Month: December 2024

As a young child I read every book about saints in my school library. I suppose I wanted to know what qualities define a truly good person. I was sometimes frustrated by thoughts that the people whose stories I read seemed more otherworldly than other humans I had observed. I did not think it possible to be as perfect as they were described to be and so I stopped hoping to find a saintly individual who had overcome the kind of flaws that we ordinary humans always have. It was not until I was older that I realized that those little books that I so voraciously devoured had been written more like fairytales than actual biographies of flesh and blood people. I understood that saintliness is not defined as a person without our human limitations, but rather by their efforts to be kind and understanding to others. 

Saints are people like the rest of us but they work hard to focus less on themselves and more on the needs of the people around them, especially those who are often overlooked or even spurned. With my new definition I was able to see that my own dear mother with all of her weaknesses and foibles was at heart a true saint. She was a woman who dedicated her life to loving the people around her to the maximum extent possible. She experienced grave tragedies and hardships and illnesses with an unswerving faith in God and an optimism and generosity of spirit that was unmatched by most of the people I have known. At the same time she was imperfect and at times struggled with a kind of dark anxiety from which she struggled to escape. Somehow she always did through her overriding faith and devotion to her family and friends. 

Jimmy Carter was also such a person. On the whole he was a loving man who used his stature to minister to the needy and suffering people of the world. His faith in God was a driving force for all that he did even as he honestly admitted to experiencing moments of doubt and confusion and even anger over the vagaries of life. In his dedication to others, he rose above the temptations that threaten each of us and lived a life filled with love and compassion for his fellow humans. 

Jimmy Carter was born into a farming family that was not rich but still had more than enough to feel comfortable. He grew up in a home without an indoor bathroom in a time of deep desperation for the American people. He was a citizen of the deep south where segregation was so intrenched that Black Americans were treated as outsiders with few rights in spite of their freedom from slavery. He was a bright young man who had dreams of moving beyond the confines of the little town in Georgia where he was born. With big goals in his heart he went to Annapolis, Maryland where he studied engineering at the Naval Academy and later to Georgia Tech where he secured the knowledge that he believed would be his life’s work. 

After a brief stent working on the first nuclear submarine with Admiral Rickenbacker his family responsibilities pulled him back home to Georgia to run the peanut farm. It was not the life he or his young wife had envisioned but he was a good son who did what he believed he needed to do. Sacrificing for others without too much grumbling would become one of his most impressive traits. He accepted his fate but balanced his responsibilities by becoming involved with local politics. 

One thing led to another and he found himself serving as governor of Georgia and then being tapped to run for President of the United States, a seemingly improbable rise for a man from a small town in a state with deep roots in slavery, the Confederacy and segregation. Amazingly he won the election of 1976 with promises to always be honest and to provide opportunities to minorities who had mostly been shut out of the powers of government. 

He was a quite unexpected spectacle in Washington DC with his outspoken mother who had joined the Peace Corps in her senior years and a crew of Black supporters to whom he gave important positions. He brokered a lasting peace between Israel and Egypt as well as continuing Richard Nixon’s efforts to develop better communication between the United States and China. On the other hand he struggled with an inflation fueled economy in the nation and the fall of Iran into the hands of Muslim extremists who imprisoned Americans living there. In spite of the many innovations that he created he was ultimately defeated after only one term as President and went home to Georgia to decide what to next do with his life. Little did anyone predict how important his next work would become. 

Rather than sitting back and enjoying a quiet life, Jimmy Carter embraced a decades long determination to live for the good of others. He built homes for the poor, fought for the rights of minorities across the world, contributed to global health and eventually earned the Nobel Peace Prize for his unflagging work to make the world a better place. All the while he taught Bible School classes as his hometown Baptist Church and became an icon of goodwill and kindness. 

Jimmy Carter died at the age of one hundred, the only President in history to live so long. He was married for over seventy six years to the same woman who had been his teenage sweetheart. He touched the lives of millions of people around the world while still living in the simple home of his youth. His largess is legendary and few would doubt that he was indeed a saint. 

I heard Jimmy Carter speak at a Rice University graduation ceremony in 1993. On that day he challenged the students to dedicate their brilliance and their energy to enhancing the world for all people. His words were uplifting and honest as he admitted to the kind of challenges they would face but insisted that the best hope for our nation and the world lay in our united efforts to focus with love and compassion on helping those who struggle. I have never forgotten President Carter’s message to all of us and I have marveled over the many years that he spent living the way he asked us all to do. I am certain that when he finally reached the pearly gates of heaven God and St. Peter and the members of his family were all there to greet him with a hearty welcome. I for one believe that he is one of our newest saints, one who inspires me to be a better person. My he rest in peace with the angels.

I often think about the earliest humans and marvel at the genius that prompted them to make tools, gaze at the heavens, create fires, experiment with cooking. I wonder who thought of roasting meat rather than gnawing on raw flesh. How did they concoct bread or make ovens? If left alone in the wilderness with nothing but my wits would I be as industrious and ingenious as our long ago ancestors were? How did they even understand that the pain in their stomachs meant it was time to eat? Do we just have natural instincts that lead us to behave in certain ways and then attempt to continually improve on the methods that we have developed?

It is fascinating to me that ancient civilizations were builders many of whose structures still stand to this very day. Why did humans decide to carve exquisite statues out of stone or paint on the walls of caves? How did they demystify the heavens and know how to keep track of time? 

The ascent of humankind is a marvel that confounds me with admiration. I suppose that there have always been geniuses who rise above their peers to invent and create. Somewhere along our long arc of history people learned how to use their voices in song and began to move their bodies in dance. They made instruments for cooking and playing music and for warring. They also understood the need for working together to achieve higher levels of civilization even as they were wary of outsiders who were not like them. 

So much has happened on this earth that it would take many lifetimes to become acquainted with the enormous history of the planet itself as well as the creatures and humans that have inhabited it. We study these things because in learning about the past we grow closer to understanding our natures and both the advances and mistakes that people have made. I am both in awe of human resilience and worried about our ever present tendencies to fall into the trap of violent behaviors in our efforts to protect ourselves. Somehow our modern ways of living make our time on this earth easier than it has ever been but we have also created horrors like bombs and guns that threaten us with far more destruction than history has ever seen. We have not evolved to a point of peaceful coexistence. We still lie awake at night like the cave dwellers of old worrying about the dangers that threaten us. 

Many humans in many eras have dreamed of a perfect world in which everyone gets along, resources are equitably shared, every person is honored and respected for the contributions that they are able to give. In such perfection we don’t equate the appearance of a person with measures that rank them. We simply cooperate for the good of all. 

Of course history has shown us that we have never been ready for the pipe dreams of eternal peace, love, and joy. Our anxieties tell us that a daily dose of unicorns and rainbows has never come to reality. Our human natures have yet to rise to perfection. Someone always ruins the idea with theft or violence or power plays that take advantage of goodness. For all the time we read about the wonders of humans there is also the specter of want, greed, war, destruction. 

I think about such things just as humans have no doubt done for eons. I like to believe that in most ways we have evolved to a point of being able to live together in relative peace, but the horrors of our footprints still abound. In spite of thousands of years of human genius attempting to show us the way to harmony we still have difficulty just getting along. 

Perhaps it is naive to think that it is possible to use our talents only for good when the evidence is so strong that we have to allow for the deviancies of our natures that spoil our best laid plans. Maybe it is in understanding our individual imperfections and working on them one person at a time that a happier more inviting world will emerge. I suppose that we have to admit that sometimes for whatever reason we will encounter people who are broken but they are the outliers, not the mean. 

Life has always been a struggle for humans. We have to first satisfy our needs for food and safety. We need places to sleep without fear at night. When those very basic necessities are not met, we become agitated and willing to follow either those who are optimistic and enlightened or those who stoke our fears and make us believe that fighting is the only guarantee of survival. The dichotomy of how we choose to face our challenges creates the tensions that have always existed for humans. 

I often find myself feeling very close to the vast array of people who came before me. They are a wonder to me but I also consider the future and how I might make the next days and years and centuries better for those yet to come. I take hope in knowing that even on the most intimate level we each make a difference in the lives of those around us. Perhaps the key to a better world comes in our own personal responsibilities for our families and neighbors and communities. If we can do good work for most of our days we have the cumulative power to move history forward in positive and inspiring ways. This we must do all the days of our lives. The long and winding road of history will continue on and we each have a part in determining which directions to take. 

This is a love story about people from the class of nineteen sixty seven at Mt. Carmel High School. 

Once upon a time they came together to grow in wisdom and age and grace before God and man. They were a cute bunch of kids who met as freshmen and graduated as young men and women Among them was a couple that seemed so cute together, so perfect, but perhaps it was just a high school fling because after graduation they went their different ways leading often exciting and even adventurous lives without each other. 

She loved horses and rode them in competitions. He went to medical school and became a highly respected doctor. Both of them would marry other people, become parents, continue to follow their passions and seemingly move farther and farther away from each other. The sweet photos of them dancing together as teens would age inside photo albums and somehow only be nice memories of a long ago past, or so it seemed. 

Fifty years later they were both single again. Their children were grown. The members of the Class of Sixty Seven were planning a reunion, a time to reminisce and check to be certain that everyone was still doing well. Perhaps that’s when a spark was ignited between them once again or maybe it had always been waiting in the back of their minds for a moment when they might get to know each other again.

At first they were simply two people joining other classmates for dinner dates or celebrations. Before long they were riding horses together on the beach or meeting up for baseball and football games. Everyone saw how happy they were when they were taking dance lessons or just laughing and telling each other stories. It came as no surprise when they announced that they were in love and planning to marry. Their buddies from high school were overjoyed to hear the news. it seemed so right, as though the world had purposely adjusted to make sure that their union happened. 

When the day of their life as man and wife finally came she was beaming with joy and beauty that literally radiated in every photo. The girls from school who were now mature women had stood by her and decade after decade. They were overjoyed to see their two friends coming together. The children celebrated that their parents could find such joy and love even in their seventies. He was handsome and so sweetly smiled at her. It all would have been perfect if he had not become ill on that day. Nonetheless nothing seemed capable of reducing the happiness that their expressions confirmed. 

As time unfolded they went on cruises, hosted wonderful parties, became more and more part of each other’s extended families and circles of friendship. Being around them was revitalizing. The energy released from their devotion to each other was palpable. It felt good just being in the same room with them. Somehow the old saws about the purity and everlasting essence of first love seemed to be confirmed in their partnership. I was a joining of two spirits who seemed meant to be together. 

Just when life seemed so perfect for these two and for the old friends who supported them he was diagnosed with cancer. He could not have asked for better care. She lovingly walked hand in hand with him every step of the way during his medical journey. She kept that brilliant smile on her face and demonstrated her total devotion to the vows that she made to him on their wedding day. She was in it for sickness or health and he once again appeared to be well. 

They celebrated every single day of life with so much gusto that I wondered where they got all of their energy. They seemed to be everywhere doing everything wonderful, hugging and kissing each other with unabated wonder. It was delightful to see them together and to literally witness the power of love. 

Then came a shock for those of us who found our own joy in celebrating their love. He had died. It was devastating and bitterly emotional, but their romance that had seemed more intense that any ever created in fiction continues on in her heart and in the memories of him that she so generously shares with us even in her grief. 

I have cried for her but also understood the great gift of love that the two fo them gave each other. Romeo and Juliet have nothing on Punch and David. Theirs was a very special relationship that mellowed like a fine wine over time. She was a princess and he was her sweet prince. She may wish him goodnight but I know that he will not be gone. His memory will be a blessing to her for the rest of her life.  

None of us sit high enough to look down on anyone.— Author Unknown

I saw this quote on the wall of one of my high school friends. Ironically she and I only glancingly knew of each other back when we were teens but have become closer through the magic of Facebook. I find myself in awe of her wisdom and kind outlook on life and people. Because she lives about fourteen hours away we don’t get many opportunities to visit in person. Nonetheless I just happened to be traveling through her small town in west Texas a while back so I stopped in to talk with her over lunch. 

I have to admit that I had as much fun being with my friend as I enjoyed on the remainder of the trip. She’s a genuine soul who has experienced some hard times in her life but just keeps going strong with the one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen. I felt so comfortable with her as though we had been soul sisters for a lifetime. I suppose that it is because the two of us think very much alike due to the kind of life experiences that we have had. 

I grew up in a bubble that my mother tried to create for me and my brothers after our father died. She purchased a modest home in a family friendly neighborhood and essentially devoted herself to sheltering and caring for us. In spite of her efforts was just old enough to understand how difficult her economic situation was so I sometimes worried about her and my brothers. I never brought my fears to the surface because I knew that she would not have wanted me to be anxious. I did my best to help her by trying not to ask for things that would stretch her budget too much. I studied hard to earn a scholarship to the private school that I attended. The bonus in going there was that I wore a uniform and did not need to worry about having stylish clothing. My five blouses, two skirts and blazer took care of my needs for years. 

In spite of vexing about how Mama was going to stretch her meager budget I was never afraid in the neighborhood where I lived. The people were kind and wholesome and always doing things for our little family. We were the recipients of so much kindness from people who were not that much better off than we were. From them I learned to respect hard working folk who repaired cars, installed plumbing, answered phones, delivered mail. They may not have had a great deal of formal education but they were schooled in life. 

Later, when I was a young mother in my twenties I would live in an apartment project surrounded by what I respectfully called the good ole girls. They were women who had PhDs in common sense. They taught me how to cook up a great meal from scraps and what to do if something broke. They were unafraid and able to stand up for themselves in any situation. They were the type of people who would literally run into a dangerous situation without hesitation. I know this is true because I witnessed them standing up to wife beaters and chasing away a man who had assaulted a woman. They were fearless and my own college education paled in comparison to their greatness.

I have worked with children whose families were described as low income or under served. I learned as much from them as I hope they learned from me. They were rich from a wealth of love and attention from their parents who sometimes spoke no English but came to help nonetheless. I saw courage and determination in them that was impressive. 

A story that I have often told is of a time when we visited my grandmother’s neighbors in Arkansas. I have never again witnessed such poverty firsthand but my grandmother insisted that I look beyond the superficial and see and hear them for their inspiring grit. She helped me to see their souls which were rich with goodness and I saw that nothing else about them mattered more. 

My grandmother herself was unable to read or write but she carried a wealth of knowledge in her head than I have acquired. She had no trouble surviving with or without electricity. She was one with nature, showing a reverence for all living creatures that I have never forgotten. 

I have been fortunate to encounter wonderful souls throughout my lifetime. I learned long ago not to judge them on superficialities but rather by the content of their character. I love that my west Texas friend reminded me of that with her quote lest I slip into to bad habit of looking down rather than into a person’s eyes. I love knowing that each of us has something wonderful to offer. 

My mother came from a large family of eight children. She was the youngest and often liked to boast that competing with her brothers and sisters made her wise and resilient. The truth was that she fiercely loved her siblings with every fiber of her being. They were a close knit lot who gathered at my grandmother’s house almost every Friday evening. 

Those visits became a kind of bedrock of certainty for me after my father’s untimely death. As a child being with my loving aunts and uncle and my many cousins was the highlight of growing up. It was in their midst that I felt safe and secure. I knew their love and concern for me and my brothers with every encounter. I suppose that they molded the person that I would ultimately become. 

We had so much fun on those glorious Fridays when the adults played cards and kibitzed with each other as siblings so often do. It was noisy but happy in the smoke filled rooms. Much of the time I wondered if they even noticed what we children were doing while they bonded as though they had never left home. We were gloriously on our own, playing games outside on Grandma’s front porch or in the middle of the street. 

My grandmother lived in a tiny house on North Adams Street only a few miles from downtown Houston. Her neighborhood had changed from the time when my mother was a child. We kids saw the industrialization of the area that had left only a few homes surrounded by office buildings and manufacturing. A few steps took us to the intersection of Navigation, a wide road leading to the Houston Ship Channel. 

Across Navigation there was a corner bar that was always lively on Friday nights but none of those things kept me and the cousins from having a glorious time. Somehow the scene seemed a bit more delightfully adventurous with its colorful array of humanity adapting to change. We were having too much fun to be fearful that maybe we should be a bit less daring in a place that was not as uneventful as our neighborhoods back home. It was all just part of the ambiance that was wonderful in our kid world. 

We were not particularly creative but we did set rules for a game that we called hide and find. Of course somebody had to start the fun by pulling the short straw and becoming “it.” That person would close his/her eyes and count to twenty five before searching for the others. The trick was to get back to the front porch without getting discovered and caught. With only one person peering in the corners of the backyard and in hiding places up and down the street most of us made it unscathed back to the free zone never imagining that maybe running around in the dark and hiding behind the fences of warehouses may not have been the safest thing to do.

We were young, innocent and without worries. The world seemed to be such a safe place back then. Our naivety both endangered and protected us at the same time. We had not yet noticed how dangerous the world might be. Like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn we were free ranging children who somehow never encountered a single problem on our Friday night adventures. We embraced each other and only competed to get to that porch. Otherwise we simply loved everyone who was part of our special family group.

As we grew older we often went our different ways on Friday nights until one day those times were no more. Our grandmother died and our parents mostly talked on the phone rather than gathering together. We were busy being teenagers and then adults. We married and began our own families, only meeting on Christmas Eve or sadly at the funerals of our aunts and uncles. 

Now we are spread all over the place and many in our ranks have left this earth. Each of us miss those wondrous days when we were young and the love we forged back then has never dimmed. When we find ways to be together again we pick up right where we left off and feel as comfortable and natural as ever. We have an unbroken bond that even our spouses and children will never quite understand. We shared a golden time of life that somehow cemented our relationships forever. 

I sometimes drive down Navigation Street to North Adams. Amazingly my grandmother’s home is still there. It belongs to a stranger now and is the only house left on the street. It’s windows and doors are protected with bars but somehow I manage to see past all of the changes whenever I go back there. I have a picture in my heart of a house bursting with joy and love. It is a comforting thought that reminds me of my good fortune. I think of my cousins and how few of us are left. I hope they understand how much they mean to me even when I don’t take the time to get in touch with them. They were my extra brothers and sisters who shared in the glories of childhood. They are me and I am them.