All It Takes Is A Little Love

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it…always.”

Mahatma Gandhi

I had not been to my favorite nail salon for almost three months. I had to stop many weeks prior to having a total knee replacement and I was told not to do such things for even more weeks after the surgery. I missed the pampering that I receive when I am there and most of all the sweet manicurist who always makes me feel so special. She and I talk about family and dreams and the kind of things that women understand. So when It was finally okay for me to return I truly looked forward to spending time with a person that I greatly respect and have grown to think of as a friend. 

I have to admit that I was somewhat shocked to see that I was the only person present in the usually bustling business. My manicurist, Kim, greeted me with a big smile and began showering me with questions about how my surgery had been and how I was feeling. Once we had caught up on news about our respective family members the topic of the state of the nation quietly came to the forefront of our conversation. 

Kim pointed out the obvious lack of customers on a day that might otherwise have been busy. She felt that it was related to the rising costs of groceries and gasoline. After all luxuriating in a salon is something that can rather easily be written out of a budget when finances get stretched. As she mentioned that even people in other countries were feeling the economic pinch of these times I silently counted myself fortunate to be able to be a bit frivolous with the funds that I get from homeschooling and tutoring. I began to wonder how many people were not just struggling but anxious about the security of their jobs. I worried about Kim and what would happen to her and her family if the lack of customers caused the salon to close. I viscerally felt the backlash of our shaky economy in a way that had not occurred to me during my cloistered time related to my knee surgery. 

I began to occur to me that it was not my imagination that stores seemed to have fewer people inside of late. I wondered if this was also related to fears causing people to cut back on their purchases. With inflation caused by tariffs and higher prices caused by a surprise war with Iran there is an uncertainty hovering over the world unlike I have seen in so many years. 

I grew up in a single parent home. My mother always seemed to find ways to keep us housed and well fed but there were times when I wondered if she was privy to some kind of magic. I knew how small her income was and found it rather amazing that she was able to hold things together with so little. To this day I think that she should have written a book on how to manage a household with a bit of imagination. She knew how to keep us well fed with her culinary magic that took a pot roast through many iterations during the course of a week. 

Now my brothers and I live like royalty thanks to our mother’s ability to keep us safe while we navigated toward our life’s work. We were part of a fortunate generation that had so many opportunities that no longer exist for our young people today. We old folks like to brag about our humble beginnings but the truth is that we were able to purchase gasoline for twenty five cents a gallon or less. Our first cars cost a few thousand dollars. We were able to purchase homes for twenty thousand dollars and even though our salaries may have been proportionally small we had good health benefits and sometimes even pension plans that would sustain us in our old age. 

Sadly our president thinks that he has every right to decide whether or not to levy tariffs and when and where he can declare war. Instead of Congress rationally discussing such issues the majority Republicans seem to be content to do nothing to stop him and then to defeat any attempts by the Democrats to curb his enthusiasm for reshaping the world to his own desires. Thus prices are high and ordinary citizens are struggling and wondering what happened to the promises of better days with Trump at the helm. People are truly worried just as Kim pointed out and I continue to be concerned as well.

I plan to take part in the No Kings protest tomorrow. It will be my fourth time to do so since Trump became our president. With each passing week I have found more and more reasons to liken him to an authoritarian king who decorates his office with gold and remains ignorant of the suffering of so many of the people. I urge everyone to find a way to use their voices and their influence to let Trump and the Republican party know that his flaunting of the Constitution and our democratic principles is not sustainable. Make your concerns known. Your silence insures that nothing will be done to set things right. Find the issue that bothers you the most and then use the power that the First Amendment gave all American citizens. Use that freedom of speech. Join us as we peacefully let it be known that this is not the beloved country we have known. Let Republicans know that we expect them to assert themselves and stop bowing to the outrageous demands of a president overstepping his powers. The whole world needs us to help set things right. As Gandhi reminds us the tyranny will ultimately fail. It always does and we should all be on the right side of truth and freedom when it happens.

I won’t name names but I will never forget the time when a new student came to my school and wreaked havoc for many years after. Because teachers often relied on alphabetical seating I found myself in close proximity to him over and over again. Somehow we always ended up in the same class and almost always I seemed to be chosen to endure his bad behavior because I was a quiet child who had been counseled by my parents to respect the teachers and my fellow students. My mother had also cautioned me to ignore any taunts from my classmates as a sign of immaturity or perhaps a lack of guidance at home. Thus I learned how to tune out the insults and attempts at bullying me that the egregious kid seemed to find joy in producing.  

Through the years of putting up with him I had grown weary of being the better person when this boy set forth on one of his many attempts to raise my ire. I suppose that his abuse had finally gotten to me so I hatched a plan in my mind to gig him into behaving so badly that maybe he might finally be sent away. I waited for a moment to outfox him and my patience finally paid off. 

It was an ordinary day and the kid was up to his usual high jinx when the teacher very professionally and politely asked him to stand up to read a paragraph in our history book. He was actually a good reader with a booming voice that made him a wise choice for public recitations. For some reason, however, he decided that he preferred not to follow her command even though he usually enjoyed the limelight of being chosen to read in spite of his other offensive foibles. On this day he sat defiantly in his chair and dared her with his stare to push him too far.

I suppose that the teacher was as weary of his recalcitrance as I was because instead of selecting someone else to read she drew a line in the stand. She insisted that he do as he had been told. That is when I saw my opportunity to push him to a point of no return. Because I sat right behind him, I leaned forward and whispered that he did not need to comply. After hesitating for a moment he boldly told the teacher that he was tired and that he did not want to read. He further taunted her by saying that she had no right to force him to do anything. 

As the enraged teacher began walking toward the boy’s desk I prodded him one more time by whispering that he was well within in his rights. Somehow he was emboldened to plant his feet in total defiance and when the teacher was finally standing over him he made the huge mistake of cursing with words that shocked us all. 

Everything escalated from there. The next thing I knew he had lost it so much that he came out of his chair with his fist clenched as though he was ready to hit the teacher. At that point I really worried about what I had done and wondered if the whole situation was getting more out of hand than I had imagined. The teacher stopped him cold when she ordered one of my classmates to run to the office to get the principal. Upon hearing those words the boy collapsed back into his chair crying like a baby and begging for forgiveness from the teacher. 

We all sat in a kind of stunned silence as we awaited the conclusion of this horrific situation. The only sound was that of the sobbing boy who at that point realized that he had gone too far. When the principal arrived he meekly followed her out of the classroom and then our teacher continued the lesson as though nothing had happened. 

I suddenly felt guilty for what I had done and yet when the bully who had tortured so many kids for so long never returned I felt a bit like a heroine who would never be able to admit my part in the terrible ending of his time at our school. Instead the lesson that I learned was that those who bully us are usually more fragile than we are. They use force and insults to control us but in reality that are very weak. 

I would lie if I said that I felt sorrow for that kid. Over many years he had insulted authority and done his best to find vulnerable classmates to torment. I never understood how he had lasted so long without dire consequences for his behavior and yet it bothered me that I had purposely pushed him to be defiant. 

I’ve thought about that awful boy so many times over the years. I wonder what eventually happened to him. I would like to think that he outgrew his domineering ways but part of me worries that he only continued his hatefulness. His was not a matter of immaturity but a seemingly determined way to feel better about himself by asserting his power over others.  On the other hand maybe just maybe he learned something that day and went on to mature and treat others with respect and kindness. I suppose I will never know. 

Even as a teacher whenever I encountered such broken students I found it difficult to understand what horrific things made them the way that they were. I saw that some of them wanted to be different but literally did not know how to be so. I heard from parents who were afraid of their own children. I listened to stories about some of these bullies that were frightening. Somehow either by dent of some terrible mental illness or lack of guidance the existence of such souls was a constant challenge that happened over and over again. Once in a great while I was actually successful in helping to turn these kinds of children around but most of the time their difficulties were too ingrained to change. 

Now we have a man in the White House who showed signs of such ugliness when he was a boy. He taunted his classmates and his siblings but nobody really stopped him. They simply pushed him from one place to another as he lied and cheated and bullied his way through life. They flattered him by implying that he was somehow better and stronger than others to keep him at bay. They created a monster who is terrorizing the world. At this point it’s time for all of us to call him out, not with guile but with courage and honor. He is too old to change but not too old to be held accountable for all the chaos he has created.  As a child he was just an annoyance. As the leader of one of the most powerful countries on earth he is a danger to us all.

Before my father died he read poems and stories to me on a regular basis. He spent his evenings at home reading for hours. On weekends he took me to bookstores where he always added one more volume to his growing literary collection. On vacation trips he stopped at bookstores whenever he saw one. I cut my teeth on books so it is no accident that reading them has been central to my entire life. 

I remember when I got my first library card. It was an exciting moment given that I was able to check out more than one tome at a time. Even though I would have been able to keep the books for two weeks I tended to devour my choices almost immediately so that I would be able to return for more in only a week. 

One of my fondest memories is riding my bicycle across a bridge that linked my neighborhood with Garden Villas where a bookmobile showed up once a week. The librarian and I became good friends mostly because there weren’t that many people who visited as regularly as I did. Once I had gone through many of the titles in the gigantic van the sweet lady who brought me so much joy would ask me what I would like see the next time I came. It was so much like owning a treasured and unlimited number of books without having to pay for them. 

I can still see the tiny library on wheels and the woman who brought a world of knowledge to my backdoor. It was quiet and cool inside even on the hottest days of summer. She was iconic to me with her glasses and the graying hair the she wore in a bun. It seemed to please her that I was so excited about reading. 

I was also able to check out books at my school library and it was there that I also met a wonderful woman who catered to my excitement about discovering new authors and genres that kept me feeling adventurous. Eventually she moved from the elementary school to the high school that I attended. When I saw her there I knew that I was going to enjoy the four years of my last youthful moments.

A library card is as good as a ticket to an exotic place. I had a passport to knowledge that I otherwise would not have discovered. Even though my physical world was still quite limited, the world of my mind was constantly expanding. My reading became especially enjoyable when my high school English teacher provided us with lists of some of the best books ever written. I became addicted to poetry, fiction and nonfiction from classical to modern day authors. 

I still prefer the feel of an old time book over the concept of finding new stories online. There is something spiritual about holding a volume in my hands and wondering who else had found wisdom and happiness in turning the pages in search of new ideas. 

I have followed in my father’s footsteps. If I see a bookstore on my travels I must enter and usually walk out with a new volume to store in my home. Once in a blue moon I cull my stock of reading, but it is always difficult to say goodbye to a book that kept me entertained or privy to learning that I had never before occurred to me. If I am ever to be accused of being a hoarder it will be because of my books. 

To this very day I find comfort just in being around books. I enjoy talking about them with others and comparing my impressions with theirs. I get excited about learning something that I never knew before. I gobble up historical tracts that tell the stories of people who have come before me. I like encountering new words and ideas. I am open to almost every kind of genre as long as the writing advances me to new places and points of view. I am so enamored of reading that I find it strange that some people never take the time to pick up a newspaper or magazine or a modern or classic book. How can we have so much knowledge at our fingertips and not be eager to embrace it?

One of my favorite Twilight Zone episodes is the story of a man who enjoyed reading as much as I do. Suddenly there was destruction of most of the world and its people but he was content because all he really needed was a continuous stock of books to keep him company. Sadly in an unexpected accident his spectacles were ruined. The story ended with him sobbing because he was no longer able to see. There he was surrounded by a library worthy of Alexandria with no way of making the lines and markings on the page clear enough to focus his eyes. He was doomed to be alone for the rest of his life. No more would the books keep him company as he had hoped. Somehow I viscerally felt his pain.

Those of us who have known the pure joy of reading a good book cannot imagine a time in which we would no longer be able to read. Losing our citizenship in the world of knowledge that books provide would be an unbearable devastation. Thank goodness the resources that I crave are all still available. I plan to keep reading and learning hopefully for all of my days.  

I often think of George Bailey when I consider how narrow the experiences of my life have been compared to how I thought they would be. Responsibility for others has defined all of my choices beginning with my father’s death when eight year old me somehow felt that I had to watch over my mother and brothers. I became the very good girl, unwilling to push the envelope of my actions lest I somehow cause undue pain for my mother. I was the person who walked away from adventurous moments, staying within the confines of rules that narrowed the experiences that I had in my growing up years. 

Everything about me became conservative save for my political thinking. On paper I appeared to be a very lackluster individual who stayed within the boundaries. When my mother experienced the first signs of mental illness I became even more determined not to be someone who rocked the boat of life. I made sure that I lived within minutes of where she resided so that I might reach her quickly if she needed my help. I dared not even think of moving across town much less out of the city of my birth. My life choices were all predicated on the sense of responsibility that I felt for the members of my family.

I chose a career that would allow me to have a fixed schedule with time off that I might use to care for my children and to be always vigilant of my mother. Thankfully teaching was incredibly fulfilling and because I almost always worked with children whose lives were constrained by poverty and challenges I continued to learn more and more about human nature without having to travel the world. Marching in place was not as awful as I had once thought it would be. Like George Bailey I eventually realized that while mine had been a life often defined by the difficulties of others, it was nonetheless one that brought me a sense of accomplishment and contentment.

Somehow I expanded my points of view from every person who came across my zone of influence. I learned more from my students than I conveyed to them in my lessons. In them I saw the power of resilience even in the face of dire situations. I found joy in playing a tiny role in supporting them in their journeys to adulthood. Seeing them achieve more than I had ever dared to attempt was magical. 

I see all of those faces staring at me as I teach them how to unravel the beautiful synchronicity of mathematics. I remember the little girl whose Christmas dream was to finally have a bed of her own that would save her from snoozing on the floor each night. I recall the feeling of kinship that I felt with my fellow educators who so earnestly worked to make a meaningful difference in the lives of their students. Every interaction changed me and made me the kind of citizen of the world that my high school English teacher often challenged us to be. I realized that I did not need to travel to become a more understanding person. Everything l that I needed to know was all around me every single day. 

My two daughters have been my pride and joy. I did my best to encourage them to be independent minded. I did such a good job that I sometimes wonder if I made them too strong and confident for a world that still underestimates the value of women. I let them fly freely through life so much so that sometimes their friends would comment that they were not typical girls at all. That is what I like best about them. They are free thinkers unwilling to bow to public opinion about how women should behave. They are unafraid to disagree with me and when they do I know that I have always encouraged them to burst through the artificial boundaries that all too often keep people from being themselves. 

I have watched the city of my birth changing from a slow moving town with a population less than a million people to becoming the fourth largest city in the United States. I have rejoiced in watching the diversity of Houston grow from a homegrown crowd to a citizenry from all over the world living in harmony. I watched segregation dying in real time bringing the Black community from the back of the bus into the mainstream of power. I too grew in my thinking as I watched the changes but also saw those trapped in outmoded belief systems trying to move our city back to a moment in time that was toxic and unforgiving. 

Life has crept by and sped by all at the same time. I spent a lifetime being a good girl and a rebel all at once. I kept my mother safe and healthy more often than not. I grew in wisdom and did my best to pass down my experiences to the many young people in my care. While my life appears to be quite uneventful on paper, I know how every single encounter with thousands of people has changed me for the better and widened my horizons in ways that not all the travel in the world would have done. I have been to the moon and back in my own living room. I like the person I have become and I am content to proclaim that mine has been a wonderful life. 

I wore my “No Kings” shirt into the grocery store a few days ago. It’s blue and simply says NOPE in large white letters. A crown hangs lopsidedly on the letter E. Most people have no idea what the shirt means so I rarely get any comments about it one way or another. Thus I was quite surprised when the cashier immediately remarked that she loved my shirt as she casually keyed the prices of the food I had purchased into the register. 

I was a bit stunned that she had even noticed what I was wearing so my response was simply to thank her for the compliment but she was not finished with her commentary. She asked me if I had gone to any of the No Kings protests and I mentioned that I had been to three of them so far. I pointed out that there will be one on March 28, but I am uncertain as to whether or not I will be able to attend because I am still recovering from a total knee replacement.  She thanked me for protesting in the past and then asked me why I thought that Americans will not vote for a woman. for president.

She went on and on as I quietly thought about the role of women in the United States and across the world who had contributed so much to the betterment of humankind with intelligence and courage. As my mind flipped quickly through their stories I too began to wonder why there is so often mistrust of women in leadership roles but a willingness to give less than bright men the helm of state over and over again. 

The truth is that the mythologies that appraise the abilities of women still too often remain stuck in negative stereotyping. Women are often judged with a much higher standard than men. The old trope that women are too emotional to be trusted to make rational decisions is very much alive in much of the world and definitely in the United States. Such thinking led our Founding Fathers to ignore the potential of women to make good choices by choosing to deny them the right to vote. Not even Abigail Adams’ plea to her husband to “not forget the women”was enough to convince the men who created our new government that women were smart enough to be trusted with a voice in government. 

Great Britain, Germany, Mexico, Israel and India have all had women at the helm of government just to name a few, but here in the United States we focus more on how a woman laughs or uses emotions to make decisions when considering whether or not she has what it takes to be president. When push comes to shove many would rather place their trust in a male bully with openly racist ideas than a well educated and experienced woman whom they ridiculously fear will bring us to the brink of war with her raging hormones.

Let’s face it. Women are still relegated to mostly supporting roles in business and government even as women now outnumber men in achieving higher educational levels. Too many people want to put women back in the roles of housewife and mothers whether they choose that occupation or not. While women indeed have more choices for how to live their lives than ever before, even those who ascend to high ranks in the world of work generally have lower salaries than men at the same level. The truth is that women have to dance backward in heels to demonstrate their abilities.

While I would not deny the progress that women have slowly made in the United States, I do have to wonder why it has taken so long for them to be considered the true equals of men. Obviously women are not as physically strong as men in certain circumstances but their mental acuity measures up at every level. Women are capable of successfully managing everything from a home to a corporation. They may have different and less aggressive styles of leadership but they have demonstrated time and again that in matters of the mind they are as outstanding as their male counterparts. 

Perhaps we have not yet found the perfect female candidates to run for office against men but if we would fairly judge those who have tried to lead us we would do well to look at their track records and listen to what they have to say rather than homing in on trivial judgements of superficialities.

I have read countless biographies of great women and as a member of that group as well I have often wondered why they have always had such a difficult time breaking the glass ceiling that feels so much lower than the one that men have conquered Even a brief look at Abigail Adams makes it clear that she was better educated, more well read, and many times more intuitive than her husband John but he became president while she never even had the right to vote. 

It is often said that Eleanor Roosevelt was Franklin’s conscience. She is the one who created the idea of talking regularly with the people of the United States. She pushed for the civil rights of all people when he was reluctant to move in that direction.

Even I have been guilty of overlooking the accomplishments of women in my family. I brag about my brother who worked as an engineer for NASA and helped to design the navigation system for the International Space Station. I simply mention that my sister-in-law was a NASA engineer as well. Only recently I was looking at awards my brother had received for his work then I glanced at a massive collection of kudos presented to my sister-in-law. I saw that she had twice as many awards and eventually served as a spokesperson for the international space program. Somehow even I had underestimated her contributions, a tendency that seems to exist for all women.

Thanks to historians we learn over and over again just how much potential lies in the marrow of America’s women. We should constantly encourage our ladies to be the best in whatever they strive to be. It’s way past time for showing our trust of them in whatever roles they choose to attain. We have not yet truly seen how much they are capable of achieving. It is long past time to set aside the unfounded distrust of them. They have so much to offer.  We need not fear how well they will do.