blame, and each man challenged all people to do the same.

Although Martin Luther King, Jr. was the voice of strength and the face of hope for black people during the height of the Civil Rights Movement, he never pointed to himself as the one to follow. He always pointed beyond himself to the one greater than he: Jesus Christ. I believe, in Martin Luther King, Jr.’s heart, the most important role he lived was that of a Christian. In his letter from the Birmingham jail, he writes to his fellow clergy, “I hope this letter finds you strong in the faith. I also hope that circumstances will soon make it possible for me to meet each of you, not as an integrationist or a civil-rights leader but as a fellow clergyman and a Christian brother."

Because Martin Luther King, Jr. chose not to live a life of mediocrity, people have done more than just exist; they have lived. Alice Walker testifies in "The Civil Rights Movement: What Good Was It,"

Because of the Movement, because of an awakened faith in the newness and imagination of the human spirit . . . because of the beatings, the arrests, the hell of battle during the past years, I have fought harder for my life and for a chance to be myself, to be something more than a shadow or a number, than I had ever done before. Before, there had seemed to be no real reason for struggling beyond the effort for daily bread.

Because Martin Luther King, Jr. defied mediocrity, we have been given the awareness of “right defeated is stronger than evil triumphant” and “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." Martin Luther King, Jr. shined the light of justice for all people into the caverns of injustice for a select people. He called forth a response and an action from all social classes.

It is true, one day each of us will stand before God, judged not by the color of our skin, but by the content of our character. The prison of mediocrity is a choice. The freedom of nobility is a choice. Both come with a price tag--pay now or pay later.

Works Cited

Kirszner, Laurie G., and Stephen R. Mandell. eds. Patterns for College Writing. 6th Edition. New York: St. Martin’s. 1995.
King, Martin Luther, Jr. “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” Kirszner and Mandell. 562-576.
Walker, Alice. “The Civil Rights Movement: What Good Was It.” Kirszner and Mandell. 315-322.

Friday, November 16, 2007

The Comfort of a "Gifted" Generation Weighs Heavy on My Soul

A Veterans Day Tribute
by Penny Ronning
(Written November 10, 2007)

Today as I think of tomorrow’s significance I realize I was born into a “gifted” generation. History tends to define generations by their response to war. For those of us born during the Vietnam War, we’ve never experienced a military draft. The human rights, the freedoms we’ve experienced our entire lives were gifted to us. I wonder…what have we done with these gifts? Are we prepared to “pay it forward” as previous generations did for us? How will my generation be defined?

Tom Brokaw writes of the “Greatest Generation” and if I were to have met no one else from that generation other than a man by the name of Ben Steele, I would still agree with Mr. Brokaw’s assessment. Surely, a man such as Ben Steele would have to come from the “Greatest Generation.”

Benjamin Charles Steele was born November 17, 1917 to ranchers in Roundup, Montana. At the age of 24 and in the middle of the Second World War, Ben was living one of the things his generation would become known for – victory. But, you see, you have to know Ben to know that he tells the story somewhat differently. But that’s where the story takes another twist because to know Ben IS to know victory.

Ben was a member of the Army Air Corp’s 19th Bomb Group and in late 1941, they found themselves stationed at Clark Field in the Philippines. While many of the soldiers at Clark Field may have been dreaming of their loved ones back home on Christmas Day in 1941, orders were coming down that would change their lives forever. It was that day they were ordered to Bataan.

As the Japanese were zeroing in on General Douglas MacArthur’s headquarters in Corregidor, the United States government was deciding that America could not fight two fronts at the same time. Hitler would come first and then the Japanese. In March of 1942, General MacArthur was ordered out of the Philippines and to Australia. With this decision, came consequences unimaginable to the thousands of American soldiers left stranded in the Philippines. Already in a dire situation, for the next three and a half years, no supplies, no ammunition, no fuel, no food, no clothing, no help was sent to these American soldiers from the U.S. government. As one person said, “No Momma, No Papa, No Uncle Sam.”

With no changes of clothing or boots, food rations almost nonexistent, no ammunition coming to replace what had been used, no additional military help, and virtually no medicine to aid the sick and injured, these brave soldiers held the battle front at Bataan for nearly 4 months.

April 9, 1942, Bataan was surrendered to the Japanese.

At that time in Japanese culture, to be a prisoner of war was to be one of the lowest creatures on earth deserving of no respect. To be a guard of these POW’s was considered to be the lowest level of rank within the Japanese military. Quentin Tarantino could not come up with anything as bloody and as horrifying as to how these Japanese soldiers were desensitized to the humanity of a prisoner of war. During World War II the mortality rate in German POW camps was 1.1%, but in Japanese POW camps the death rate was a shocking 38%.

For 9 days, in 100-degree heat with almost equal humidity, no hat, less than 2 cups of rice each day, and no water, Ben walked 60 miles shoulder to shoulder, body to body, among the 11,796 American, 66,000 Filipino, and 1,000 Chinese Filipino prisoners of war on what would become known later as the Bataan Death March. This nightmare of a march would leave a death trail of an estimated 3,000 Americans and 12,000 Filipinos. Those that survived, including Ben, were crammed sick body upon sick body in waiting railroad cars to be taken to Camp O’Donnell and then later to Cabanatuan, Japan, or other POW Camps. (Cabanatuan was the largest POW camp on foreign soil; 9,000 people lived there; 3,000 Americans died there.)

In June of 1942, Ben was selected as one of 325 men from Camp O’Donnell to be assigned to a Japanese work project known as the Tayabas Road Detail. With no shelter, virtually no food and no water, these men worked in the jungle day and night. Ben was only one of 50 to survive.

Survive…that he did. However, the worst and the worst yet were yet to come.

The harshness of the Tayabas Road Detail met its match in Ben Steele. Beri beri, malaria, blood poisoning, pneumonia, and dysentery all raged within Ben’s body. For the next eighteen months he continued to define this “Greatest Generation” while he interned in Bilibid Prison. In the midst of circumstances more horrible than I want to close my eyes to try to imagine, Ben began to draw the realities of what his mind had recorded.

Sometimes we discover gifts God has given us only when the hottest of heat is applied to our lives -- kind of like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

In Bilibid, something more powerful than the combination of beri beri, malaria, blood poisoning, pneumonia, and dysentery was at work within Ben. Something more powerful than the fear of death was growing inside of him. What was this all-powerful thing? It was the desire to honor. After all, Ben is from the “Greatest Generation” and that is what they taught the world – honor.

With no formal art training, Ben began to draw on whatever scraps of paper he could find images of what his eyes had seen and his mind worked overtime to process. These drawings were Ben’s way to honor his fallen comrades and record his experiences. At risk of death if discovered, Ben continued to pay tribute by secretly drawing the bravery of each soldier facing the most horrific of human cruelty. Sadly, all but two of Ben’s drawings were lost on a transport ship.

But Ben’s story of victory continues. And if you remember, the worst yet was yet to come.

Most Americans may not remember being taught about the hell ships of World War II. I certainly didn’t. The appropriately named hell ships transported prisoners of war from the islands in the Pacific to Japan or other destinations to work as forced labor. These prisoners were crammed, once again, sick body on top of sick body into cargo compartments located at the very bottoms of these ships. One bucket of rice and one bucket of dirty, salty, fish water would be lowered to the prisoners once a day. Because each bucket contained only enough for one ration per man in the compartments, when a prisoner would die the others would keep his body amongst them for as long as they could stand so the rations would not be cut back. As in the Death March, the railroad cars, the POW camps, the Tayabas Road Detail, and Bilibid Prison, the dead bodies began to pile up. Only now in the lowest compartments of these hell ships, there was no access to fresh air. This truly was Hell. But this is a story about victory and Hell has no place there.

Ben survived what he describes as the worst experience of all and went on to serve three months in a hard labor coal mining camp in Japan before the Japanese surrendered and the war was over. Upon Ben’s return to the United States, he made his way through the lines with all of the other prisoners of war reporting back in with the military. When he reached one of the desks, he was asked how many days he was a prisoner of war. Ben replied with the exact number. Not long after that Ben received a check in the mail from the United States government -- $1.00 for each day he was a prisoner of war. Skills Ben learned while growing up on a ranch were put to use during his time in action in the Philippines. These skills saved the lives of many of his fellow soldiers and earned Ben the Silver Star. Sadly, to the best of my knowledge, this heroic medal has still never been presented to him.

Ben and his beautiful wife, Shirley settled in Billings, Montana and raised a family. Ben became and retired as a professor of art from Eastern Montana College, now known as Montana State University – Billings. He also recreated his drawings that were lost on the transport ship. His drawings and original oil paintings can be seen at Montana State University – Billings and online at

I once heard Ben say that the Americans fighting in the Philippines during that time didn’t win a victory over the Japanese because they were forced to surrender. Funny thing that word victory…I guess we often think of a military victory as one country winning a battle against another. Perhaps that’s where we lose sight of what makes up a collective generation. It’s individual human lives, each with meaning and each with purpose. Merriam-Webster defines victory as 1: the overcoming of an enemy or antagonist and 2: success in a struggle or endeavor against odds or difficulties. By both definitions, I believe, the collective individuals that survived those three and a half years in the Philippines achieved the victory for all of those left behind. Each survivor and each life lost has meaning and purpose. After all, this was the “Greatest Generation” and they taught the world the meaning of honor.

So, today as I think of tomorrow’s significance I wonder as collective individuals how are we defining our generation? Do we stand at attention with our hands over our hearts when we see our flag being raised? Do we teach our children that freedom is never free? When we drive by a cemetery filled with white tombstones do we acknowledge the lives given so that we may live out our human rights?

I ask these questions of myself because like many of you, I am entering into the second half of my life and I believe that our lives are defined by our actions not our intentions; and that our generation will be defined by our collective individual actions. Will the world be a better place because my generation lived?

To those that have served in the military, fought in a war, healing from injuries received in a war, or are now fighting in a war – THANK YOU. I am humbled in my mind to think of how different your life is from mine. With all of my heart – THANK YOU. To those that I know personally, my grandfather Sigurd Ronning and his brother Paul, both citizens of Norway drafted into the American Army in 1918; my own uncles that fought in World War II (Edwin and Leon, the Pacific fleet; Mike and Maurice, Europe; Glen, wounded in Iwo Jima; Andy, Army Air Corp; and George, bomber pilot both in WWII and the Korean War); to my friends Leonard Dahl, who fought in the Pacific in World War II and Eddie Boehm, Africa, WWII; to my friend Al Feldstein, Special Services artist, WWII; to my Dad’s cousin Orville Graslie, the Pacific WWII; to my Dad, who served in the Army; to Ken Fisher, who served with my Dad; to Lawrence Brotzel, Marines; to Jesse Hammer, Marines; to my uncle Harold, Army; to Captain Dale Dye, 3 tours in Vietnam; to my friend Robin Chadderdon, retired Air Force; to my friend, Tom Fortner, Army; to my younger friends that fought in Desert Storm; to all of the pilots who were veterans I flew with while I was a Flight Attendant; to all of the soldiers, SEALS, and military personnel that were passengers on the MACs and CAMs I worked; to all of your relatives and friends that have served in the military; and to Ben Steele:


My soul is heavy with the knowledge that my generation has been given a gift. It is my hope that we will be defined as a generation that used the gifts of education, science, communication, finances, travel, the media, journalism, freedom of speech, the right to vote, and the power of prayer among many others to further the cause of human rights and to leave this world a better place because we lived. It is my hope that the generations that come after us will feel the desire to say thank you.

Suggested viewing:

The Great Raid, a film by John Dahl. The director's cut is the version to watch. Included with the director's cut DVD is additional material that is life impacting; at least it was for me.