All It Takes Is A Little Love

The Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals has upheld the right of the state of Texas to require every public school classroom to have a display of the Ten Commandments. The posters are directed to be placed in the front of the room and be large enough so that everyone can see and read them. While this new ruling from the state legislature may seem harmless on the face of things I propose a few problems that I see with this situation.

The first problem is one of space and logistics: I have always been a mathematics teacher. My classrooms have had either large blackboards or white boards dominating the front of the room. Any bulletin boards near the front, if they even existed, were rather small. In almost every school where I worked we were also told to place a poster outlining class rules at the front so that they would be easily seen by every student. I wonder how both the Ten Commandments and the class rules are going to fit the allotted space. Will class rules have to take a back seat to the ten commandments or will teachers have to use some of the board space to take care of this dilemma? While this is a small problem it is nonetheless very real. Space inside any classroom is limited and much of what teachers display focuses on subject matter. If there is to be a site for descriptions of preferred behaviors the offerings need to be small enough to leave room for all of the required bulletins.

The second and most serious problem is what to do if students ask questions about the Ten Commandments poster: According to the ruling teachers only have to post the Commandments. Theoretically they do not have to discuss them like they do with the class rules but years of experience tell me that students will indeed have questions that may be difficult to either ignore or address. My understanding is that the Protestant rendering of the ten commandments will be used even though they are slightly different from the Catholic and Jewish versions. What will a teacher do if a students points out such variation and wants to know why the Protestant version was used rather than the other two? What will a teacher say if a student whose religion is not Christian asks who the one God is supposed to be and who are the false gods? Obviously the posting of commandments from a religious source sets up an uncomfortable situation that will no doubt be challenged by students. 

The third problem is that from a educational point of view the Ten Commandments will create a diversion from the content of lessons. A mathematics teacher has a very rushed schedule for delivering all of the knowledge and skills that the students are supposed to learn in a given school year. Taking time out to justify a religious poster detracts from the main purpose of the school. Students will most certainly want to know why the beliefs of only one religion are being prominently featured in the classroom. Those of the many other faiths will no doubt feel as though they are being ignored and perhaps even being subjected to unwanted pressures to accept one way of thinking. I suspect that teachers will have to allow for uncomfortable and distracting protests and discussions from students and their parents. 

I know that there is a naive belief that posting the Ten Commandments is not an effort to influence young people’s spiritual beliefs but my own life experiences tell me that their will be individuals who will earnestly attempt to go a step further in favoring one religious group over another. I have many times seen devout souls promising to allow those not in line with their beliefs to be left alone only to push them to change over time. 

In two very personal instances one of my Catholic daughters and my Catholic granddaughter ended up feeling very uncomfortable because fervent protestants felt the need to push them to change their beliefs. In both cases subtle pressure was slowly ratcheted up until they were literally being told that they risked eternal damnation if they did not conform to the “true faith.” How are we to be assured that every single teacher will adhere to the Constitutional requirement regarding freedom of religion? One small breach of this right can potentially lead to big trouble. 

I very much believe in God and I have done my best to follow the Ten Commandments just as they were taught to me in Catholic school. I had religion classes every single day for twelve years. I went to mass on Sundays. My faith is deeply embedded in my beliefs but mine was a choice originally made by my parents and later confirmed by my own decisions. This kind of choice should only be the domain of parents and each individual. No child should be subjected to any particular faith in a public school setting even with a seemingly generic poster at the front of the classroom. There are too many differing personal beliefs to consider if we are to be fair. Will we provide the same kind of respect to all faiths? Will our classrooms be fair by displaying the tenets of every single religion? Will we allow agnostics and atheists the ability to post their views? If we cannot be fair for all then we should not be willing to cross the line of public versus religious education. Only parents should have the authority to make spiritual decisions for their children and once those children are of age it should become their choice. 

In fairness to all, posters derived from the core beliefs of any religion need to be removed unless they are part of a study of all religions of the world in a history class. I cut my educational teeth on a system that respected all faiths. We were not allowed to pray during the school day but a teacher was permitted to gather with like minded students before or after school to pray or read the bible. We allowed certain religious children to stay seated without question during the Pledge of Allegiance. We knew that some of our Muslim students would be fasting at different times of the year. We had students wearing required clothing associated with their faiths. It was a mutually understood protection for each and every student. We left religious education to the parents. I still believe that is how it should be.  

I boast about my hometown of Houston quite often. Some may say that because I have lived in Houston for all of my life I have no way to compare it to other places. Many who come to Houston for a visit focus on the traffic, the heat, the humidity, and the lack of zoning that all come together to create a city that seems to have no purpose other than providing jobs and houses for people. They speak of the hurricanes and floods that endanger the citizens with a certain level of regularity. They insist that there are no natural features of the city that make it stand out as beautiful. Instead cities like Austin, Dallas and San Antonio get much more favorable reviews than Houston ever does, thus its only claim to fame seems to be that it is the fourth largest city in the United States and perhaps the most diverse. 

Indeed all of the above ideas are somewhat true but they tend to be the observations of those who do not take the time to discover the heart and soul of Houston. The reality is that Houston people are some of the best folks anyone might ever hope to meet. For the most part we celebrate our differences and do our best to make sure that everyone is respected. Still Houston is much more than just nice people who always answer the calls for help. It is indeed a fun place with more to do that even most of the citizens ever discover. 

Of course we have our sports teams that enliven our town throughout the year but we are also known for having some of the best cuisine in the entire United States. When I leave Houston I always find myself yearning for the culinary excellence and variety of my city. There are few places where the dining experience is so wonderful and it would literally take years to experience all of the wonderful places that cater to our taste buds. 

Houston is also as weird as Austin in its own way. We have a crazy art project called the Orange Show which is one of the finest examples of folk art anywhere. Every year over two hundred art cars parade through our streets delighting thousands who are awed by the artful renderings of automobiles sporting the creative genius of the community. We celebrate the Houston Heights and the Montrose area where everyone feels free to be themselves and a full-fledged China town offers shopping for exotic food, clothing and other goodies.

Houston has it’s sophisticated side as well with a symphony orchestra, a ballet company and theaters offering live musicals and plays. There are multiple universities in my city offering degrees in virtually any area. Our medical center is one of the best in the world and people come far and wide in search of top notch healthcare. 

We have an museums along with a natural science museum and a fabulous zoo. Tucked in central Houston is a Holocaust Museum and a Children’s Museum. We even have museums celebrating different cultures. We boast the Space Museum on the campus of NASA. When those rockets head for the moon they are communicating with the headquarters that made “Houston we have a problem”famous. 

On any given weekend there is some kind of celebratory event happening in every corner of the city. A devoted individual would be able to fill a calendar with things to see and do. Our rodeo is a weeks long celebration of customs, food and entertainment. Each year the Houston Garden Club hosts an extravaganza of floral delights. For the adventurous the Gulf of Mexico is only an hour drive away. 

I can’t possibly name everything wonderful about Houston but I do know that for many people we are just a big crowded city with little to offer other than traffic. Those of us who have lived here truly understand how much more there is to this place. We understand why it continues to be one of the fastest growing cities in the United States. We are an island of acceptance and understanding in a state too often known for its rigid ideologies. The church going folk here live in peace with a population so diverse that anyone is sure to find a group that feels comfortable. We really are a place of peace and love. 

It would be nice if we had a mountain view or a nice lake or river to provide some scenery but the flat land is all we have. It is in the people of Houston that we find our glories and I just wish that everyone might see what a grand place this is to be. 

Imagine we all walked into the world with the belief that each person was inherently worthy. Imagine if our goal was to help each recognize that we are worthy of being loved. Imagine if we sought to listen more than we spoke.  Fred Rogers

With all of the violence and hate in the world today I find myself looking back on my life and thinking of the moments when I felt that it was possible for humans to actually get along with each other. Watching Mr Rogers when I was a young girl always made me feel comfortable and positive about the direction in which the world was moving. He reminded me of my Uncle Willie who was a good and humble man who always seemed to be thinking about other people rather than himself. He was so observant that he noticed someone who was feeling sad or lost when nobody else did. He loved everyone with the same quiet and reassuring compassion that Mr. Rogers seemed to have. 

Of course the world is not a wonderland filled with puppets and nice people. As I grew I saw anger, misunderstanding, unwillingness to get along or attempt to understand our differing points of view. My college years were dominated by protests, movements and assassinations. I suppose that all of the violence made me realize how truly fragile life is and when I met the man who would be my husband I found no reason to wait to begin our life together. I was quite young when I married but the loss of my father and my mother’s mental illness had transformed me into an old soul who knew how to adult. Somehow the challenges that I had already endured insured that I would adjust to situations without a blink but I still wondered if we would ever reach a time when the world felt more like the one that Fred Rogers imagined. 

I longed for such a place more and more as I worked with one group of students after another. I saw how earnest and worthy every one of them was no matter what circumstances had affected their lives. Rich and poor, from many different cultures and races they all wanted the same things that I wanted, a world that would love them just as they were. 

There were indeed times when I believed that we were moving closer and closer to the kind of world where every person is treasured. There were of course outliers just as there will always be but for the most part we seemed to be working together as humans to listen more and to help every person reach his or her potential. I watched the city in which I grew become one of the most diverse places in the world and we actually got along and helped each other. I had no idea that hate was brewing in an undercurrent. I naively believed that we had conquered so much of the hate that has plagued the world that nothing would change our forward motion toward the kind of world that Mr. Rogers envisioned with his puppets and little trains. 

The middle of my life was enchanting. I loved my work. I loved my family. I loved my friends who were many. I had sisters among my friends and spent weekends laughing and living life with them. My daughters were smart and beautiful and just as open and honest and loving as I had always hoped they would be. Our world did become more and more willing to embrace our differing ways of being. Nothing was perfect but it was a time that felt so good then fear knocked on the door and stole our innocence and willingness to trust each other when two planes flew right through the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City. 

For a time it felt as though we were going to take the high road as humans. We worked together to sort things out. We did not break, but a fear silently took hold that cultivated the kind of closed thinking that we had seemed to put behind us. We differed on how to deal with our changing world. Schools became killing grounds. Guns became the choice for feeling comfortable in a world that felt dangerous. Climate change caught up with us. People that I loved with all of my heart began to die along with the older generation of my family. As a people we seemed unable to agree on how to get along. A movement began that strictly classified people as being worthy or unworthy. We seemed to be living on a razor’s edge and then the whole world was sickened by a virus that killed millions before we humans were able to find ways to halt its progress. How to proceed became a political football rather than a moment to work together for the good of all. We divided into camps and pointed fingers at each other. The deadly shootings continued because we were never able to agree on ways to protect everyone. The Mr. Rogers dream seemed to be shattered when even our system of voting felt suddenly fragile with a president chiding his followers to demand that a legal election was rigged. Our nation’s capital became the site of an insurrection and the fabric of our cooperative spirit was rent in two. 

Is this how it felt during the Civil War when brother fought against brother? Are we not thinking of how badly this is affecting our young? Why are we insisting that one group is good and the other is bad? Why are we allowing the man who leads our nation to do whatever he wants without consulting Congress or wanting to know how each of us feels. Why have we become enemies of each other? Why do the words from our president sound so threatening to anyone who does not agree with him? Why does the violence seem to be consuming us?

There is a level of nationwide anxiety unlike any I have ever before seen. Little wonder that anyone with a sick mind is reacting badly. We don’t know whose words to trust anymore. We are urged to turn on each other by the very man who should be pulling us together. We are involved in a war that we never wanted. Our lives are upside down and inside out and if we speak out we are counted as being treasonous. Worst of all there is no end to the violence. Up is down and down is up. Truth is difficult to find. 

I am old enough and tough enough to know that we will get through this juncture and maybe even restore hope and trust in or nation. We are all brothers and sisters with dreams and needs to be recognized. We should all demand that nobody should be allowed  to make us enemies without criticism. We must come together and stop the violence and hate. It begins with those in whom we entrust our votes and our expectations. We will only heal when we recognize that everyone is worthy of being loved and when we begin to listen to each other again. No one person should be able to make us turn on one another no matter what his status may be. If we are willing to try we may imagine a better world and we must get there without violence. Mr. Rogers dream can become a reality if only we try to follow his example of believing that everyone is worthy of our love.

Some days doing the best we can will still fall short of what we would like to do but life isn’t perfect on any front and doing what we can with what we have is the most we should expect of ourselves…Fred Rogers

We live in a fast paced world. From the time that we are born we begin a process of becoming that often involves expectations of the kind of persons we might ultimately become. Our parents guide us through milestones, teach us many of the fundamentals of living and hopefully love us so deeply that we are inoculated with confidence and determination. 

We go through phases of feeling both confident and awkward. We ask questions about the world around us and have the urge to explore under the watchful eyes of the adults tasked with encouraging us to be our best. Expectations both guide and bolster us as well as frighten us. Growing up is serious work and there are often times when we worry that we may not measure up to the dreams that begin to form in our minds. 

I remember having so many questions when I was a teenager. I was unsure of myself and how I wanted to live my life. I had a bad habit of comparing myself to others and being left feeling as though I was somehow less that I ought to be. It would be many years before I finally realized that everyone endures a bit of self consciousness in those growing up years. Luckily I mostly encountered happiness and lots of support during that time to keep me from over thinking about my seemingly obvious flaws. 

There comes a time when we are suddenly deemed to be adults who should be capable of caring for ourselves. Never mind that deep down inside we are so uncertain that we are ready to become the adults in the room. We have triumphs and times when we make so many mistakes that we worry that we will never make it through a lifetime of trying to balance work and family and life in general. We all too often become our own worst critics, noting every flaw in our personalities, our appearance and our attempts at being wise. Little do we realize until later in life that both our successes and our failures contribute to making us better versions of ourselves as long as we are willing to honestly assess who we are. 

Time seems to be so slow when we are twenty. There are never enough hours in the day to do all that we dream of doing. We balance so many duties trying to fulfill our own expectations as well as those of the people that we love. Before we can even catch a breath we find ourselves in the middle of our lives in our forties when we still feel so young but are seen by the world as older people. It is in those times that we have usually begun to understand who we are and what we truly want to accomplish before the clock runs out. With luck we may already be there but even then we will push ourselves to keep up the pace. 

The greatest gift we can ever give ourselves is the willingness to pause and celebrate now and again without a sense of guilt that we are not accomplishing something. We simply exist for a moment and do things that make us happy. For some it will mean camping in the midst of nature. For others it will be a frivolous time just partying and celebrating life. Whatever we choose is right if it makes us feel good about ourselves. 

The days of being old come so much more quickly than we ever dreamed. Hopefully we are able to examine our lives and be proud of doing things our own way. It is in these times when we can honestly assess how we have done but we should do so by understanding that just doing what we were able to do is often enough. It should be a time to celebrate all of the days and nights of our lives knowing that we stayed in the race even when we realized that we were not going to win a prize. Just making it to within reach of the finish line is a major accomplishment if we have been good and honest and loving. 

I am a pensive individual by nature. Even as a child I sometimes over thought about things that I had done or said and wondered if I should have taken a different approach. Introspection has played a big part in who I am. Luckily I reached a moment when I truly liked the person that I had become. I was capable of forgiving myself when I fell short. 

Life has happened around me at a speed so fast that I often wonder how the anxious and self conscious version of me made it this far. I realize that the culmination of every single day, every single encounter, every single decision whether right or wrong has made me the person that I am. I wonder where the time went and worry that I won’t be able to communicate to the people who mean the most to me just how much their presence in my life has given me.

I am content but determined to fix the imperfections of my life that may have hurt someone. I am at a point in my evolution when I tend to focus less on what I need and more on what others may require to feel safe and loved. As long as I breathe I want to make a tiny difference one person at a time. If I can do that I will have accomplished the best aspect of my dreams. I will do what I can and no longer worry if it is enough. It’s all that any of us can expect.

We drove past the former home of my paternal grandparents last week. We found the place on Arlington Street in the Houston Heights neighborhood even though I was no longer able recall what their address had once been. The place has held up well given that it is well over eighty years old. My grandfather built it with his own hands and it stands out as being very different from the other houses nearby. My grandfather was a lather by profession so of course he built his home with a stucco facade. 

Supposedly stucco does not hold up well in the Houston heat with the ever moving foundations that cause crumbling and cracks but somehow that place looks as sturdy as it did on the day I was born in 1948. Back then the stucco was painted white and the most outstanding feature of the house was the screened in front porch that ran all the way across the front. My grandmother created an enchanted exterior with her green thumb and the seasonal flowers that kept a riot of color blooming almost all year long. 

My mother had a photo of me in front of that house on the occasion of my first communion. As luck would have it white Easter lilies stretched from one side of the garden to the other. It was such a lovely sight that passers by often slowed their paces just to admire the glory of what Grandma had created. My mother rightfully saw that it made a lovely backdrop for me in my white communion dress complete with a little veil. I solemnly hold a prayer book in my folded hands and I look as though I truly understood the solemnity of the occasion. 

Now the house is painted a dark grey which is actually quite attractive and makes the house look as though it might have been built by a talented and artistic architect. The flowers are gone but it is apparent that the house is loved as much as my grandparents cared for it back in the day. 

I really enjoyed visiting my grandparents there especially in the fall when leaves were falling in the ditches in front of the homes. The neighbors spent Sundays burning them to keep their lawns tidy. I can still imagine the perfume of those burning leaves on a chilly afternoon when we went to visit. The neighbors would wave and smile and because nobody had air conditioning back then I was able to hear the people living life inside their homes. There was a lovely cadence that enlivened the area and made me feel rather comfortable just listening to the sounds of everyday life. The people created a kind of symphony that was lovely and relaxing.

My grandmother always prepared one of her famous dinners for us when we visited and the aroma of her fried chicken, gravy, biscuits and homegrown vegetables wafted into the air joining the other pleasant smells that seemed to warm the whole area. Her food created a symphony of the senses that sometime drew neighbors to show up right around the time that her food was ready to eat. She almost always invited them to stay and few ever turned down her offer.

While Grandma cooked I had the privilege of setting the table, a formal event in which I learned how to properly position the china plates and the silverware on the starched and pressed linen tablecloth. It was a ritual that made me feel as though I was grown rather than a six year old little girl. I would open the wooden box that was lined with felt and carefully remove the forks and knives and spoons. I can still see the room and feel the flush of pride as I partook in the ritual of creating an inviting presentation. 

While the women were preparing the meal my father and grandfather sat on the screened porch and spoke of what sounded like important matters. Of course Grandpa puffed on one of his pipes filling the air with the sweet smell of tobacco. I saw that he was a handsome man even as a young girl. His long tapered fingers were those of a craftsman who took his work building things very seriously. Unlike my grandmother he was able to read and write and almost always had much to share about the latest book that he was devouring. 

I suppose that in my mind my father’s parents were the quintessential grandparents. They could have stepped right out of central casting in a Hollywood movie. While my grandfather seemed bigger than life, my grandmother was so easy to be around. She was a tiny woman not more than about four foot nine. I doubt she ever weighed a hundred pounds. She was thin but hearty with more energy than I have ever witnessed in a woman in her eighties. I learned one day when I was snooping in her bathroom that she dyed her hair and I saw bobby-pins and curlers that she used to create her short bob. She wore plain cotton dresses with few adornments but always seemed to have clip on earrings hanging from her lobes. She smelled of clean and simple soap and her hands were wrinkled and crooked from the arthritis that she insisted on calling “rheumatis” She predicted what would lead to her own demise when she advised me that everyone in her family died from “gut trouble.” Sure enough she ended her life with colon cancer and I have taken medication daily for years for my GERD. 

Grandpa was so strong and had such a commanding presence that I simply felt in awe of him. He seemed to be formally dressed even when he was doing heavy labor inside or outside his house. He kept his shirt neatly tucked into his pressed pants which were always secured by a belt. He wore dress boots that tied like the old fashioned shoes of another era. Those boots gleamed with the polish that he meticulously used. He had only a tiny ring of hair on his bald head so he rarely left the house without donning a hat, straw in the summer and fedora the rest of the year. He spoke with an authority on so many subjects and I never grew tired of hearing the stories of his childhood and his travels across the United States. 

It made me feel wonderful to see my grandparents house looking as though the present owners truly care for it. I thought back to the glorious times I spent there and found myself imagining how lovely it would be to have the opportunity of telling them the story of the original owners. I have a feeling that they would like knowing how much love grew inside the walls of the place where they now live.