There is the most interesting meme circulating throughout social media right now.
A meme is an idea, behavior, or style passed from person to person. Essentially, it is an element of culture that spreads. On the internet and via social media sites, memes can include photos, videos, ideas or blogs, and when spread rapidly from user to user, are said to have gone "viral."
There is a particular meme called "First World Problems." As the name implies, the ideas presented in this meme deal specifically with the types of predicament one may expect to encounter in a first-world country. Have to wait an extra two minutes at the fast-food drive-up window? Were there too many burned fries in that Happy Meal? Forget to plug in the smartphone last night? These are all examples of first-world problems. In the grand scheme of things they are less than catastrophic, which is what the meme is jokingly pointing out.
Every time I come across a clip of "First-World Problems," it reminds me of my experience in 2007 with Watoto (www.watoto.com). Watoto is a ministry of church in Uganda, and specializes in child rescue efforts. Due to its history of extreme violence, poverty, civil war and AIDS, Uganda is faced with a surfeit of orphaned children and vulnerable women. When a Ugandan parent succumbs to disease, or is swept up by the bloody wake of Civil War, their children are left to relatives or to fend for themselves.
Many Ugandan children were recruited to the "Lords Resistance Army" (LRA), which forced the kids into bloody military service or to be used as sex slaves. At one time, it was estimated that 80 percent of the LRA was comprised of child soldiers, aged 8 to 12 years, who were brainwashed into committing and witnessing the most appalling acts. Homes were burned, villages looted, genocide and rapes - these atrocities were all carried out by the LRA (I use past tense here - as of 2007 such violence was still taking place in Uganda. In 2012 President Obama sent military advisors to central Africa, and the number of atrocities have been greatly reduced).
My involvement with Watoto was exceptionally minor, but the experience is one I shall never forget. In September 2007 I received an unexpected phone call from friends of the family. They were hosting Ugandan children who were part of a Watoto youth choir group. One of the kids possessed a life-long dream of becoming a pilot. He had never seen a small aircraft up close, never bared witness to the intricacies of a cockpit, and he was 8 years old. Would it be possible to take him to the Monroe airport to see a small plane up close?
There is hope for kids like Wilson, the young soul who politely stood by as I brought the Cessna to a whirlwind halt by the airport tie-downs. In Uganda, orphaned children are taken to a Watoto-sponsored village complete with family atmosphere, a clinic, and schools where they are taught leadership skills. These services are so highly regarded that neighboring villages send their children to attend school at the Watoto system. Watoto also sponsors a choir, which has toured globe and will be in the Midwest in June.
With the wide-eyed excitement that only a kid can replicate, Wilson climbed into the passenger seat of the rented Cessna 152. Engine humming and with seat belts fastened, we taxied to takeoff position. I asked Wilson if he was ready. An enthusiastic yes, and I gunned the engine. The airframe glided effortlessly into the air, and I habitually looked out my window to watch the runway sink beneath the landing gear.
"We're going up. We're going up." Wilson's attention was focused out the window, yet the radio headset captured every iota of his exhilaration. I brought the plane to altitude and swung over Monroe. "That's my village," I said as I pointed out the window. Wilson was beside himself as he fairly screamed, "That's like 100, no 200 houses." Every bit of the child's enthusiasm rang out as he motioned upwards, "That's the sky - we're in the sky."
I kept my hands on the yoke, but offered to let Wilson take the controls, to feel the response of the aircraft. "Gently now, use small, soft movements." We banked right and left, pulled up and sank down, to his infinite bemusement.
Next came my favorite: touch-and-goes. I brought the Cessna around for an approach, settled down onto the runway with a quick squawk of rubber, gunned the engine, and we were off again. "Dat was veree goot." Wilson was impressed. "Let's do dat three more times." Enroute he jabbed a finger toward each of the airplane's gauges, wondering the purpose of each.
At the completion of the third landing I braked, bringing the little 152 to a steady halt. "We're on the ground now." My passenger reported, as I back-taxied to the tarmac. We climbed out of the cockpit as my friends - Wilson's hosts - came over. It was explained to me that each child on the choir tour had lost at least one parent. Thus, Wilson views the entire world as his family.
Wilson approached to give me a hug, his head barely at waist-level. "Thank you, uncle." No thanks could have been greater.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
A meme is an idea, behavior, or style passed from person to person. Essentially, it is an element of culture that spreads. On the internet and via social media sites, memes can include photos, videos, ideas or blogs, and when spread rapidly from user to user, are said to have gone "viral."
There is a particular meme called "First World Problems." As the name implies, the ideas presented in this meme deal specifically with the types of predicament one may expect to encounter in a first-world country. Have to wait an extra two minutes at the fast-food drive-up window? Were there too many burned fries in that Happy Meal? Forget to plug in the smartphone last night? These are all examples of first-world problems. In the grand scheme of things they are less than catastrophic, which is what the meme is jokingly pointing out.
Every time I come across a clip of "First-World Problems," it reminds me of my experience in 2007 with Watoto (www.watoto.com). Watoto is a ministry of church in Uganda, and specializes in child rescue efforts. Due to its history of extreme violence, poverty, civil war and AIDS, Uganda is faced with a surfeit of orphaned children and vulnerable women. When a Ugandan parent succumbs to disease, or is swept up by the bloody wake of Civil War, their children are left to relatives or to fend for themselves.
Many Ugandan children were recruited to the "Lords Resistance Army" (LRA), which forced the kids into bloody military service or to be used as sex slaves. At one time, it was estimated that 80 percent of the LRA was comprised of child soldiers, aged 8 to 12 years, who were brainwashed into committing and witnessing the most appalling acts. Homes were burned, villages looted, genocide and rapes - these atrocities were all carried out by the LRA (I use past tense here - as of 2007 such violence was still taking place in Uganda. In 2012 President Obama sent military advisors to central Africa, and the number of atrocities have been greatly reduced).
My involvement with Watoto was exceptionally minor, but the experience is one I shall never forget. In September 2007 I received an unexpected phone call from friends of the family. They were hosting Ugandan children who were part of a Watoto youth choir group. One of the kids possessed a life-long dream of becoming a pilot. He had never seen a small aircraft up close, never bared witness to the intricacies of a cockpit, and he was 8 years old. Would it be possible to take him to the Monroe airport to see a small plane up close?
There is hope for kids like Wilson, the young soul who politely stood by as I brought the Cessna to a whirlwind halt by the airport tie-downs. In Uganda, orphaned children are taken to a Watoto-sponsored village complete with family atmosphere, a clinic, and schools where they are taught leadership skills. These services are so highly regarded that neighboring villages send their children to attend school at the Watoto system. Watoto also sponsors a choir, which has toured globe and will be in the Midwest in June.
With the wide-eyed excitement that only a kid can replicate, Wilson climbed into the passenger seat of the rented Cessna 152. Engine humming and with seat belts fastened, we taxied to takeoff position. I asked Wilson if he was ready. An enthusiastic yes, and I gunned the engine. The airframe glided effortlessly into the air, and I habitually looked out my window to watch the runway sink beneath the landing gear.
"We're going up. We're going up." Wilson's attention was focused out the window, yet the radio headset captured every iota of his exhilaration. I brought the plane to altitude and swung over Monroe. "That's my village," I said as I pointed out the window. Wilson was beside himself as he fairly screamed, "That's like 100, no 200 houses." Every bit of the child's enthusiasm rang out as he motioned upwards, "That's the sky - we're in the sky."
I kept my hands on the yoke, but offered to let Wilson take the controls, to feel the response of the aircraft. "Gently now, use small, soft movements." We banked right and left, pulled up and sank down, to his infinite bemusement.
Next came my favorite: touch-and-goes. I brought the Cessna around for an approach, settled down onto the runway with a quick squawk of rubber, gunned the engine, and we were off again. "Dat was veree goot." Wilson was impressed. "Let's do dat three more times." Enroute he jabbed a finger toward each of the airplane's gauges, wondering the purpose of each.
At the completion of the third landing I braked, bringing the little 152 to a steady halt. "We're on the ground now." My passenger reported, as I back-taxied to the tarmac. We climbed out of the cockpit as my friends - Wilson's hosts - came over. It was explained to me that each child on the choir tour had lost at least one parent. Thus, Wilson views the entire world as his family.
Wilson approached to give me a hug, his head barely at waist-level. "Thank you, uncle." No thanks could have been greater.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
