All It Takes Is A Little Love

Years ago I was visiting my brother at the same time that a friend of his from work had come with his very young son. The boy was a whirlwind of destruction, running through the house breaking things with every step and nobody tried to stop him. I did not feel that it was my place as a visitor and my brother appeared to be so engrossed in the conversation with his friend that he failed to notice all of the damage that the child was inflicting on the place. My brother’s co-worker totally ignored the raucous sounds emanating from wherever his son was running like a wild stallion. By the end of the visit the child had cracked a window, bent the window blinds, broken a vase and strewn cookie crumbs all over the floor. It took every ounce of self control from me to keep from grabbing him and sitting him down in a corner where I might prevent his rampage with my evil eye. 

When it was time for the boy’s father to leave he simply shrugged and laughed has he attempted to round up the naughty boy who kept running away from him yelling,”Idi Amin is coming to get me.” I was in awe of how the scene unfolded with the father seemingly resigned to the fact that his son was out of control. 

I never saw that little boy again but somehow I never forgot him. I often wondered how things had turned out for him. He had reminded me of yet another very bad child from my youth who often attempted to terrorize all of us kids who lived on the same street with him. His name was Tigre, a fitting name indeed because he was as wild as they come and his mother’s only response to his bad manners was to smile with a kind of pride as though his antics were humorous. He is another soul with whom I purposely lost contact but whispers to this day indicate that he went on to live a very difficult adulthood with few friends and multiple divorces. 

I have often wondered if such children are actually somehow uncontrollable or if their parents simply refuse to make the effort to teach them how to act properly. They generally are allowed to do and say whatever comes into their minds and they have grave difficulty working with other people. I’ve encountered several of them during my teaching days and I have found them to be confused and incredibly unhappy. Some of them have been downright dangerous like the child whose anger led him to continually abuse his twin brother and his mother. While he seemed to be the king of his family, he was actually quite lonely and friendless. Eventually I saw that he was spending a great deal of his adult life in the penitentiary. 

It is difficult to know what creates such a person. Part of it might actually be a form of mental illness but there is also the possibility that the child has never been properly taught how to get along with other children or how to respect people and their property. They run wild without direction until they are so bad that they are frightening and even their parents lie awake at night worried about the kind of violence their children might inflict on them.

As a teacher I learned how to lovingly demand better behaviors from such children. They usually acted properly in my presence but would often revert to their horrific ways when they left my classroom. I did my best to teach them how to control their energy and their tendencies to be mean and cruel. I learned that they were filled with a kind of raging anger that they did not like like but had no idea how to tame. Few people had said “no” to them and most of the responses to them were punishing rather than instructive. 

The biggest problem with allowing children to rule the roost without consequences and efforts to help them control their worst instincts is that as they get older and stronger the damage that they can inflict becomes ever more dangerous. They don’t just break things. They break bones and damage souls. They become the abusers and thieves and criminals that wreak havoc on the world. History has shown us that such humans may seem to be strong but are in fact only cruel. 

It hurts my heart when I see a child screaming for attention with nobody responding. I cringe when parents tell me that they can’t even try to calm them down because they do not listen. They change their children from one school to another excusing their horrific behavior by blaming the teachers for not understanding what the child needs. They shower the child with things hoping to buy the child’s good graces. What they do not do is the hard work of correcting and talking and setting expectations that the child will control the demons that rage inside. It can be done with patience, consistency and efforts to determine what is causing the anger inside the child. It may take counseling and even medication but mostly it requires time and love on the part of the parent. 

I am fully aware that there are indeed cases of children who are mentally disturbed but even they can often change with the correctly administered guidance and love. Luckily most parents do their jobs and the children may go through phases but ultimately come out just fine. Sadly the ones who don’t are generally ignored by parents too busy and afraid to take control. Sometimes such children are actually being abused or watching abuse in their homes. Whatever it is I have learned that a child running through a house crying, “Idi Amin is going to get me!” is already in grave danger of becoming an out of control adult. There is nothing funny about letting that youngster run wild. Out of love its our duty to help him with patience and determination or find someone who knows what to do. 

I often wonder how many horrible adults might have been saved if someone had curbed their bad instincts when they were children. If we love the children we should all be watching them and taking the time to help them be better before it becomes too late.  

There is a question going around that gives me pause. The query asks, “Are you proud to be an American?” I hesitate when asked this because of the word proud. I tend to be proud of my accomplishments because they took hard work, determination, willingness to go the extra mile to achieve. Pride indicates some kind of effort has been expended not just being born in American. Living here for all of my life has happened almost passively. I feel incredibly fortunate to be an American. I like being an American. I believe deep down that Americans want to be good and generous people but being proud is the wrong word to use. 

I am proud of Americans who suffer slings and arrows of condemnation for having the courage to stand up for what is right. I am proud of those souls in Minnesota who literally risked their lives and their livelihoods to attempt to protect their neighbors. I am proud of American athletes who train for years to represent us well in the world at large whether they win or lose. I am proud of the moments when Americans are welcoming to those who come to visit or to live in our country. I am proud of the courage of our Founding Fathers who so courageously and audaciously declared their independence from a tyrannical king. I am proud of myself when I have the courage to point out problems that need to be remedied. Just saying that I am proud to be an American requires no effort on my part unless my pledge of allegiance acknowledges that we are one nation of many diverse people who must always insure that there will be liberty and justice for all, not just the sheepish followers of a particular person. 

What the history of our nation tells me is that even our beginning was an attempt to right wrongs. It was revolutionary to question the king and his rules. Those founders and the citizens who followed them were protesting a system that had too long been simply accepted as a kind of divinely blessed way of life. They were radical. They were brave. They did what they believed was right even as their actions were illegal and might have landed them in jail or hanging from a noose. I am proud of what they were willing to risk and of the democracy that they ultimately created even as they themselves understood that it was not perfect. 

We honor the flag and our national anthem as symbols but those things in themselves are not who we are as Americans. They are things, personifications of the nation that we have built. When someone uses them to protest, they are literally following the example of the people of long ago who understood the importance of using such images to express our needs in the continuing efforts to insure our freedom. I am always proud of the people who risk their careers and livelihoods to peacefully stand up against any form of persecution. 

I am proud of that my great grandfather fought in the Civil War to save our union. I am proud of my father and uncles who fought against fascism. I am proud of my grandchildren who are willing to point out problems that are affecting Americans who have little power. I am proud of the brilliant Americans who have made scientific breakthroughs that have saved lives and helped us to keep improving the world in which we live. I am proud of the Americans who go to work each day to teach, or protect, or create, or soothe, or repair but I am not proud just to live in a certain place. But for the vagaries of the universe I might have never even existed much less lived in the United States of America. Millions of things done by the people who came before me had to happen in certain ways to get me here. Mine was nothing more than the act of being born and I am very happy about how things turned out but not necessarily proud.

There are indeed meaningful ways of being a proud citizen but those things require much effort on the part of each of us. We must pay attention to the issues and take the time to learn truth from multiple sources. We can’t simply tune in to media that supports our views. Our jobs should be to seek the bare faced realities even when doing so can be distressing. With our knowledge we then must make decisions of how to vote, not only for only our personal beliefs but for the welfare of the largest number of people. When we take the time to vote intelligently we can certainly feel a sense of gratitude and even a bit of pride. 

It is all too easy to fall into a state of blind allegiance if we stay too busy to seek out what is really happening. We do not have to walk in lockstep with the crowd. Wearing a flag pin on our lapels only means something if we are willing to be active citizens working for the betterment of all. Being a proud American is not about a circus. It is a serious endeavor in which we should all be hard at work. I am proud of how much time I have dedicated to studying the issues that face us all. I am proud of all of the hard work that brave and concerned Americans have done over two hundred fifty years to make this nation better and better for all. I think that is what most of the founders had in mind. We must never forget that the work is never done. We will always be a work in progress. I am proud to be part of that work right now.

We have reached the two hundred fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of Independence which was signed in Philadelphia on July 2, 1776. The tiny room where this historic moment took place is still there and so is our nation which continues the process of evolving. The document announced the attempt at creating a more perfect union, not a perfect one. Our founders understood that there was still work to be done but most of them believed that they had created a system of government that would incrementally become a better and better version of itself. 

In this moment in time our democratic republic is teetering a bit. The kind of disagreements that allowed slavery to stand even as our nation declared its freedom from tyranny are still raging two hundred fifty years later. At the time of the signing there were already indications that this grand experiment might not stand for very long. War with a powerful nation and a well trained army would test the resolve of the citizenry while all the world watched with many doubts that the independence would last. 

Somehow we have muddled through another war with Britain, a civil war between Americans, the end of slavery the Jim Crow efforts to keep Black citizens segregated, two world wars, depressions, wars in Korea, Vietnam and the Middle East and now an authoritarian president who is taxing the system of checks and balances that should have curbed many of his one sided measures. Through it all we have somehow seen heroes arise to lead us forward even in times when we seem to be moving backwards. 

The recent FIFA games in the United States have been a delightful reminder of who we are as Americans. We were great hosts, embracing athletes and fans from many nations with an openness and kindness that defines the true heart of our nation. Yes, we have dark forces that persecute immigrants, still hold racist views of black and brown people, ugly persons who use religion to threaten members of the LGBTQ community and even some who would set back women by confining them to homes under the authority of husbands. Still, there are warriors insisting that this is not who we are as Americans. We are better than the dark visions that are posted by our president and his enablers and deep down inside we know that this too will pass just as we have rallied again and again to become better versions of ourselves. 

On this day I celebrate the ideals of our beginnings many of which are still to be insured. As long as we believe in freedoms not just for ourselves or certain groups but for all we will make it to the next big celebration even as we appear to be faltering in this moment. I for one believe in the goodness of Americans. I do not think that our ugly side can last for much longer. It is not who we have become through a beautiful evolution of extending the rights and privileges of our democratic republic to all. 

We are a nation of many people. The color of our skin should no longer define the level of respect and acceptance that each of us should give to one another. The greatness of America has always been in our willingness to be honest about our faults and to remedy them step by step. We should not be flaunting our freedoms and the wealth that we have experienced but rather sharing our bounty with all of the world. Surely we have learned that all humans are engaged in a daily hopefulness that blends our dreams together. Our greatness in the United States is measured best by our embrace of our fellow humans across the globe. 

I love the United States of America. I have festooned my home with red white and blue not because I believe that we are better than every other country but because I want the freedoms that I enjoy to be extended to has many people as possible. I celebrate the brave souls from all over the world who have enriched the American experience with their presence and their hard work. I am a descendant of immigrants as well as members of the American revolution. My ancestors all came here looking for opportunities and in most cases their dreams were fulfilled. I can trace my heritage back to a time before the Declaration of Independence when my people were fleeing the kind of tyranny and religious persecution that was so rampant in the world of long ago. I have flourished as a woman living through a time when the limits to what I might achieve were ended one by one. 

I am watching what is happening in our nation today with great caution. The undoing of progress worries me but I also see and hear the determination of the freedom fighters of today who relentlessly work to keep and improve on a republic that has incrementally become better. As forces attempt to take us back to a time when only white males were able to rule the roost I still have the right to resist, to speak out with freedom. For this reason I am still proud of our nation and I intend to do everything in my power to keep it from devolving into a different kind of tyranny from wealthy power brokers who seem to believe that only a certain group of Americans are worthy of running our nation. 

I truly believe that on this July 4, 2026 we have reached yet another watershed moment that will test our mettle and our willingness to keep the United States as the land of the free regardless of how different each of us may be. Happy Birthday, America!. May we all work to keep our republic and remain a destination of hope and change until one day perhaps our union will be closer and closer to perfection. 

A man with an outstanding educational background living in a million dollar home in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Houston has been found dead in what appears to be a case of murder suicide. From the outside looking in his life seemed to be so wonderful. He had a beautiful wife and two children. He owned a restaurant and had all the trappings of success and yet it appears that happiness was not one of his riches. 

We live in a society that adores money far too much. The evidence of a good life most often admired are possessions and conspicuous consumption. Some become so obsessed with wealth that their lives are driven by focus on material prizes. Living and breathing depends on accumulating more and more of everything. There is never enough and never too much. 

We become fans of “A listers” who fly around on private jets, build homes far bigger than they will ever need, buy expensive cars, and spend every waking hour wondering how to gather more and more and more signs of power. They are far past simply fulfilling basic needs. Happiness with just enough eludes them. 

We are surrounded by such people who seem to have lost their interest in the good of humanity. Instead they want to invest in expensive toys and clothes and shiny things while seeming not to notice or to care about the many people who struggle from day to day just to have a safe place to sleep at night or enough food to keep their family members from being hungry. They are oblivious to needs other than their own. 

There is nothing wrong with doing well in life and enjoying the fruits of one’s labor. We all strive for being our best and enjoying our successes, but there is something very sick about those who literally lose all sense of balance in their lives without first taking into account how they might feel so much better if they work instead to make certain that everyone has a shot at living a good decent life. 

We don’t have to hoard our riches or devote ourselves to becoming ever more important, more powerful, more wealthy. Such is a kind of sickness that eats away at happiness both for the obsessed individual and the people around him or her. It does not have to be that way. It is possible to be successful and enjoy some luxuries while still understanding the joys that come from sharing good fortune. 

I once tutored a young woman whose parents were both incredibly accomplished. Their home was the most remarkable abode I have ever seen. They had a full time maid and cook but they did not live in excess. They were humble people who were also incredibly generous. They paid me double for helping their daughter. They made me feel comfortable in their home and showed gratitude for my efforts. I saw that they treated everyone the way that they treated me. 

Their maid told me that they purchased a car for her when they saw that she was driving a clunker that was on its last legs. They made her feel as though she was a member of the family and paid her enough that she was able to afford to live in a nice house in a safe part of town. They remembered her and me whenever they went on vacations, bringing back thoughtful gifts that told us how much they appreciated the work we did for them. In fact it was pure joy to be around them.

I do not begrudge the success of people. I understand how much effort they have had to put into their work to get where they are. I admire their hard work but when they pass a certain boundary of decency I lose my positive feelings for them. The woman who marries into wealth with nothing more than her beauty does not impress me when she treats the highly educated family accountant with disdain. I have heard tales of such people making the “hired help” meet them in the garage rather than inside the house. They constantly show disregard for anyone that they see as being beneath them. 

I have known a famous doctor who drove an ordinary car for over ten years. He had a nice home in a good neighborhood but nothing about it was showy. He made sure that his children got summer jobs and saved the money that they made to use for savings. He invested in their educations, not things. His was a very comfortable life so he used his excess energy to work without fanfare in a free clinic in an economically depressed area of town. He and his family were always happy and grateful for what they had. He made certain that the nurses and secretaries and accountants who kept his office going understood how important they were to him. Nobody ever wanted to leave his employ.

Each of us should strive to be best by using our talents in positive ways and sharing whatever we can whenever we can. That is the key to a happy and prosperous life. Nobody needs billions of dollars while the people around him/her are barely making it. Nobody with billions of dollars should be slashing jobs and programs that leave people without a decent income. Nobody needs jets or ballrooms or gold ornamentations as long as someone is suffering somewhere. Each of us should always be asking whom and how to help. Therein lies the good life.  

Growing up in a home without a father in the nineteen fifties and sixties was a lot more unusual that it would be today. Back then women were still fighting for equality in the workplace and generally in American society. My mother had to operate a home on a very thin margin in which every penny that she spent had to be used to its utmost. That included her grocery allowance. 

We were taught that snatching food for a snack was akin to a mortal sin. Mama carefully planned the menus for each week and then purchased the ingredients knowing that there was no room for a slip up. She doled out our food with an iron fist, demonstrating how to get many meals out of a pot roast or even the bones of a chicken. 

We never missed a meal but frivolous items were rarely a part of our diet. We did not have cartons of soft drinks cooling in the refrigerator for our moments of thirst. Cookies were stored in tins that we dared not open without permission from our mom. Taking anything without her knowledge might have had the effect of denying the entire family a careful distribution of the food that we had. 

I learned to cook from my mother with the result that I can recycle scraps of food in uncanny ways. Those Costco chickens that sell for just under five dollars are one of my favorite purchases. I learned from my mother’s skills as a chef that even the bones have value after most of the meat has been scraped from the carcass. Bone broth is a fabulous way to provide seasoning for a big pot of beans. 

That chicken might be featured as a main dish with an assortment of vegetables on one night, a lovely salad on another and a huge pot of soup that lasts for two or three more days. It becomes one of the best purchases that I make with regard to stretching my food budget. I learned those skills from a woman who sometimes boasted that a Home Economics class at Austin High School had shown her how to be a thrifty cook who still provided hearty meals for a family. 

When I first went to visit my husband’s family when we were dating I was stunned when he opened his refrigerator and began helping himself to whatever he desired. The shelves were filled with soft drinks and snacks and a cornucopia of produce and meat. I had never seen such plenty nor had I witnessed someone taking it all for granted. My husband was an only child and his parents had a substantial income that allowed them not only to keep their larders full but also to regularly eat away from home at upscale restaurants. His world and mine were so very different but I tried not to act as though raiding a refrigerator was unusual to me. 

We married young and were still finishing our college educations on salaries that barely paid the rent, kept our car running, and brought food into the house. Our first years might have been a disaster but for the fact that I had learned from my mother how to survive on next to nothing. I kept the meals coming but I had to retrain my husband’s thinking about helping himself to the groceries that I purchased because the budget would fall apart if we did not follow strict rules of apportionment. To this day he marvels at my skills in running a household on a dime. 

Of course we are far beyond that kind of sacrificing now but my instincts still cause me to get as much out of my food purchases as possible. I can’t stand the idea of waste because I too often think of someone who might have benefitted from the scraps that I throw away. I try to use every bit of a vegetable as possible even down to recycling the parts that are generally thought to be inedible. It’s amazing how yummy a vegetable broth becomes when all those stalks and rinds are simmered together in a bit of water. 

I have a friend who is much like me and she has taken her food stretching to new levels. She takes the broth that she makes and pours it into ice cube containers that freeze the tasty tidbits until she needs them for seasoning or making a stew. 

I often think of people who are hungry around the world and do my best not to be wasteful. My husband used to joke that I was a bit too obsessive with my attempts to use every bite of food in a fruitful way. “You can’t put that bit in a box and send it somewhere,’ he would say. I knew that he was right but I still feel that tinge of guilt when I see how much valuable “garbage” we humans all too often make. So much that we throw away still has value. It’s a lesson that I learned long ago and one that drives me to take care of our world and the people who live in it. Somewhere out there is a person who does not have my bounty and if I can give my savings to provide him or her with a meal it is worth the small efforts that I make to reduce the amount of waste that I create. A Costco chicken can create many feasts or as a wise man once observed “It all makes good gumbo”