Month: September 2024

Of late my calendar looks like a mess. I plan things and then something unexpected happens that changes the flow of my appointments. This on again off again serendipity has been affected by everything from the weather to family emergencies. As someone who likes to accomplish things in a timely manner it’s been difficult to draw lines through unfulfilled goals, especially those that have involved meetings with friends. 

I’ve been attempting to get out a bit more for several weeks now but my best laid plans seem to quite frequently go awry. I can’t honestly predict what I am going to be doing from one day to another and that is becoming a bit annoying. I tend to think of myself as an introvert but that only means that I prefer to recharge my batteries alone, not with a crowd. In truth I really enjoy being around other people and that has not been happening much for quite some time now unless I really reach out and work hard to make things happen.

I was delighted recently with a visit from one of my former students who came with his family. We spent several delightful hours laughing and talking and catching up on what everyone has been doing. The idea for the visit began with my student’s offer to help with the clean up effort around our yard after the hurricane that blew through. Since we had already taken care of that job he asked if he might just come by to visit. To say that the afternoon was a highlight of my recent days would be an understatement. I felt revitalized with boundless energy after they left. 

We started this summer with a wonderful graduation party for my grandson and promises not to be such strangers with our family and friends in the future. Sadly everyone, including me, got really busy with lots of mundane obligations. Between me, my husband and the ninety five year old who now lives with us there has been a constant round of doctors’ appointments and even a brief hospital stay for the oldest of our new little family. Of course none of that is exactly fun. I began to feel as though the people who do the valet parking in the Medical Center had begun to feel a kinship with us after the twentieth time we showed up there. They represented the most human contact we have had for many weeks.

Facebook has rubbed my face in my current homebound status with photo memories of all of the trips I have taken in the past. June and July have always been filled with vacations to wonderful places, but not this year. The farthest we have been is the forty mile trek to Galveston for a glimpse of the Gulf of Mexico. That was nice but I have an itch to get away. I suppose that it comes from my father who seemed to be perennially planning the next journey to some new destination. 

There have been moments when I have imagined myself throwing a few items in a suitcase and then aimlessly driving away with no particular place in mind. I’d just head north or east or west and see what I find. There’s no telling where I might eventually end up as long as it was away from home for a time. Maybe I was born under a rambling star or something because for all of my life I have found myself suddenly and unexplainably having an uncontrollable itch to just forget my responsibilities and just run away. I hear the call of the mountains, and I must go. I dream of a big city like Chicago or Boston and aim myself in that direction. I think of the ocean and head for the shore. It seems not to really matter where I go. Only the pull of travel is what matters. 

I have had some wonderful times in the summer and should not be feeling sorry for myself for being uncharacteristically stuck at home. I should not be so spoiled that I can’t forego one year of staying in place, but if I’m honest I have to admit that for weeks now I have been gazing outside and dreaming of the places I might go. Perhaps if the weather and the everyday challenges were not dashing my plans to be with friends so much I might be a bit more content. Still, I feel guilty for not being content and understanding that this is just a temporary pause in the fun that I have always had in abundance. This too shall pass and I’ll be feeling hurried and harried in attempting to meet all of the possibilities for fun and engagement with the people that I so love. 

Perhaps I should have a reading marathon of the many books that I have not had time to even open. Maybe I can watch an entire series from start to finish while munching on junk food. I can surely create a vacation like atmosphere right in my own home and even find some other souls who might enjoy coming for dinner or meeting for a few hours at a restaurant. I must get off of my duff and create some magic instead of wasting away the hours wishing that I had the freedom to fly away like a bird. I’m usually good at adapting but I have been slacking off. I think I can turn this different kind of time into something much better than just feeling sorry for myself. I do love a challenge and this is a good one, so stay tuned. You may soon be hearing about how I retrieved excitement out of what at first seemed like a really dull time. I feel confident that I will succeed.

Do not get lost in a sea of despair. 

Do not become bitter or hostile. 

Be hopeful, be optimistic. 

Never, ever be afraid to make some noise 

and get in good trouble, 

necessary trouble. 

We will find a way to make a way out of no way.

          ~the ever beautiful, John Lewis 

I have often found that people who have suffered the most in this world are the most optimistic about how their trials will be resolved. We all know how a young John Lewis grew up in a segregated society in which some people deemed him to be inferior to people of the white race. In his role as a Freedom Rider he was spat upon and physically injured. A lesser man might have given up entirely but he steadfastly worked for equality and justice for all people, eventually becoming a beloved Congressman.

Sadly there are still people suffering both in the United States and all over the world. Sometimes it feels as though despair is the only emotion sufficient enough to handle the feelings of disappointment in the reality that we humans still don’t seem to understand the importance of valuing every person as someone deserving of the same freedoms and opportunities that so many of us enjoy. Reading the words of John Lewis is inspiring and a roadmap for the patience and determination that we must have as we work for a better and better world. 

Congressman Lewis cautioned us to eschew bitterness and hostility, a way of reacting to unfairness that is particularly tempting when the bullies who create the divisions and inequality are sometimes brutal in their beliefs that some people are innately inferior to the rest of us. They do not value the sameness that we all share in wanting to live in a way and a place where we can be ourselves and demonstrate our willingness to work hard to progress from the limitations of our lives. Anger at being misjudged and spurned is a logical defensive mechanism that surely comes to mind when actions and words are belittling of our intentions and abilities. 

Some humans have demonstrated prejudices again and again. They make assumptions about people based on superficial traits like the color of skin or places where people were born. It can be difficult to overcome hatred the way that John Lewis so remarkably did. He understood his own worth and that of the people for whom he spent his life representing. Sometimes his hopefulness led him to dangerous situations, the good and necessary trouble of which he often spoke. 

There have been other heroes in history who made good trouble for humankind. Ghandi comes to mind along with Nelson Mandela. Both men spent time in jail for their troubles. Ghandi was ultimately killed. We might make an endless list of such people if we carefully study history. In the Catholic Church such souls are often canonized as saints. We erect statues in their honor but sometimes, before their messages are fully appreciated by society they are unsung martyrs for causes much grander than most of us consider. 

I am particularly drawn to the optimism of John Lewis because in today’s world there is a kind of feeling that we are about to revert to darker times when entire groups of people were ostracized from societies or subjugated because of physical traits. John Lewis would urge us to find a way to change such attitudes when there seems to be no way to create a more loving world. 

Sadly religion itself is too often used as valid reason for denying the worth of others. There is much misjudging happening all around us. Perhaps when we see this we need to have the courage to engage in the kind of good trouble that is necessary to change such thinking. It can be frightening and daunting to consider defending those who are often unable to defend themselves. 

I think of Jesus and the incredible life that He led. If ever there was someone who got into good and necessary trouble it was He. His short life was dedicated to inclusionary lessons. He demonstrated with his actions that nobody should be spurned. He embraced lepers and befriended outcasts. Nothing in his parables and words was meant to divide us or rank us. In his eyes each person was a beautiful creation worthy of love. He was a revolutionary force Who was punished for his efforts . He engaged in necessary trouble hoping that we would learn from Him.

We might all do well to consider the plight of the most reviled among us and determine how we might help them to be accepted and appreciated. Surely we must see that demonizing any group without knowing them just because we do not understand them goes against the laws of goodness and kindness. Instead of telling people to go away we might begin to consider the idea of really seeing them, talking to them and learning what they need to feel as free and fortunate as we are. It’s time we swim out of the sea of despair and do what we know deep down in our hearts is right. A dose of good trouble would be great for all of us.

My mother often urged me to “watch and learn.” I suppose that hearing this command turned me into an inveterate observer. I tend to be the quiet person who scans a room looking for insights into the human experience. I became so good at watching and concurrently learning that my mama eventually had to chide me for staring too long at people and making them feel uncomfortable. Looking at the world around me is a habit that follows me wherever I go. 

I recently attended a lovely baby shower and brunch for a former student and because I did not really know anyone there I found myself lapsing into my habit of taking in the room and just looking at the interactions of the women there. It was a lively group made up mostly of relatives who seemed to be quite excited about being together in such a lovely setting. I overheard conversations that convinced me that many of the guests were fellow educators like myself. They were discussing the difficulties of the last few years and many were considering alternative vocations given the high level of anxiety that seems to be so much a part of teaching these days. The autonomy and creativity of each classroom has all too often been replaced with scripts and canned programs that feel uncomfortable to veterans who have always adapted to the needs of individuals students rather than relying on a single plan. 

I chose not to interact with the many conversations because it was more interesting to simply listen like a fly on the wall. Only now and again did someone move near me to find out who I was and why I was there. In most cases they wanted to know how retired life was going for me and whether I thought that they might enjoy such a state as well. I surprised them by announcing that my days of freedom had been brief because I very soon found myself bored by a lack of real meaning in my days. I took on part time teaching and tutoring gigs because being with students seems to be necessary for my well being. I am revitalized by the teaching experience and luckily now I am totally my own master in designing the coursework for those with whom I work. My lessons are individualized to the micro level. 

Not all of the conversations were about education although that topic dominated. There were reunions of people who had not seen each other for a time and sharing of memories from days past when they were younger. The group was a mixture of generations from the grande dame grandmother to the toddlers playing impishly with one another while their mothers were distracted. Most of the people were descended from recent Spanish speaking immigrants so the conversations flowed easily from one language to another. The younger members tended to be highly educated and living the American dream in terms of lifestyle. Both their English and their Spanish was impeccable, with not a scintilla of an accent. Their ability to flow easily from one language to another had made them exceptionally gifted employees with a skill that few long time Americans possess. 

I thought of how quickly the sons and daughters of immigrants adjust to being citizens of the United States. In only a few years most of them had become indistinguishable from every other American. Each of them provides the workforce with skills and understanding of people that are incredibly valuable to our nation. Their parents or grandparents came here wanting better lives, sacrificing to help their children find success, and the results have been stunning. I wondered how many who scream that immigrants are our biggest problem have any kind of knowledge about how much they provide to the enhancement of our country. 

Just as my grandparents came to the United States barely able to speak English and only educated enough to provide intensely labor bound work, many of the people at that shower had come to being from the sweat and hard work of elders who had a dream for their families. Within a single generation the children of such enterprising people become an integral part of the bedrock upon which this nation depends. My mother and her siblings were model citizens in every sense of the word. Their children rose to the middle class quickly and their grandchildren have become even more successful. Nobody would even guess that in the beginning my grandparents were derided and mistreated simply because their accents were foreign and their appearance was judged as lowly and lacking. 

I enjoyed that shower so much because it spoke so loudly about the beauty and possibility that comes from bringing people from all over the world to our shores. I saw the immigrant story in all of its glory and remembered that I too came from such a legacy. Instead of complaining about people who want to join us, we should be celebrating their arrival and welcoming them to the good fortune that we enjoy only because someone in our ancestral line had the courage to begin a new life in a country with boundless opportunities. This is who we are and what it means to be an American. Isn’t that beautiful!

In a speech at the White House near the end of the twentieth century Elie Wiesel spoke of the perils of indifference, ignoring or not caring about the suffering of others. We don’t have to wear sackcloth or donate all of our money to charitable causes, but we must be aware of injustice and need in the world around us. We must work to erase the horrors of the present even if it means sacrificing some of our luxuries. The wrong approach would be to insist that sufferings happening far away from our neighborhoods or our nation have nothing to do with us. If we are indeed to be compassionate and loving Christians or Jews or Muslims or agnostics we must be willing to speak out whenever and wherever we see humans being persecuted or ignored. It is up to each of us to actively work to stamp out ignorance and hate and brutality. Averting our glances or proclaiming that it is none of our concern is the prelude to assassinations and wars and genocides. 

Every person on this earth is worthy of enjoying a good life of freedom, security and respect. Sadly far too many souls are victims of circumstances over which they have little control. When they come to us pleading for understanding and help we must not allow indifference to their plights cause us to ignore or even persecute them. 

We often refuse to ask the right questions when massive numbers of people are risking their very lives to cross over our borders. Instead of seeing them as problems that must be eradicated we need to ask why they are here. We need to know what they are attempting to escape, what they hope to find. We must treat them as the beautiful individuals they are. We would do well to show them respect and kindness. But for our own good fortune we might be one of them, dreaming of a decent life for ourselves and for our families. When our only thought is to deport them or treat them like criminals without ever knowing them, we are practicing the most vile form of indifference.

When we condemn the students who are attempting to make us aware of the destruction of life in Gaza we might be inclined to see them as trouble makers, rabble rousers who are behaving like spoiled children. Our indifference to what they have to say clouds the real issue which is that they want justice for the innocent, not for Hamas or evil doers. They want the displaced children and families of Gaza to be safe. Their intentions are admirable, not anti-semitic. They only criticize the extreme violence being inflicted on people who had nothing to do with the October attack on Israel. The majority of them advocate for peace and fairness. They are not indifferent to the nuances of the conflict, but many times those of us who criticize them are in fact indifferent to their good intentions. 

When we hurl our religious invective at people that we consider to be perverse we are acting exactly the opposite to true Christian beliefs. We become hardened and indifferent to Jesus’ message to love each other. Our judgmental attitudes keep us from seeing those whose lifestyles are not the same as ours as human beings worthy of love and compassion. Our indifference to the the taunting and suffering that they continue to endure in the name of all that is holy is in stark contrast to how Jesus urged us to be. He did not hang out with the wealthy or even the most religious men of his time. He spurned sacred rules that hurt people. He embraced those who were shunned by society over and over again. Surely as we read about his life it should be obvious that he was never indifferent to the most vulnerable outcasts. In fact, he died because of his audacious behavior that pointed to the hypocrisy of religious men who hid behind the rules of indifference. 

I firmly believe that most people are good. They want what is best for all people. Sometimes they just feel overwhelmed by the many events that are wreaking havoc in the world today. Sometimes they simply believe that they must first begin with themselves and their families. After all it would be incredibly daunting to be responsible for the entire world. Not even the great President Franklin Roosevelt thought that he should interfere with the way things were by welcoming the Jewish refugees who sought relief in the United States when they sailed here on the St. Louis. He watched as they were sent back, perhaps hoping that they would ultimately be okay. Instead many of them eventually perished in concentration camps. 

We might have thought that being part of the Civil Rights movement of the twentieth century was really none of our business but our indifference to segregation and prejudice toward our Black brothers and sisters forced leaders like Martin Luther King Jr and others to show us the faces of fellow citizens who had yet to be freed from the prejudices of slavery. Those marchers made the people who were still waiting to be released from the chains of racism visible and real to us. It was imperative that we be roused from accepting things the way they had always been. 

Indifference is the enemy of justice and compassion. There are times when we must not look away no matter how uncomfortable it may be to seek the truth. We cannot suggest that because something does not directly affect us that we should not worry about it. We must always be open to learning about the problems of people the world over. We should be willing to listen to them without preconceived notions and we must act when we have the opportunity to help them. Most among us already do such things. Others are unsure or maybe even a bit afraid to take on the problems of people they do not know. We can start by being open and loving and caring about making a difference. 

Ukrainian children went back to school this week. A little girl talked about learning in a hybrid program that will include in person teaching sometime and remote teaching most of the time. She spoke of having a bomb shelter to go to either way if attacks happen where she is on any given day. 

Try to imagine that! We certainly had duck and cover drills for bombs when I was in school. They were few and of course only practice. We often laughed and scoffed at the possibility that our training might one day become necessary. It’s good that it never became real because we had no bomb shelters, only our desks or maybe our own arms covering our heads afforded any kind of protection. The one time I ever felt a real need for such exercises was in an October of long ago during the Cuban Missile Crisis. A good number of my fellow students did not even show up for class in that scary moment. My teacher advised those of us who walked to school to get down in a low depression in the sidewalk or street and then cover our heads just as we had practiced. I remember snickering inside silently because there were no ditches or dips in the landscape anywhere along my route home. 

We have been unbelievably fortunate here in the United States. Aside from the American Revolution, the French and Indian War, the Civil War, or terrorist and shooter attacks we have lived in relative peace. I suppose some groups like our Black citizens might prefer to differ that life has been mostly serene. I understand how they continue to worry about racist attacks on them and how they have little recourse to protect themselves.  

I have never really thought much about the possibility of either traditional or guerrilla warfare taking place in our country. Still, even without actual experience I can see from photos and videos how horrifically war impacts even innocent people. I am riven in two by the war that continues in Israel and Gaza. Both countries are suffering with no end in sight in spite of countless efforts to broker a ceasefire or, even better, an end of the wars. 

I think of the children impacted by war. I grieve over the innocence of childhood that they have lost. I cry at the thought of little ones being frightened and on edge all of the time. They should not have to adapt to horrors so unfairly foisted on them. The want, the injuries, the disease that follows from humans warring with each other changes them forever. When no place is safe they lose a sense of security and trust. Their development is interrupted. They become little more than pawns being moved about by powerful men who can’t find a way to get along with their enemies. Everything that they know is being destroyed.

The little girl in Ukraine demonstrates how children adapt when their lives are not longer novel, but why should she have to pay for the sins of tyrants? Why should a little one in Gaza have live for almost a year now in a state of uncertainty, disease, hunger, violence and destruction. Why should Israeli children live in the fear that no place is safe anymore? What is in our human DNA that all too often brings out warmongering? What in the name of God could possibly make it right to be an aggressor, to kill people who have somehow become enemies?

I cry that children anywhere in the world are ever subjected to our worst and evil traits! I understand death and how it affects the young. Losing my father in a time of peace changed me forever, made me feel less secure, more anxious. Once we humans experience death and destruction for any reason we change. A bit of our psyches are battered and bruised as surely as though an abuser is beating us for what feels like no good reason. 

I can feel the pain of war unlike the way I laughed at the very idea that we really needed drills for attacks by enemies who did not even know us. The fighting makes me feel emotions that are horrific. I want to scream or cry or protest wars. I want the killing to stop. We have seen too much of it of late in between what we view in foreign nations and the vile aftermath of so many mass shootings. We must assess our humanity and wonder how or if it is even possible to maintain peace other forever. 

I cried this morning upon hearing about the people protesting in the streets of Israel. I cried at the thought of babies being paralyzed from polio in Gaza. I cried listening to the little Ukrainian student describing what schooling will be like. I cried when I heard of mass shooting or assassination attempts. I am so tired of crying and feeling helpless that any of it will ever change. Violence is hell for everyone.