Month: March 2022

We often toss the word karma around whenever we witness someone getting what we believe are just desserts. We like to believe that good acts will eventually be rewarded and bad acts will be duly punished. In most situations such things might occur, but when a good person has bad things happen while a bad person seems to enjoy a consequence free life we begin to falter in our understanding of how life works. We desperately want to see that our actions whether good or bad result in appropriate outcomes.

Sadly we all know of individuals who are beset with suffering for no apparent reason. My mother was saintly in her behavior. It would be difficult to find a kinder more generous person who walked this earth, and yet karma seemed to have forgotten her. She watched her own mother being taken away to a mental hospital when she was still a toddler. That moment frightened her so much that the trauma stalked her for most of her life. Nonetheless, she set out to create a calm and secure existence for herself and her family. For a time it seemed as though she had succeeded in keeping the ghosts of her childhood at bay until her husband died when she was only thirty years old. She was left with three young children to raise alone on a meager income that kept her in a chronic state of anxiety. 

She succeeded in making her home a haven for her family until her own mental health began to deteriorate when she was about forty years old. She would spend the rest of her life battling ever increasing and debilitating bouts of depression, mania, and paranoia. If karma had been real and fair none of this would ever have happened to her, but it did in spite of all the good deeds that she had done. Somehow she remained kind and loving to the very end of her days, finding joy in the smallest of pleasures. 

If there was even a hint of karma for her it was found in the love that she had spread to the people around her. Upon her death those who had remained faithful to her told touching stories of times that she had brought them out of their own sorrows with a phone call or a sweet message sent in a card. Many had abandoned her because they feared her illness, but those who kept the faith with her understood how precious her unremitting love was. Perhaps in her case karma was always there but hidden under the weight of the challenges that always threatened to sideline her optimism and forgiveness.

On the other hand, I have known individuals who are selfish and abusive that never suffer like my mother did. They seem to be coated with teflon that allows them to avoid retribution for their horrific behaviors. They don’t even seem to realize how toxic they are. Somehow they always have good fortune and a following of people who actually admire their unfeeling ways. They proceed through life with little or no thought of the hurt they have inflicted on others. Karma never seems to darken their doors. 

We humans want to believe that there is a semblance of fairness in life but we too often see just the opposite. The man whose son was murdered knows that neither he nor his child deserved such a tragic end. He watches the murderer laughing and exchanging high fives while he is grieving. He wonders why he has to endure this pain. He knows that he has tried his whole life to be a good man and that his son was an innocent victim. Karma means nothing to him. 

The truth is that bad things happen to good people and good things sometimes happen to bad people. It is a conundrum for those of us who want to believe that consequences for our actions should always be appropriate. We desire rewards and positive reinforcement for our good deeds that do not always transpire. We want justice for the bad things that happen to us. Instead we live in a highly complex society in which many times we must simply be content in knowing that we are living honorable lives with only the reward of being able to feel good about ourselves. Perhaps that is all that really matters. 

I don’t believe that the person whose home burns down is receiving some kind of retribution any more than I believe that the individual who lives a life of luxury and privilege is somehow being rewarded. I think that things happen randomly and some people just have misfortunes that have nothing to do with who they are or how they live their lives. Neither God nor karma randomly inflict people with tragedy anymore than they choose others for happiness. It would be a very unfair world indeed if such were true. Instead each of us should strive to be like my mother who remained good and loving simply because she believed it was the best way to live.

Perhaps we all get our just due when we leave this earth. There are no guarantees while we are here. We are not unthinking puppets being manipulated by rewards and punishments to do right. We choose how we will live because we understand that there is a good and just way to be. We try our best to follow the good path not in hopes of getting a pat on the back, but because we know that it is right.

The past two years have been especially difficult for those who have lost loved ones either from Covid or other causes. Often the deaths have been shocking and tinged with feelings of being alone in a divisive world preoccupied with millions of individual problems. The cause of rugged individualism has been debated and refuted by those who believe that democracy demands a more communal response to the life and death of citizens. While we will probably never know exactly who is more right or wrong, we sense that discussions of how we should all behave during tough times like these is a grey area with no certain answers. 

It reminds me of a discussion that one of my high school teachers once had with us. He called it “The Walk A Mile In My Shoes” symposium. He outlined various scenarios that seemingly demanded a single way of behaving, but which actually were not as clear cut as they at first seemed to be. The world is filled with such moments when determining the best way to act or respond is not so easily defined. What may seem black and white to one person, may lead to shades of grey for another. The key to knowing what to do lies in a willingness to accept that life is almost always more complex than the simple solutions that we apply to it. 

We need to be open to the possibility that there may be exceptions to the thinking and beliefs  by which we guide our lives and those of society as a whole. We have to take all of the circumstances into account before jumping to hard and fast conclusions. Making personal decisions is one thing, but forcing those determinations on others can be difficult. We have to ask ourselves what the overall effect of a generalized rule will be before we enact it. 

I could use hundreds of examples of grey areas, but I will begin with the banning of certain books in school libraries or curriculums. It is understandable that each family has its own set of rules that often dictated by personal or religious beliefs. There is nothing wrong in honoring them, but the way to do so does not necessarily require making everyone abide by the wishes of a few. The problem can be quite easily fixed by offering students and parents choices for reading assignments rather than eradicating particular books totally. 

In fact, my own English teacher did such a thing. He required us to read and report book regularly during the school year and in the summer. While he did not allow us to choose just anything, he did have a list of hundreds of titles from which we might find works that were of interest to us. He also specified that we had to vary the genre of our choices by reading a variety of nonfiction, fiction and poetry. It gave us and our parents some control over what we were reading without totally eliminating some of the more controversial classics for everyone. Since my mom was a great believer in exploring the world by reading as much as possible without strict guidelines I probably read most of the titles that have recently been removed from libraries and curriculum. Others in my class stuck to tamer fare. 

I am personally against abortion but I do not think that I am somehow committing a grave mortal sin by believing that such a decision is extremely personal. I would not presume to judge another woman for terminating a pregnancy. In fact, I have known a number of people who felt that they had to do so. I know how difficult it was for them to reach this decision. The circumstances surrounding their pregnancies almost demanded that they find a way out and I understood why they did what they did with a heavy heart for both them and their unborn. I also grasp the argument that abortion is murder, so the whole idea of it is difficult to fathom. Nonetheless, I don’t believe that It is my right to force my feelings on women whose situations I do not know.

Do we tell the white lie of omission to spare someone’s feelings or is it always important to tell the truth? We know that killing is wrong, but how do we justify self defense or wars? Theft is wrong but if a family is starving and nobody will help is taking an apple from a market justified? History and today’s world is filled with stories in which people resorted to behaviors that most of us see as wrong simply in an effort to survive. When we hear of such incidents we understand that much in life is not as absolute as we might have thought. 

As a teacher i learned how circumstances can often lead to aberrant behavior from students. Parents who demand inordinately high grades from their children are often shocked to learn that they have cheated to keep from being punished. Children being abused sometimes turn into abusers themselves. While educators cannot condone such infractions, it is certainly up to them to get to the heart of why children commit their misdeeds. More often than not, they are attempting to shield themselves from some abuse that is driving their actions. So too it sadly is with adults. 

I have been accused of being wishy washy for believing that we have to consider the why’s and wherefores of grey area responses to various situations. I personally have a rather rigid code of conduct for myself that is derived from twelve years of religious education and my mother’s sterling example. At the same time I have learned that my good fortune of always being surrounded by kindness and love is not generally shared by everyone. The horrors that so many endure force them into the dire situations that I consider to be grey areas of responding. 

I won’t ever condone outright cruelty or evil. I know that it exists and must always be punished to the fullest extent. On the other hand there are those grey areas that complicate my thinking processes just as they should. I’m not willing to join a team or a cult in condemning without great thought. When people are very afraid they sometimes react in iffy ways. It’s up to us to find out why. The world is filled with shades of grey. Understanding that just might save someone from great harm. Who are we to condemn them?

I suppose that anyone who really knows me has been wondering why I have taken so long to write about the situation in Ukraine. Then again, those who know me well realize that I often ponder situations for a long time before finally uttering my points of view. I like to have a grasp of the exact nature of events and the history that has brought people to a particular climax in their lives. I need to be able to objectively switch to reporter’s mode when I write, eschewing all of the conflicting emotions that roil inside my mind. I like to provide a more calm and studied view of the situation rather than one driven by emotions. Once in awhile, as with the death of George Floyd two springs ago, I can’t seem to muster the objectivity that I need. So it is with what I witness happening in Ukraine. 

In truth I have been unable to fully concentrate on anything that I do since threats of a Russian invasion of Ukraine became imminent. Even when I am teaching, my most enduring method of dealing successfully with sorrow, I find myself glancing down at my phone in anticipation of an announcement from that conflict. I, like much of the world, go through my days with anxiety and a heavy heart, feeling helpless to do anything that might actually help the people embroiled in a war that seemingly makes no sense to anyone but Putin. 

Then again, that is the nature of wars. They are rarely grounded in concern for the ordinary people who suffer the most from the death and damage that follows. Wars generally sweep up common folk in the power hungry desires of despots who rationalize their thirst for power with platitudes and propaganda. Wars are perhaps the biggest sins of our human natures, responsible over the span of time for millions of unnecessary deaths and the destruction of societies. 

I have studied my genealogy insofar as the limited records allow me to do so. I have learned that my very DNA is a mixture derived from western and eastern European ancestors. Half of them came from an area of the world now known as Slovakia, a small country whose western border glances on a border with Ukraine. Like Ukraine the land of my grandparents and their grandparents has been a pawn for other more powerful nations like Austria/Hungary, Germany, and Russia in the more modern eras. Somehow the people there have managed to save their language and their customs in spite of efforts to subsume them into the dominating ways of other nations. They have all too often been little more than faceless people living on land that some other government wanted to control. Thus is has too often been for the people of Ukraine, a land filled with resources that Russia and other countries have coveted for much of history.  

I feel the heart of the Ukrainian people beating with courage, but also crying out in desperation as their beautiful country is being decimated piece by piece for no reason other than the false pride of Putin who has often made it clear that he longs for the former Soviet Union and a time when Russia dominated much of Eastern Europe and its people. While most of the western world has united in its determination to condemn Putin’s blatant land grab and punishment of the people of Ukraine, our economic sanctions designed to bankrupt Russia seems to be a puny response in the face of the horror he is inflicting on Ukraine. Nonetheless the prospect of an even more globally encompassing war is something to be avoided if at all possible. 

The tension and reality of the moment is all too raw and real for all of us as we watch events unfold in real time. The need to do something, anything is so frustrating. It dampens our own feelings of safety and security that we have enjoyed for the many decades since World War II. It reminds us of the times when our parents and grandparents were engaged for years in devastating global conflicts that eventually ended with the use of a terrible nuclear weapon that we somehow wish had never been unleashed on the world. 

Somehow all of our trivial complaints and concerns seem silly when viewed against the courageous stand for democracy that the Ukrainian people are demonstrating to the world. We quibble over who is the better American, the most patriotic, because it is easy to do so in our land of free speech. We complain about higher prices for goods and services that even our parents never dreamed of having. Our homes are big and spacious. Our dinner tables are filled with plenty. We have modern conveniences that were once the domain of only the wealthy. Our children have unprecedented educational opportunities. Our medical communities are world class. 

Nonetheless, we greedily ignore those among us who struggle to achieve the dream that we call American. We all too often look away from poverty, homelessness, immigrants reaching our borders hoping for a life without want and danger. Our generosity is often brief and reserved for only certain kinds of people. We only seem able to sacrifice for a limited time even when it is for the common good. We worry about our personal liberties in trivial ways, seeming to think that bending a bit to work for the common good is an infraction on our personal liberties. We look across the ocean from the safety of our living rooms to cheer the people of Ukraine while silently wondering if we will ever again be able to join together to save our own democracy from the forces of power brokers who take joy in dividing us with anger and fear. 

I do not know what will happen in the coming days. What I do know is that we must be willing to do our parts however small they may be to stand in unison with the people of Ukraine and those all over the world wanting to be free. If we have to pay more for gas to move our cars, so be it. If we must temper our appetites by omitting foods that become scarce, we should be happy to do so. Mostly it is time for us to be patient and understanding of one another. The urge to gerrymander political dynasties must end. Our singular goal should be to create equality for all, to consider the needs of people struggling to be free from poverty and ignorance. Democracy should be liberal in its honor of a multitude of ideas. Our government should not be comprised of hard core voting blocks, but of educated and interested citizenry intent upon spreading the wealth of freedom to as many people as possible. This is not communism, but just the opposite. Surely that must become more and more apparent as we watch the Ukrainian people teaching us once again how dangerous it is to fall under the rule of authoritarianism. We must be better than that and we can be again if we open our minds and our hearts.

God bless the people of Ukraine. We can help them, but we must have the same kind of resolve that they have demonstrated. We must unite and show Putin that the free people of the western world have the will to take as long as needed to destroy him from within, just as he has been attempting to do with us for decades. Our message should be that we know what he has tired to do, and we will not become victims of his deception again. We are free people who will take care of one another and work together just as we have in the past. We will support our brothers and sisters from all over the world in the human desire for liberty. We will work to save our planet from the scourge of evil that so sadly continues in spite of efforts to move beyond such ancient ways of doing things. My hope is that we will show Putin that he has not won, and that we will gladly defeat him together.

When I was young I had many dreams. Looking back I realize they were all rather simple. I wanted to find someone to marry. I hoped to have children. I thought that buying my own car would be wonderful and I wanted to park it in front of my own house. I thought it would be nice to do a bit of traveling and to have books and music to entertain me. I seemed to always be saving for something like a semester of college tuition, a dress that I saw in a store window or my high school class ring. My imagination was not developed enough to consider really big ideas. Mostly I just wanted to be happy, survive and quietly live what I thought was a normal life. 

I got lucky in finding the love of my life when I was only eighteen years old. Looking back I realize that we were a couple of silly kids who had no real plans for navigating the future. We just went wherever the winds took us and muddled our way through becoming adults. I suppose we were fortunate that things turned out as well as they did because we were grossly unprepared for the real life issues that very quickly came our way and upended our savings and our goals. When I was twenty and my husband was twenty one we grew up exponentially when my mother had her first mental breakdown. We no longer had the luxury of being silly and immature as we took on the responsibility of her care. A year later we were blessed with our first child and we understood that she would become our new priority as well. 

We might have fallen apart under the pressure of redefining our lives to accommodate my mother and our daughter into our lives. We were so young, inexperienced and wanting in wisdom. Somehow we learned on the fly and none of the multitude of mistakes that we made were lethal. While we fought battles to keep my mother well and to care for a child who spent most of her early years being sick, we saw many of our peers enduring horrors on the battlefields of Vietnam. We felt blessed that our trials were far less consequential that what they had to experience. 

Eventually we added another little girl to our family. Fortunately she was rarely sick and had an easy going personality that was never demanding. We began our lifelong roller coaster ride in earnest, always saving for something special and usually spending it on an emergency. Up and down we went and even through all of the serious illnesses and unexpected issues that arose as we fumbled through our twenties we were exceedingly happy. It did not seem to matter that we were continually scaling back our spending and our dreams just to pay for all the rainy day situations that seemed to pound at us. What did not break us really did make us stronger and ever closer. 

I don’t have formal portraits of my children growing up. Most of the furniture that was in my home was some kind of hand me down. Going out to eat meant buying burgers or visiting the local Mexican food restaurant. The girl’s birthday parties were simple sleepovers or gatherings in the backyard. Our vacations all centered on camping in our big canvas tent. We purchased an older wooden home that had only slightly more than a thousand square feet. What it did have was a huge yard shaded by big trees where our children played with all of the other neighborhood kids. It was glorious! We lived in a wonderful little bubble albeit constantly worried about whether our car might need a repair or the air conditioners in the windows might finally wear out. Miraculously we always got by. 

Over time and with persistence we became more comfortable monetarily. We paid for our children to go to college. We bought a trailer instead of a tent for our vacations. We moved to a bigger house. We flew to far away destinations. We saved for our retirement. We planned ahead for repairs on our home and our car. We purchased new furniture and gave away some of our hand me downs. We looked back our our lives and smiled because we knew that even with all of the challenges it had been wonderful. 

Now I want very little. I am content and my wishes are no longer material. I hope that the people I love will find the kind of happiness that I have known. I enjoy time with people more than grand adventures. I don’t need much of anything. The basics do just fine. I am wise enough to know that I might dream of world peace, but it is unlikely to happen in my lifetime. I wonder if there might be ways to reduce racism and hate. I would like to see equality and justice being meted out in every instance. I am weary of abusive and ugly systems that make life difficult for so many of my fellow human beings. If it takes money to decrease the suffering in the world, I am happy to sacrifice some of mine. 

I know we can’t take our material goods with us when we die so I am enjoying the days I have and worrying less about money and things. I seem to appreciate the small things about living more and more. Right now I’m all about saving memories and love. When all is said and done these are what matter most.

I suppose that each of us has a fascination with people able to do things that are beyond our own abilities. In particular I am in awe of those who are musical. There is probably little in this life that gives me as much joy as listening to music and I am totally eclectic in my taste. My playlist would include classical, jazz, blues, rock, pop, country, hip hop, rap, soundtracks, Broadway, you name it. Of course I have my favorite pieces and and artists in every category, but mostly I find myself in awe of anyone with the talent to create or perform great music. While I am able to catch on to mathematical processes quickly, I feel totally devoid of any ability to make beautiful music. Even my voice is lacking in discernible potential. 

I was thinking about simple songs just the other day. I am somewhat able to string words together to form a cohesive idea, but if I had to make them work within the confines of a particular tune I’m not so sure that my abilities would hold up. Sometimes the difference between a one hit wonder and a forever song lies in a seamless combination of musical notes and words. I often think of the teamwork of John Lennon and Paul McCartney when they were both members of the Beatles. Paul’s music was often the more satisfying than John’s, but John found words to go with the tunes that elevated them to high art. When the two broke up and went out on their own they still found success, but only once in awhile did their music find the ultimate combination of both wonderful lyrics and magnificent melodies. John Lennon’s Imagine comes to mind as a perfect work of art, but many of his other solo efforts were quite forgettable. 

I’ve been following some heralded musicians and song writers of late out of curiosity to learn if their talents are inborn or the product of hard work. The answer in most cases seems to be that it is a combination of both. Most great artists began their journeys in the world of music as children. It was something that interested them, and so they kept at it, experimenting and practicing until they found a sweet spot in their work. When we witness someone who appears to be a naturally creative genius we often forget the hours and hours of practice and revision behind the scenes that pushed them to greatness. 

One of my all time favorite movies is Amadeus, a glimpse into the life of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. I had heard stories of young Mozart playing his music for kings and queens when he was little more than a toddler. He definitely possessed instantly notable talent in music from an early age, but it might never have come to light but for his father’s deliberate attempts to nurture and push Wolfgang to develop his skills. Mozart’s is a story of a man driven sometimes to madness in his efforts to both please his father and demonstrate his genius to the world. He did not simply show up one day with a collection of beautiful music. He worked hard to create some of the best loved pieces the world has ever known. Sometimes he found perfection and others he was devoid of ideas. Always music was an obsession that dominated life. 

I suppose my fascination with music and those who create and perform it comes from a sense of wonderment that anyone would be willing to spend so much time perfecting a single note, an intonation, a word. It is a kind of devotion and drive that few of us have. When they perform they make their talent seem easy but when we follow the arc of their fame we begin to see just how much of their lives have been spent pushing for ever better ever more wonderful sounds. While we are sleeping, they may be practicing and creating. While we are with our families they are holed away in a room repeating the same phrase or stanza over and over and over until it is just right. 

I once saw a cellist perform and she was incredible. She seemed to be as one with her instrument. She created sweet sounds the likes of which I had never heard. When the conductor spoke of her rise to notice in the music world, he noted that she had regularly practiced twelve hours a day from the time she was a young child. I remember thinking that she was so good that there seemed to be no need for her to spend that much time rehearsing each movement of her fingers and her bow. I was in awe that anyone would be willing to literally spend so much time finding perfection. Then I considered that when I was working as a teacher I regularly spent twelve to fourteen hours a day working on my craft. I suppose that the only difference is in where we choose to center our focus. 

Maybe if I had made music all day, everyday for years I too would be masterful. Then again it is doubtful because I never really had a desire to spend that much time learning music rather than enjoying it. Instead I studied all day long, pretended to create newspapers and books as a kind of game when I was a child, played school with my brothers and my friends. Somehow I was always moving in the direction of my talents and my interests. I ended up in a career that brought me happiness and purpose and for which I was willing to give most of my waking hours each day. 

I never became a rock star in my profession, but I found great joy in it. Hopefully I even brought some pleasure to some of my students just as musicians bring happiness to me. I suppose that if we are really lucky each of us finds a niche that feels just right. When we have to work, we don’t mind the time or the effort because it’s something that we love. We’ll have glorious moments when it feels as though we have created the perfect fusion of all of our talents and skills. Then there are times when nothing seems to come together right. I suppose that is the definition of work and life. For each of us a place in the world is somewhere out there waiting for us to find it and work hard enough to reach it. There is music in all that we do to get there.