Thursday, May 21, 2015

The Historic Nature of America's Green Family Medical Denial.




This essay is somewhat of a departure from what I usually write about.
As it is still all about going green, as are all of my essays,
This one is a bit more personal.

I am a United States Navy, Vietnam Era Veteran.
I never served in Vietnam, but, many of my friends did.
As I voluntarily enlisted in the U.S. Navy for many of the same reasons others have,
I did so as well because my father had joined the U.S. Army during
World War Two.

As those who serve do so for reasons only those who serve actually ever know,
such reasons are bench marked by the fact that someone has to do the work that others don't necessarily believe in, or, agree with, but, for one reason or another
are compelled to do so for reasons that are ultimately derived from of greater urgency to respect and perpetually nurture both national security and dignity.

Vietnam was of course, the most disputed conflict perhaps in all of America's history of warfare. As it was, many who served during this time did so not
necessarily because they wanted to, but because their fathers had done the same and a certain amount of heroic footstep following took place between fathers and sons as a result.

As this was most certainly one of the reasons why I joined the Navy during the Vietnam Era, there were several other reasons as well.

One of those reasons was the fact that my father kept his military experiences literally locked up in a drawer that no one would ever be allowed access to.

Along with the case that held his military secrets were two other items.

The first of those items was another case.

This case, leather bound, held the drafting tools of an architect and structural engineer. These tools were the dreams of my father “unfortunately unfulfilled.”

The second of those items were a perfectly folded set of pure white handkerchiefs.

Oddly enough, whereas my father and I would spend decades attempting to discuss the contents of the two cases he held quite secretive to his heart, we shared white handkerchiefs every day of our lives together in quite the natural and unassuming manner.

While all of this might sound a bit mystifying to those who normally read my green environmental essays, adding to this mystery is my relationship with The United States Department of Veteran's Affairs, and, specifically, my relationship with the Million VeteranProgram established by the Veteran's Administration, Office of 
Research and Development. The Million Veteran Program has been established by the VA for the specific task of charting the DNA of one million American military veterans.

One of the reasons for this charting is to help define the nature of recurring illnesses in multiple generations of families of veterans for the purpose of preventing such illnesses from being continuously transferred gene-rationally from one family member to the next, or, if not being preventable, at least being anticipated, and, as a result that much more likely of of being constructively treated and managed.

In my case, such research could not have come in a more timely manner (actually it would have been nice a bit earlier).

After spending the first sixty years of my life living with a medical problem that went entirely misdiagnosed, I did as well inherit this genetic disorder from my father who suffered from the same damn nagging physical problems as my own until, what I consider to be, his very much untimely death several years ago.

As the second item on that list above was in fact that set of pure white handkerchiefs, these handkerchiefs were to us both a literal barometer that let us know on a daily basis how best to deal with the fact that our mutual difficulty with breathing, hearing, sinus and balance disorders would be dominated by our need and ability to manage these symptoms on a daily basis.

At any rate, the essay below speaks not only to the nature of inherited genetic disorders, but, the broader consequences of being socially labeled as suffering from one thing that was in fact, not the least bit accurate, but, for convenience sake was collectively accepted by those who did not suffer from the same medical problems others faced daily.

As you read this essay, I want you to consider the fact that in all likelihood, either you, or, some member of your own family does indeed operate their own body on a daily basis in a mode of diminished medical or physiological potential, meaning that more than likely, as the nature of American medicine is rapidly evolving to address these genetic based issues, the capacity America has to “Go Green” in the medical community parallels the capacity America has to do the same in virtually every other industrial and environmental sector.

As the question here is whether a Physician or a Surgeon can also become an Architect, the answer of course depends upon the overall environmental health concerns of the body owner.


Mike Patrick Dahlke










__________________________________________
The Historic Nature of America's
Green Family Medical Denial.”



The Congenital Birth Defects Inside
Kevin and John.


Several decades ago, I began sketching pictures of houses. In fact, the very first sketches I produced began to emerge from my artistic mind when I was just five years of age. As the ideas that were forming in my mind back then would ultimately serve to define the field of architecture I work in today, the determination to pursue such a career also emerged at that same, very early age. Indeed, long before the concept of nurturing or being supportive of early childhood education was considered as being a rather crucial step in the creative development of a young child’s mind, the drawings I was doing at the age of five, clearly complex in nature, and, of course, quite compelling to those who saw them (including myself) often led to questions.

How on earth could such a young child produce such complex drawings? Without, ever even for a moment, having been exposed to any form of art education other than a simple box of eight crayons and a coloring book filled with simple, one dimensional pictures of cowboys, Indian's and horses, - how could a young child come up with the ideas for houses he was indeed coming up with apparently all on his own and quite effortlessly? What on earth was really going on in this young boys mind?



Living in southwest Chicago and growing up in a “Catholic Family”, the fact that a child of five could pick up a packet of crayons and a piece of paper and create something unique and remarkable was back then, quite startling to the “elders”. As it was, the approach to dealing with such artistic expression was more or less met with some form of punishment oriented, Catholicism based, spiritual intervention designed to retrain the child’s mind in the hopes that child would, by the “Grace of God”, redirect his or her’s inner spiritual self to things more appropriate to that child’s age like cowboys, Indians and horses or, perhaps, army men, jeeps and guns all of which were of course depicted in coloring books created during that age in our America.

Yes, even though what I was drawing would today be considered to be quite appropriate to a child's artistic capabilities, back then such development had not, at the time, even been defined socially nationwide, let alone, or, not even more remotely so, in southwest Catholic Chicago. The rule back then was simple “A Child Should Be Seen And Not Heard”. As long as this rule was adhered to, both the child and the parent and the rest of the cloistered society they both lived in would be perfectly fine and life of course would be wonderful.



At any rate, sixty years later, many things have changed for the better across America and the world. Unfortunately few things have changed in southwest suburban Catholic Chicago, not to mention, Chicago in general. As the framework for social advancement in Chicago as well as most of the State of Illinois still more or less comes down to being a child that is seen but not heard, creativity, and, in particular architectural or engineering creativity on the local neighborhood by neighborhood level is still surrounded by the concept of placing a value on being seen and not heard rather than placing a value on the potential creativity of the children who were born with naturally creative industrial and artistic minds and who did so simply because they had the ability to do so, and, did so as well, in of all places, Chicago, which was, at one point in time, considered by many, as the structural engineering capital of America.



Getting back to drawing pictures of houses at the age of five; one of the reasons I found myself doing so was the fact that at that very early age of five, I often found myself traveling in the back seat of my mother and father’s dark green 1951 Chevy as they traveled here and there across Chicago to visit friends, relatives and places. As Chicago was once indeed considered to be the engineering capital of the world, I was exposed to Buckingham Fountain, The Tribune Tower, the buildings of Louis Sullivan and Frank Lloyd Wright, the lakefront architecture of Daniel Burnham, rows and rows of Chicago bungalows, Midway Airport and so on and so forth all the while sitting in the back seat of that dark green 51Chevy.



As my parents were driving along doing what they were doing and I suppose having little awareness of how such a drive would be impacting their children sitting in the back seat, one of those children, if not all (three children at the time) was memorizing the architectural elements he at the age of five was more than capable of processing and would go home to draw on a piece of paper with a crayon that would ultimately be torn up and destroyed the moment he finished the drawing by the parents driving in the front seat of that “Catholicized” 1957 Chevy (replete with a dashboard mounted St. Joseph figurine) in the first place.


The Congenital Birth Defects Inside
Kevin and John.



As this essay is subtitled “The Congenital Birth Defects Inside Kevin and John”, obviously there is more to this story than a five year old drawing pictures. As there is more meat, and, indeed quite a bit of historical meat associated with the story being told here, this story explores the history of congenital birth defects as well as our nation's failure to reverse what I call the culture of “wholly unconscious, genetic based medical denial” as well as “green architectural denial” both of which this author states we as a nation have collectively fallen victim to for far too long. As such, whereas “green architectural denial” stunts our collective capacity to adopt truly sustainable building codes nationwide, “wholly unconscious, genetic based medical denial” is the actual reason why we don't. The total lack of focus on either then, simply does little as well, to resolve the stigma of being born abnormally to begin with. Whether that abnormality comes in the form of a young child drawing remarkably detailed pictures, another young child being a piano virtuoso, or, yet another child being born with an actual physical disability, the fact that child abnormalities are still considered as abnormalities by a culture that for the most part simply cannot slow itself down to see that the brilliance of either our overall medical or architectural potential as well as our collective artistic development (which of course if allowed, begins in every single one of us, at a very early age) simply speaks volumes to the need to reverse this negative trend.

Adding to the urgency of reversing this trend is the fact that for every generation being told to hurry up through the first twenty years of ones life simply to get some innocuous job that demands little or no creativity does, in a far more destructively complex manner, remove each generation farther from not only the skills of their ancestors but the subtle nature of the gene pool that if studied carefully enables a much more in depth analysis of the symptoms associated with congenital birth defects in the first place.

Having stated the above, let me again go back to the fact that at the age of five I was creating very complex renderings of “living houses”.

Whereas I have already mentioned briefly the reactions I was “blessed with” from doing such drawings, whereas, I've touched briefly upon the social stigma one with an early childhood abnormality must endure, the larger issue here is what was the whole and actual motivation for me drawing the picture in the first place.

Of all of the things I could have possibly chosen to draw, why did I choose houses?

Going one step farther, did I choose houses, or, did houses choose me?

Going even further, was architecture in my genes?

And, going further yet, was the congenital birth defect I was born with actually a gift from my ancestors, a seemingly unrelated riddle, or, an actual ancestral obligation to fulfill?

From my now adult perspective, my own early childhood experiences of drawing pictures of houses were quite multidimensional in nature. In as much as I was drawing these pictures, before the drawing came the conceptualization of what it was that I was about to draw and from within the conceptualization came the desire to solve a problem. Thus, I drew pictures of houses in order to solve a larger problem I was having living in the house I was raised in. Thus as wanting to solve a problem led to the conceptualization of a solution and the solution was the finished drawing, within that drawing were a host of emotions, a host of needs being fulfilled, and, a quite significant amount of personal determination to communicate to others, in the form of pictures what a child of five could not possibly convey in words.

So what exactly was it that I was attempting to communicate to others by drawing a rather complex picture of a house?

The first thing I was communicating was that, due to the severe upper respiratory ailments that afflicted me throughout my childhood, all of the house pictures I drew had many large windows drawn into them. Whether these drawings were of the inside of the house looking out, or, the outside of the house looking in, large windows, or, vast expanses of glass were incorporated into all of my drawings.

In terms of communicating my emotions through these pictures, it was then, the windows that held the stories that hopefully would transfer my internal emotions (or longings) to my audience. As the inside drawings of windows often had children playing just outside of those windows, the outside drawings of windows often had house plants growing just inside of those windows. Thus as children playing outside of those windows lamented the fact that I, because of my poor upper respiratory health, could not go out and play with those children in the manner in which they naturally played together among themselves, plants growing inside of those windows represented the longing I had to be able to breathe, plant cleansed fresh air, freely and easily. Needless to say, my drawings had the very real capacity to draw those who viewed them literally right into the lives of those being drawn.

While the above scenario is compelling, what is even more compelling is how I actually came to invent and use the tools that helped me draw. As these tools were simply crayons and paper, a 12” ruler and a variety of round objects such as spice jars, toilet paper cardboard tubes, the round crayon itself (all of which I used to draw various circular shapes, all of these objects/tools I would come to discover years later were nothing more than early childhood improvisations of the architectural and engineering tools my father had hidden away in one of his dresser drawers and that in fact were handed down to him by my grandfather. In other words, from the standpoint of at least some of our family heritage, drawing houses had been a mainstay of my families genetic history for at least 100 years, and, in fact, so too was gardening, both of which my father and I had a natural creative and internally peaceful tendency for.

Unfortunately, as my early childhood yearning and capacity to draw was stifled at the age of five, it would continue to be stifled well into my teen aged years and into my early twenties at least within the social framework of my own family dynamic.

As it seemed like virtually nothing I did in regards to drawing was ever truly recognized, it would not be until after I was discharged from the United States Navy that I found the courage (or insight) to confront my father as to why, in the first twenty years of my life, this otherwise insightful and loving man never once showed me the leather bound case that held both his and my grandfather's drafting tools on one hand while on another never acknowledging my drawings or the skills I possessed to do such drawings in the first place. In fact, it was not until after I had spent more than a year working as a counselor for the Vietnam Veterans Delayed Stress program, which in and of itself, was an experience orchestrated by a series of seemingly unrelated personal encounters, that I was able to discover the torment my father had over his own military experience on one hand, while on the other, the broader inner peace he found through of all things, gardening.

As that torment was at the time, I thought, all about his inability to peacefully sit down on a drafting board and draw due exclusively to his own military experience, finally coming to the peaceful understanding of our mutual love for drawing as that understanding was quite roughly translated in a quietly subtle artistic manner for us both by the projects we as father and son did together on our house and in the garden that grew the food that fed our family ??????????

Adding significantly more to this whole scenario was the fact that both my father and I had the same exact set of upper respiratory health issues that were just as quietly dismissed in his generation as they were and still are in my own today as being something entirely different than what those health issues actually were, and, still again, are. But again, while I was born into an age where a child should be seen and not heard, and, the much broader supposition that either a medical disability or an artistic ability could in fact both be linked to genetics was unheard of then in much the same manner as it still is today. None the less, the facts pertaining to both of the above in our still over achieving and still, quite unfortunately, poorly aimed 21st century American industrial perspective of dysfunctional, non green, economic growth stare us all in the face.

Adding to this whole American socioeconomic mess is a term I choose to define as “assumed multi-generational, family based, behavioral misjudgment”.

This term I use to define the pattern of judgment people within a family in general use to justify their overall unwillingness to admit that they are much more a part of a negative assessment of a particular set of family dynamics then they are a positive. As grasping the concept that genetics can be viewed as a remarkably constructive tool that serves to both heal and positively direct the future potential of an entire family dynamic is in fact quite possible, dwelling on the larger negative results of not doing so ultimately holds sway. As it does, the greater potential for a family to flourish from within its own ancestral wealth is washed away into a torrent of misdirected emotional competitiveness whose only purpose is to remove the brilliance of the family tree by eating away at the roots or heartstrings of that family's otherwise potentially quite dynamic and endearingly lovely creative bond.

Getting back to “The Congenital Birth Defects Inside Kevin and John”.

Given the fact that John is in fact my own biological brother, it is quite important here to look at “assumed multi-generational, family based, behavioral misjudgment”. when attempting to grasp the unique character of our relationship together as brothers. And, in order to do this properly, it is equally important to look at our relationship together starting from the age of five on my part and three years of age on my brothers part. It is also important to keep in perspective the fact that while I was born with certain artistic tendencies, John was simply not. As his world was what one could probably define as the world of a normal little boy, what John spent his time doing aside from normal little boy things was competing for attention given to an older brother that in general, simply made his parents angry, frustrated and at a loss as to how to handle ME his big brother.

Thus, as time went by and I continued to pursue my artistic gifts, John became entrenched in his role as a normal little boy, pouting for attention and becoming angrier and angrier at his older brother due primarily to the fact that neither of our parents had the wherewithal to understand either the notion of having a gifted child let alone the notion of having a child born with physical, genetic abnormalities. As this was the case and instead of a little brother becoming the protector or defender of the big brother, John took on the role of the disgusted little brother protecting his parents from his evil brother. Within that role the fact my parents chose to go to the Catholic Church for guidance as to how to control my abnormal behavior, the fact that all I could do was draw pictures that attempted to convey to them that my body was in pain simply motivated them and my brother to become that much more obsessed with their faith and that much more certain that penance and prayer would heal me while in turn, protect them from confronting the fact that perhaps they themselves might also be suffering from some sort of congenital birth defect.

Low and behold, years later when my brother met his wife and they had their first child, three years after their first son's birth, their little boy contracted spinal meningitis, and, now today, some thirty years later, this same little boy remains entirely paralyzed from that ordeal. Whereas John and his wife as well as their son have had the terrible misfortune to have lived with this all of their life, my youngest daughter, just a few years later, and, at the same age as their son, contracted the same illness, and, although she scared the life out of us all back then, is today a perfectly normal young lady who loves to work with wood and write stories about life in much the same manner as me, her father, my mother (her grandmother) and my mother's father (her great grandfather). As all of these stories are quite narrative in nature, the nature of the narrative is quite ancestral in substance. As such, the history of the family is documented from a certain historical time line that includes every little nuance of behavior and attitude but is somewhat lacking in either historical documentation of what an individual actually did for a living or what perhaps medical condition any one or several family members either had, or, in fact, actually had in common and have through simple genetic inheritance, passed on to all the rest.

Whereas all of the information gathered in terms of aunts and uncles, great aunts and great uncles, great, great grandfathers and mothers is of course important to those who find the subject insightful, the lack of historical record as that record pertains to the trades and skills of our ancestors as well as the medical issues each generation of a family collectively faced, simply adds that much more depth and substance to the reference encyclopedia of family ancestral whole health that is lacking not only in my family but the families of so many others in America today. As such fundamental, if not crucial information, is indeed lacking, wholly unnecessary emotional and psychological dysfunction infiltrates the family dialog causing undue levels of debilitating mistrust and multiple decades of built up hatred and resentment to take the place of what should otherwise be, the constructive capacity of the whole family to reference their personal encyclopedia of family ancestral whole health wholly unencumbered by anything that can only be defined as loosely characterized and hopelessly petty nonsense.

As I left my family home and Chicago community virtually the day I graduated high school, the very real reason for doing so is that if I did not, there would be virtually no opportunity for me to pursue my own whole body health regime on one hand, my own professional perspective on green, healthy architectural design on the other, nor my own journey to discover what in fact it was inside me that drove me to work with wood and nature in ways that were for the most part identical to both my father and grandfather as well as my great grandmother on my mothers side, all of whom had such a remarkable bond with our natural environment and all of whom, in one manner or another, were also the family medical healers – those with the greatest amount of “instinctive knowledge” as that instinct pertained to either the ability to solve any mechanical problem instantly as well as solve any medical problem just as quickly (or if not solve it) be able to refer the symptoms of a child from one generation to the symptoms of another child or adult from yet another and in the process enable both generations that much more of an in depth understanding of the probable cause as well as the likely cure to either set of issues.

A remarkable case in point here is in fact the mutual ordeal both my brother John and I and our wives and children went through during the terrible experience with spinal meningitis I discussed earlier.

Startling as it may be to state, my daughters full recovery from this terrible ordeal was due in large part to the fact that the doctor who treated her was in fact the same doctor who treated every other member of my family (including myself) for our entire lives. In fact as the reference encyclopedia of family ancestral whole health I referred to above is in my view crucial to a family's whole creative and medical consciousness, this doctor was in fact our family consciousness, Before he himself passed away, he was literally our walking, living and breathing medical reference encyclopedia. Simply put if this doctor was not there for my daughter at the crucial forty eight hour period of early onset, more than likely she would have ended up living the very same life as her cousin, my brother's son. In the same breath, my nephew was afflicted with this ailment literally thousands of miles away from any medical professional even remotely knowledgeable of our family medical history. Whereas the point I am making here is that harnessing the entire power of the full family can only actually be harnessed through very open and honest dialog, America in many ways has allowed the closing of this dialog for the sake of some entirely abstract set of universally applied medical practices that do not in any manner reflect the historical genetic makeup of the individual family itself.

By the time I had reached the age of twelve, and, after several years of being poked and prodded by a new generation of hopelessly impersonal and entirely lost medical specialists in hopes of determining the root cause of my unrelenting childhood respiratory problems, I began to take matters into my own hands. Starting with reviewing articles in health and fitness magazines, alternative books on healing and nutrition, (such as “Back To Eden” by Jethro Kloss), preparing meals for myself that no one else would eat, reading such publications as “Mother Earth News” and, of all things, “Popular Mechanics”, after all of this, a clear and definitive pattern of positive organic health began to emerge in my body. Whereas I was once a prisoner in my own room, I took to bicycling, and, in fact power bicycling to build up my lungs. From fitness I turned to organic foods, food supplements, vitamins and healthy cooking techniques that when combined essentially prevented any form of mucous from forming in my lungs, throat and upper respiratory tracts while at the same time provided my body with the nutrients I was not receiving from my own family's quite unfortunately, wholly unhealthy but traditional (in Chicago terms) dinner table.

From there it was on to martial arts and meditation, To help keep a focus on my personal health, delving in to what I call, two “essential elements of consciousness” enabled me the ability to slow my own metabolism down, or, more specifically, pull my mind away from the discomfort of internal, genetically obstructed normal breathing that was affecting my body and towards a much more structured and self disciplined “conscious breathing”. As I was doing this at the age of twelve, my continued fascination with architecture which by then had grown to include structural and mechanical as well as electrical, solar and wind engineering learned in part from reading “Popular Mechanics” and “Mother Earth News” magazines brought me that much more awareness of not only the human condition of not being able to breathe normally, but, to as well, study in quite some detail, the nature of architectural air currents as such currents traveled naturally through the interior of a home as well as traveled just as naturally about the outside of that same home. Needless to say, the anti social behavior I began to express at the early age of five by producing complex drawings of buildings was now, at the age of twelve to sixteen, taking on the realm of pure insanity to those in my family who were instead wholly fixed on eating roast beef, beating the shit out of themselves on school ground football fields, while drinking beer and squeezing the budding breasts of teen aged Catholic good girls with panties and/or leather jacketed, public school bad girl whores without panties while being altogether oblivious to either the lungs, or, the heart valves and blood vessels that actually brought genetically healthy life to those breasts in the first place.

As an interesting footnote here is the fact that at one time in our America, the adolescent years of American life were also the years of beginning apprenticeships in a broad host of building and mechanical trades, as these apprenticeships were truly and wholly culturally designed to prepare an adolescent child for work in the very trade his or her family had been in for decades, these apprenticeships also served as a quite rational, and, oddly enough, realistic form of pure, common sense based, natural birth control. In other words, whereas sex, or, the sexual attraction one has to a member of the opposite sex, has always been somewhat of a motivator from which either an adolescent man or adolescent woman were initially attracted to one another, the larger purpose in life has been how, through such whole life mutual attraction, both the man and the woman, structure their whole relationship on the whole dynamic of the whole genetic attraction both of them are simply fascinated by, and, of course, quite mutually responsible to fulfill. Whereas the above statement might be construed as being either old fashioned, or, entirely abstract, the fact of the matter is that in today's green architectural reality, advancements in both the medical and architectural professions clearly illustrate to us all that an entirely new definition of tradespeople is unfolding in our 21st century American, mixed energy based industrial, environmental and medical as well as economic experience.

For myself, in as much as I have spent my whole life coming to terms with the fact that I was born with a genetically inherited medical illness, I have as well spent my whole life designing architecture that enables my client base to live in environmentally sound, and of course, quite healthy living environments. As such environments would not be the least bit capable of being realized without an extensive commingling of medical and architectural based environmental research, the nature of such research today clearly facilitates the emergence of a broad host of new job categories not only in these two fields, but, the emergence of equally new job categories in virtually every other industrial sector as well. As all of these sectors combined ultimately have the ability to reignite America's overall labor intensive, job creating economy, they do as well have the same potential to reunite American families with the very distinguished and time honored trades of their ancestral heritage. Thus, as my grandfather handed to my father the tools of an engineer to which my father handed them to me, from within both a comprehensive understanding of our medical frailties and our family trade, the work of my brother John (an accountant) and the work of Kevin (an insurance man) should advance equally.

As one would think that in this 2015 green industrial day and age that all of us with any relationship with genetically inherited abnormalities would be naturally inclined to utilize advanced environmental education to rectify not only the interpersonal struggles we have, but to as well, identify the green industrial skills required to advance ourselves both socially and economically, such advancement would be quite universal in thought. Unfortunately, green architectural design and the subsequent dialog of truly grasping the larger medical need we as Americans have to once again become environmentally conscious craftspeople is muted to the point of only being able to remember how as children we responded to such frailties as being behavioral based as opposed to being physiologically based. Thus, as a child who could not do the things that other children did left a negative impression upon my brother John's impression of me in every bit the same manner as it left our mutual friend Kevin the same negative impression of me, both of these otherwise capable professional men have, instead of using their own insight into their own family based genetic medical weaknesses to guide them to produce business models to protect their own family members from financial hardship, have worked in the very industries that are responsible for dictating who indeed deserves the right to have corrective medical procedures done for them in the first place.

As my brother John has for years come to the conclusion that my work in green architectural design has, for one reason or another, been a detriment to the corporate world he does the bookkeeping for, and, my old childhood friend (who himself was born with physically deformative congenital birth defects) has worked in the insurance industry (that denies medical claims to those who have such preexisting birth defects), both have done so pretty much always as a means to earn nothing more than a weekly paycheck yet neither of them has ever been able to recognize the fact that an all together different set of solutions actually exists.

Ironically, as both of these men today appear to be quite unhappy with themselves, and, as a result, choose to defer that unhappiness onto their perpetual role as guilt ridden Chicago Catholics who have been highly trained to blame everyone other than themselves for the failings of their own personal happiness, both of these men are employed in industries that are today rapidly becoming financially insolvent while at the same time, live in houses that are just as environmentally sick as their own negative environmental attitudes are.

With a virtual ignorance of the fact that either of them actually carry the very same genetic makeup as each and everyone of their own relatives, needless to say, both John and Kevin view themselves as some sort of strangely detached patriarchs of families that, in their own mind, are flawless in every manner. As the attitudes of these two men serve to cut off any form of progressive, health conscious dialog among their own family members, their overall refusal to do so is in fact serving to rot away the roots of their extended family tree as well.

On the other hand, and, after following in my father's footsteps to serve in the US military, forty years after my service to my country, it was indeed the US Military via the Veterans Administration that not only properly diagnosed my congenital birth disorder, but, through reconstructive ENT plastic surgery finally fixed what had been improperly diagnosed in me since my birth.

Now enrolled in the VA's “Million Veteran Program” which was established for the singular purpose of charting the DNA of multiple generations of veterans by digging deep into the physiological characteristics common to multiple generations in hopes of finding and correcting recurring medical abnormalities, I find myself immersed in dialog with master medical practitioners in every bit the same manner as I have been immersed in the development of green American architecture for the past forty years with equally skilled American designers and master tradespeople.

As it is again quite astounding to me that so many of my own family members steadfastly refuse to even discuss the prospect of genetically inherited medical abnormalities, the same refrain is heard quite often among other military veterans also enrolled in this ground breaking VA endeavor. As if for some entirely unknown reason those who deny the existence of such disorders and who in fact are the same people who would benefit the most from discussing the actual medical facts surrounding these ailments, well, let's just say that the reason I left Chicago to join the Navy, travel the world, travel and do business in just about every region of my own country several years ago was motivated solely by the fact that if I had not done so, I'd be just as spiritually unconscious, psychologically damaged and emotionally crippled as both John and Kevin.

As the benchmark used in the design and construction of advanced 21st century mixed energy use residential and commercial as well as industrial based energy efficient architecture in our America today is the comprehensive integration of a host of new building methods, new building materials and systems, the melding of many truly intelligent human minds is in fact enhanced by the fact that each and everyone of those minds came to be as a result of their natural tendency to utilize the genetically inherited brilliance their ancestors actually gifted to them. For myself, that gift came in the form of inheriting not only a love for architecture, the determination to uncover the reason why not only could I not breathe right as a child, the equal determination to understand why it was my father had the exact same medical ailments as myself and the broader understanding that upper respiratory ailments as a whole in our America are not only plaguing the vast majority of Americans in virtually every geographical region in our country, but, are doing so in large part due to the fact that inside and outside of the physical homes they live in hold molds and bacteria from virtually decades of environmental mismanagement of the land, the air and the water we rely upon for continued overall genetic based family health.



Think about this green essay for a moment.



Thanks for stopping by.










Mike Patrick Dahlke