Month: July 2024

I have always had a love of history whether it be historical tracts, biographies, autobiographies, movies, television series, essays, or conversations. If I have learned anything from my fascination with the past it is that we humans have a tendency to repeat our mistakes and end up in situations that we might have prevented if only we had paid more attention to signs that things were amiss. I know that the first half of the twentieth century was unimaginably difficult for those who lived through it. It was a time of pandemic in which millions died and a cycle of world wide economic depression in between two world wars. 

My maternal mother and father came to the United States shortly before World War I and my paternal grandparents watched younger folk go across the Atlantic to the war that was supposed to end all wars. Both sets of grandparents must have endured the Spanish Flu which decimated the world but none of them ever spoke of it. My mother was born in the Roaring Twenties and spent her early years enduring the Great Depression which my paternal grandfather often described in great detail. It was a hard time that left many people hungry and homeless. Then came the rise of despots across the world and yet another world war in which my uncles and father were engaged. Little wonder that everyone was ready to settle down in the nineteen fifties when the United States experienced an economic boom. 

I came along shortly after the end of World War II at a time when my parents still told stories about how they felt when Pearl Harbor was attacked and spoke of the loss of friends in faraway places like Saipan. As a young child I joined my fellow Baby Boomers in crowded classrooms and neighborhoods filled with children and great hope for the future. By then we were involved in a cold war that made the USSR an enemy to watch carefully. We trained for the worst possibilities with air raid horns running practice alerts every Friday at noon, reminding us that we were not as safe as it seemed. We ducked and covered under our desks in preparation of an attack which thankfully never came. One of my teachers told us about the Cuban missile crisis and urged us to be safe and prepared until the danger was over.

As a teen I watched upper class men who had graduated heading off to Vietnam and sometimes coming back home in coffins or with injuries that would change their lives. I was witness to the Civil Rights movement mostly from afar because I was still too young to join but I understood what was happening and thew my emotional support to those who were marching and protesting. Somehow it felt as though things would never settle down as much as I wished. There was always some kind of flash point somewhere in the world. 

I married young because it felt as though I might not get the opportunity to really live and enjoy my time if I did not seize the day. My focus was diverted by my mother’s illness and the family that I began to build. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking but it felt as though the world had finally taken a breather from all of the drama and hate that had defined the earlier part of twentieth century. I was too busy having a good life to notice that not everyone in the world was sharing my good fortune. It would be later that I would understand that political intrigue was leading us to the present day. In the meantime I rejoiced at the dissolution of the USSR, somehow believing that people all over the world would finally be free from domination. It was a very uneducated and naive way of thinking. 

I see now that while I was sleeping dark forces continued to gather in the world. Russia was not as democratic and happy as it had seemed because Vladimir Putin was plotting another path for his nation. The Middle East became a hotbed not in a single moment but from decades and perhaps even centuries of divisions, tribalism and religious disagreements, not to mention domination by the western world. China awoke from its state as a sleeping giant. Our nation was attacked by terrorists just as it had once been attacked at Pearl Harbor. I awoke from my daze and began to pay attention once again. 

Still there was a beacon of hope. The United States elected its first Black President and it felt as though much of the racism that had plagued our history was gone. It was a moment of hope that made me believe that perhaps we had learned our lessons and would be able to live in more harmony than ever before. Sadly that was not how it would be. Evidence of pent up racism showed its ugly face as though it had always been hiding and waiting for the moment when it’s time would come again.

Another pandemic came just a little over a hundred years from the last one. We started out working together to keep everyone safe but our resolve soon broke down. As a nation we became more divided that I had ever witnessed. Families and friendships were stressed sometimes to the point of breaking. A sad time of death when we might have comforted each other turned into a feud.

Even as we somehow muddled our way through those terrible times the world has ruptured once again. Russia invaded Ukraine as though it was their birthright. Hamas killed Israelis and took hostages. Israelis struck back with horrific force leaving tens of thousands of Palestinians of all ages dead, Gaza plundered, millions displaced and starving. Gangs overtook the streets of Haiti. China threatened Taiwan. In our own country a former president incited an attempt to overthrow the results of a fair election that he lost. There are days when it feels as though the whole world has lost its mind. 

The only bright spot in the scenario is that we have historically managed to find our way back to goodness and decency if only for a time. Heroes emerge and fight the evils that plague us. In my most optimistic moments I believe that surely we will find our way out of the darkness. Hopefully I am not allowing my forced optimism to overtake my reason. I am older and a bit weary even though I have had a most wonderful life, but find myself longing for a time when the suffering of others will abate. I’d like to think that we humans have evolved enough to know that it us up to each of us to work for peace on this earth with our relationships and our votes for people who will bring us together, not tear us apart. I hate to think that my last memories on this earth will be of evil and hardships consuming innocents anywhere. I have a dream that one day we humans will finally get things right. My thinking may be pie in the sky but I what can it hurt to try?

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment. —-Ralph Waldo Emerson

It is not always easy to march to your own drum beat. Even at an advanced age I still all too often find myself attempting to be a people pleaser, to stifle my own feelings and opinions in an effort to be polite or to keep from causing trouble. I have to admit that the people that I most admire are those who have learned how to be totally comfortable being themselves. They don’t hurt others or make them feel bad but they bravely present themselves to the world just as they are. Sometimes there is controversy over the lives and beliefs they have chosen so they suffer the slings and arrows of judgement while hanging on to the persons they have decided to be. 

A have a former student who has boldly announced to the world that she is a lesbian. She recently married and flooded Facebook with photos of her beautiful wedding. I am certain that there may be those who do not share her enthusiasm but I know her to be one of the kindest and most loving people I have ever known. There is nothing off putting about her lifestyle. In fact it is beautifully symbolic of the kind of love that we need more of in this world. My admiration for her is unlimited and I wish her well in a world where not everyone is understanding. 

I have another former student who is a gifted photographer who specializes in creating beautiful photos of transgender individuals. I wish that someone would snap a picture of me that so captures the inner beauty as his do of his lovely subjects. His skill with a camera transforms them into something uniquely spiritual. We can see their joy and their inner beauty in each frame. I salute him in bring happiness to people who are all too often shunned by society. He sees their individuality and their loveliness as humans. 

I have a grandson who is so dedicated to the health of our planet that he left a well paying job that required him to work for groups and organizations that are doing damage to our earth. He instead wants to do be part of changing the way we see our roles on this planet. He is willing to live more frugally to steadfastly live the way he believes that we should all be doing to bring about a better world.

I keep in touch with another young man via social media who is determined to make our schools and workplaces and daily lives safer by advocating for gun control legislation. He is a brilliant recent college graduate who might have just launched a promising career and settled into a comfortable life but he has bound himself to the belief that we must do something about the proliferation of guns in our society. He earnestly works to convince those who govern us that having sensible gun control laws will save lives. It’s difficult work and he is often threatened and berated but his courage keeps him pressing forward with his goals.

I know another young man who has a prestigious degree in accounting who might well have found work in a company that would have paid him far more than what he makes providing his services to nonprofit organizations. His dream is not to become a rich man but to provide himself and his family with what they need while also helping in the battles for those who are hungry, homeless and unwell. His faith in God is his guide to everything that he does.

I admire a doctor who toils tirelessly to create vaccines and medicines for the poorest people in the world even as he is threatened with violence for doing so. He is an energetic soul who fights ignorance and continues forward with his research because he knows how many will be saved by his discoveries. Through all of the negativity that is hurled at him he smiles and never gives up. He is most deserving of the highest praise for tirelessly doing what he believes to be work that he was destined to do.

It is difficult being heroic enough to be oneself. I know this because I sometimes waver, bite my tongue, go with the crowd. I worry too much about what people will think of me if they see me stripped bare to the person that I am. I do my best not to give in to denying who I am when peer pressure rises and most of the time I get over the push and pull. Nonetheless there are times when I feel weary and simply hide what I am thinking out of caution. I know that when I am totally and truly myself I sometimes lose people that I thought were my friends. 

We should encourage, not discourage people to be themselves. It should never be up to us to attempt to talk them out of nobly living out their dreams in plain sight. They are the leaders and dreamers who show us the wonderful possibilities of coloring outside of the lines. They are innovators who bravely show us the importance of stepping outside of the boxes that we use to demand certain behaviors from everyone. I glory in their courage. 

I was born in the Heights in Houston Texas in the long ago when the place was more of a town than a metroplex of six million people. Save for a stint when my father was finishing his degree at Texas A&M College and a few months in California, I have spent my life living south of downtown Houston. I now reside in Pearland, a suburb about twenty minutes away from the famous Texas Medical Center. I love my home, my neighbors and so much about this wonderful place, but I continue to worry about its fate as climate change creates more and more dangerous weather events for the area. 

I can recall every hurricane that came through since I was born. Each summer I more carefully follow the weather reports lest a big storm be coming our way. In all my years I can’t recall a hurricane coming to our area as early as the one that made a direct hit on us this past week. Most of the time those kind of storms don’t bother us until August or September. The fact that this one came at the beginning of July has me worried that it might not be the last one to hit us this season. It feels as though such events are becoming more and more common, not just around here but all over the United States and the world. If it’s not a hurricane it will be a flood or a wildfire or a monstrous tornado. 

I worries me that we are still doing so little to quell the pace of increasing temperatures and natural disasters. We become harried in the moment and then seem to simply drop back into all of our old routines and habits without thinking about the effect we are having on our planet. I know that when I write about such things I am mostly ignored and possibly even thought of as a kind of Chicken Little squawking with unnecessary anxiety about the future. Still my more than seven decades in the same area have shown me the dramatic changes in the weather while I have seen very few efforts to address the issues with scientific measures. 

I have to admit to being somewhat late to the discussion of climate change. I remember a discussion that I had with a fellow teacher whose area of expertise was science. She warned me about what she believed was coming to our world and why it would be happening, but like so many I mostly laughed at her sense of urgency once she was no longer in my presence. She sounded a bit neurotic to me and I chose to believe that the worst effects of climate change would not occur until I was long gone. I now admit that she was right and I was wrong. 

My grandchildren have been telling me for several years now that our planet is in trouble. They have literally studied the issue of climate change so well that they are predicting things before they even happen. I find their accuracy to be incredible and so I am more and more attuned to what they have to say. One of them is literally surveying the best places and methods to employ for survival in the future. He predicts a great and unstoppable migration as different parts of the earth become uninhabitable. He does not believe this will happen in my lifetime but he feels that his generation may live to see its effects in all aspect of life. 

My mother smoked until she was in her forties. She mostly ignored the suggestions that tobacco was bad for her health until it was no longer possible to smoke in public buildings. Then she got the message and snuffed out the last cigarette. She lived another forty years but died from lung cancer that her doctors feel certain came from her habit of inhaling nicotine for so long. She was always happy that neither me nor my brothers ever became addicted but also understood that even our exposure to her smoke might ultimately have a negative impact on our health. 

We are at a watershed moment in terms of saving our planet just as my mother once was. She gave herself a few more years than she might otherwise have had if she had continued smoking but the damage was already deadly. I would like to think that we have not reached that point with regard to climate change but the evidence that we have done ourselves in with our over use of fossil fuels is frightening. We should have listened to people like my science teacher colleague years ago and we would no doubt be in a position of more normal climate events rather than the strange ones that are ruining people’s lives all over the world. The seasonal cycles seem to be coming earlier and earlier and the effects are more and more brutal. 

My maiden name is Little. Perhaps it is just that I am the voice urging people to begin today, not tomorrow. The time is now to do more than ever before to make a difference in how we care for the earth and for each other. We have to find ways to protect our planet on a daily basis. We must be willing to sacrifice and work together. Our present ways are not sustainable. For the sake of our future descendants let us earnestly begin.  

One of the most fascinating episodes of the biopic of John Adams demonstrated how Abigail Adams vaccinated her children with the live smallpox virus. I had never realized that people understood how to use the virus itself as a preventative. I remembered my own childhood vaccination against smallpox. It was a nasty affair during which I had to wear a plastic shield on the shoulder where I had been jabbed. Over time a sore appeared that I suppose was similar to those I would have had if I had somehow contracted that disease. Eventually the sore healed and I was left for a time with a round scar on my left shoulder. My mother explained that if I had actually contracted the disease I might have ended up with such scars all over my body, even my face. I felt relieved that my mother had taken the time to get me vaccinated against that once dreaded disease. 

By the time my children were born vaccines had literally eliminated smallpox from the face of the earth. Nobody needed the vaccine anymore because the virus itself had died out due to the massive worldwide vaccination of people on every continent. I felt a sense of wonder that I had been among the last group of children watching that crusty sore grow underneath the plastic shield that I wore on my arm. 

I learned the true extent of such a miracle from my grandfather who described an outbreak of smallpox in his town. His descriptions were so vivid that they made me shudder as I remembered how icky that sore on my arm had been. Grandpa spoke of his father’s face being so infected with pus ridden sores that it looked as though he would surely die. Even the town doctor essentially told my grandfather who was just a teen at the time to prepare for the worst outcome. Miraculously my great grandfather eventually recovered but the marks of his illness were indelibly left on his face, his arms and his chest. Somehow my own minor experience with the smallpox vaccine helped me to imagine the true horror of contracting that often fatal disease and I was quite happy that my mother and millions of mothers on the earth had helped to wipe out the horrific illness with those shots.

I was also one of the first group of youngsters to take part in the historical vaccination effort to protect people from polio. I knew all about the disease. There was a little boy at my school who walked with crutches and iron braces on his legs. Mama explained to me that he had polio. So too did the father of one of the boys that I knew from our church. My mother even told me the story of President Franklin Roosevelt and his polio when I was only five years old. She would often chide me if I ran barefooted through water standing against the curb in front of our home, telling me that I might get polio that way. I could see that she was very worried about my welfare so it did not surprise me at all when she signed me up to get some of the very first polio vaccines.

Six year old me was terrified as I stood in line waiting for my turn but I soon learned that the jab was not so bad, a good turn of events because I needed more than one dose. I remember how happy my mother was when I had completed the cycle of shots and how she would follow up those with vaccines for other diseases as well. I became almost professional at taking those pricks without even flinching even though I silent said a prayer or two each time the needle got near my skin. Best of all I did not end up like the girl who lived down the street whose polio was so bad that she spent most of her days breathing inside an iron lung. 

There were no vaccines for measles or mumps or chickenpox when I was a child so I caught every single one of those things. The chickenpox were annoying but the mumps really hurt. I can still recall how hard it was to swallow. I did okay with those illnesses but the measles did a number on me. I was sick for over a week and at times my fever was so high that I thought I was going to die. I was eight years old by then and my imagination was vivid. Little did I know that measles can sometimes be quite devastating to some people. I remember my mother checking me constantly with a worried look on her face. She would not let my brothers near me because she did not want them to contract the illness. That was one of the clues that old me that measles were way more serious than I had thought. 

When my daughters came along I gladly gave them all the usual vaccines plus a few more that had been developed over time. I must have missed giving them the chicken pox vaccine or maybe it wasn’t even available then because they each had an irritating and itchy round. By then smallpox did not even exist on the earth thanks to vaccines so my girls never experienced that crusty scab followed by a scar. I never had to worry that they might contract polio or any number of terrible things. it was a good feeling to protect them and it made me think of my mother who purchased no luxuries but always made sure that we got our proper vaccines no matter what they cost. 

I think of these things today because there seems to be such a backlash against vaccines that I frankly do not understand. Maybe it is because so many young mothers have never seen or even heard about the horrors of diseases that once changed or even ended lives so dramatically. The vaccine movement has been so successful that they did not have a neighbor in an iron lung or men at church in wheelchairs. They did not see or hear about people being permanently disfigured by smallpox or spend a week fighting a battle against measles. Surely if they had experienced such things they would be as eager to take advantage of the modern methods for avoiding horrific diseases as my mother had been for me and my brothers. 

I understand the concerns and even the right to freedom of choice but I would challenge everyone to do some research before turning away from the life changing vaccines that are more and more often being rejected for reasons that have not been proven to be facts. As more and more choose to walk away from vaccines the herd immunity that they have created will wane and we may once again see devastating illnesses plaguing our children. As someone who witnessed both testimony and the actual illness I can say that we should think about the risk of to take chances that might result in terrible illnesses. It’s a matter of caring about each other just as my mother did with me and my brothers. I will always be grateful to her for protecting me. My hope is that we can protect each other as well.

When my eldest daughter was at the University of Texas she sent me a CD that featured the singer, Celine Dion. I had never heard of the performer before that moment but I instantly fell in love with her and played the CD over and over again. From about 1990 forward I closely followed Celine’s meteoric career and found myself enjoying any song that she performed. 

I had often considered traveling to Las Vegas for the sole purpose of seeing Celine in person but I somehow never got there, nor was I able to see her when she toured. Nonetheless I considered her to be one of the most incredible singers I had ever heard. She had a range and a sensitivity for delivering lyrics that was magical. I imagined that I would still have time to one day witness one of her performances. Little did I know that Celine was harboring a secret that was terrifying her. 

It seems that Celine Dion was noticing troubling things about her voice and even her body, particularly after a performance. She began to experience spasms in her limbs and her voice would sometimes be uncharacteristically raspy. She took Valium to calm the skittishness of her body, often more than once during a live show. Even as she understood that drugging herself to hide the pain, she kept doing what made her fell alive. As her pain became more and more unbearable she had to begin cancelling performances using excuses like having a sinus infection or a virus of some kind. Eventually her symptoms became so severe that she had to pull the plug on singing altogether. 

It seems that Celine Dion had been diagnosed with Stiff Person Syndrome or SDS, a rare autoimmune disease that affects one or two people in a million. It is a neurological disorder that cause spasms of the limbs and even of the lungs. As her illness progressed, Celine was unable to sing as she once had. She often experiences debilitating events during which she is unable to control the horrific symptoms of her disorder. These days she is mostly homebound, fighting to become strong enough to return to the occupation that she believes defines her very existence. 

Recently I watched a documentary on Amazon Prime called I Am Celine Dion. It was admittedly difficult to watch because Celine did not attempt to sugar coat her experience with SPS. In fact she was quite honest about how difficult her journey has been and how much singing is part of who she has always been. She misses the excitement of the crowd and the exuberance of hitting the right notes. She has been passionate about singing since she was a child and she does not mince words about how tragic losing her gifted talent has been for her. 

During the filming Celine goes into a terrifying spasm that contorts every part of her body while her blood pressure fluctuates to the point of danger. Seeing her contorted face and limbs which in those moments brought me to tears. I viscerally felt her pain. I recently experience spasms in my back that were so strong that I felt as though I was literally going to fall to the ground. In the worst moments just moving from one position to another was excruciating. I cannot imagine enduring this kind of thing in the hands, feet, limbs, back and even in the very act of breathing on a regular basis. It has to be frightening and debilitating for Celine and those who love her. 

Celine Dion feels her loss in every fiber of her being. The gift of a magnificent her voice has been cruelly taken away from her. For me it would be like being unable to see so that I can read, and write and teach. We each find our talents if we are lucky and having them struck down without warning is perhaps the cruelest irony anyone might endure. For such a thing to happen to a person who is as extraordinary as Celine is a nightmare. Nonetheless she seems determined to return to performing one day even if she has to crawl back to the stage. 

Celine sang a song with her new condition and quite obviously her voice has changed considerably, but she still sounded beautiful. I can imagine her changing the way she sings like Frank Sinatra eventually did as he grew older. She might sit on a stool or a chair with only a spotlight while she croons in a raspy but still stunning voice. It would be different, but I believe that her fans would cheer her on and love her as much as always. We all like stories of courage and hers is certainly one for the ages. 

I’ll be thinking of Celine Dion from here on out. I’ll be cheering her hopeful progress. She deserves to be able to use the beautiful gift that is her voice. For now she has proven to once again be an inspiration with her humility and honesty about how she feels. There are surely others who are suffering who will find hope in her message. I know that she has had a deep affect on me. 

In the documentary Celine Dion attempts to consider who she is. She admits that singing has always represented her very soul. Perhaps she will learn that she is doing as much for the world by revealing her difficult journey as when she sang like an angel. I certainly wish her well and I hope that her heart will go on.