Category: Commentary

When I was a young child my parents purchased Christmas ornaments to fill out a fairly large sized tree. They were colorful and twinkly as they caught the rays of illumination from the strings of light. I thought they were beautiful and loved lying on the floor gazing up at the glorious sight that signified a wonderful time of the year. As far as I know my mother was still using those same decorations on the last trees of her life which had steadily become smaller and smaller as she grew older. I don’t think that she ever purchased another ornament to add to her collection. She simply used the ones that she and my father had purchased when they were in their twenties. 

When I first married Christmas came quickly, only two months after my wedding. My husband Mike and I scrambled to purchase a small tree and a couple of boxes of colorful glass ornaments to brighten the branches. They were rather nondescript decorations that filled the bill for celebrating the holiday on the very slim budget of our first year together. 

Unlike my mother, I slowly but surely began collecting Christmas ornaments over the years. Every one of the trinkets that decorate my many trees has a story of time and place and people that I have loved. There are the uniques items festooning my travel tree that remind me of places that Mike and I have visited. My mother collected salt and pepper shakers on her trips with my father. I collect Christmas ornaments. They span years of visiting different places and always remind me of the joy I felt on those trips.

At the turn of this century I spent New Year’s day in Austria where I learned of different symbols that supposedly represent good luck. On the eve of two thousand four just before midnight the owners of the restaurant where we were dining presented us with a box of confections portraying four leaf clovers, lady bugs and cute little pigs all of which represent lucky charms. Somehow I got it in my head to begin purchasing little pig ornaments in the years that followed. When I had a sizeable number of them I created a tree dedicated to the precious creatures that I collect whenever I see one that is unique. 

In my dining room I feature a tree filled with beautiful ornaments made from silver and porcelain and carved wood. Most of them were gifts from friends who knew that I enjoy adding to my Christmas ornaments. Many represent milestones in my life like the birth of a grandchild, the purchase of a new home or a wedding anniversary. I even began adding yearly adorable gingerbread men to mark the passage of time. In the middle of all the glory of the delicate creations hangs a plastic angel whose silver paint has faded over time. She may be incongruous to those who see her amongst the other artfully created trinkets but she means more to me than any of them. I managed to take her from a table of castaways after my Grandma Ulrich died. I had seen her on many a Christmas Eve as we celebrated with my aunts and uncles and cousins. She reminded me of those magical evenings with my grandmother padding among her guests in warm slippers offering her milky over sugared coffee with a big smile on her face. That angel is the star of my tree. 

The main tree that stands in my great room is filled with so many memories that it would take a year of blogs to recite all of the stories behind them. Some reminded me of things that I love like Harry Potter or Mickey Mouse. Many were gifts from friends, coworkers and the youngsters that I taught. There are homemade creations like the one that feature a dear friend’s children when they were toddlers. Now they are both in their forties and fifties. My daughter made another one with a photo of our golden retriever Red. There are ornaments from my mother who noticed that I liked to collect such things and gifts from my friend Marita who brought back cute decorations from her travels around the world. There is a handmade set of Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus ornaments that my friend Pat insisted on buying for me on one of our many Christmas adventures and others from my friend Cappy who loves Christmas as much as I do. There is the sweet gift from Jenny and Eric on the occasion of my fiftieth wedding anniversary as well. I get quite emotional setting up this tree because it reminds me of so many good times and good people. Nothing is there that does not evoke special feelings.

There is one more tree that I set up inside my home. I place it on top of a table so that the whole neighborhood sees it through a large window in the second story of my house. It is the tree that holds the ornaments that have become flawed over time. Some have lost their color. Others are missing parts. It is a tree that would make Charlie Brown smile with delight because while it starts out looking rather ordinary and bleak, somehow it is gorgeous when it is finally donned with items that most people might think to throw away. In many ways it is my favorite tree because it is so humble. The only pretense featured on that tree is the joy of knowing that even the least of my ornaments are beautiful to behold. 

I take my emotional journey down memory lane once each year. Dear people still bring new ornaments to me. I also find some that I know I must have. I may be nearing the need for one more tree that I might tuck away on a countertop or table as my collection continues to grow. I gaze at my twinkling trees just as I did with the one that my parent’s created when I was a child and I feel so much joy and peace. Those trees speak of a life well lived and the people I have known and loved. They are so beautiful to me.

Geography was a required class for those of us seeking a degree in education. I put off taking the course as long as possible. I had heard that the professor who taught the fundamentals of geography was a tyrant who never gave anyone an A. I finally registered with great dread and attended the first lecture with a negative attitude. Within five minutes I was mesmerized by the depth and breadth of knowledge that the woman had. Soon enough I was looking forward to the three hours each week when I would learn things about our earth and its people that I had never before known. She not only enlightened me but also demonstrated the interconnections of history, sociology, science and mathematics that affect our earth. Suddenly I understood the importance of focusing on our human dependence on this planet. 

Later I would learn how to teach geography if I were ever called upon to do so. The professor of that class would echo the methodologies of the geography teacher who had so enchanted me. He suggested that students needed to understand the human journey from place to place and the how’s and why’s that enticed them to settle in certain areas. He also stressed the importance of water throughout the history of humankind. Water, he said, was more valuable than any other resource on earth. Gold and oil are of little use if water is not available.

I was only tasked to teach geography a few times in my career. I tried to help my students make the connections that my professors had shown me. I wanted them to understand as I had that history has always been beholden to the resources of the earth and that water is the most important above all. I showed them how cities and towns across the globe began along the banks of rivers or next to oceans or lakes. When humans finally decided to settle down they needed water to grow their crops and quench their thirst. 

We have often been guilty of wasting or polluting our precious water sources. Even today the city of New Orleans is grappling with an invasion of sea water into the fresh water of the Mississippi River. Drought combined with over engineering of the great river has created the devastating situation. Pallets of water had to be brought into the city while efforts were made to halt the invasion of the sea. 

In some parts of the United States drought has caused wells to run dry, lakes to become holes in the ground. We have at times found lead in water sources as well as other cancerous materials. There are Native American reservations that still have no running water even in the modern era. 

We humans need water to stay alive. We must drink a certain amount each day to stay healthy. Our crops will not grow without water. We need water to keep our homes sanitary, to clean our clothes. This summer we have seen the need to conserve our most precious resource. Many of us are still subject to water restrictions and yet there are far too many among us who think of what is happening as mere irritations rather than signs from our earth that we need to become more aware of our individual impacts on the availability of water for everyone. 

We indeed must begin to view water as our most important resource. Just as we invest in stocks and bonds and precious metals, we should be investing time and money into saving water. We need to be as conscious of how we use this life giving resource as we are of saving income for the future. We can no longer afford to simply take water for granted. Already there are places in the world fighting over sources of water. Water has even been used as weapon of war. 

I spent much of the summer researching the history of the dust bowl in the southern great plains. It was human desecration of the native plants along with a years long dearth of rain that left people gasping for life. When dust storms raged, drifts of dirt blocked the doors of homes and seeped through the cracks in windows. The people suffered from dust pneumonia. The carcuses of their livestock were filled with soil that had blown off of the land. The people’s daily prayer was for rain that would fill their streams, ponds, lakes and wells that were as dry as bones. Many died and many had to leave in search of greener pastures kissed by showers from heaven. 

I now find myself taking great care with the water that comes into my home. I reuse dish water in my garden. I take tips from my daughter who catches water from her shower in containers whose precious content might then be used for other chores. My husband is studying how to harness water from our gutters when it rains. We can no longer afford to simply waste what we have. It would be to the benefit of everyone if we kept water restrictions in place to make certain that we do not wantonly throw away this precious resource. 

Conservation should become a habit, one that we do without complaint. It is an exercise for the future that will lead to better health for the planet. It’s well past time to protect our water. All of our money and possessions will be meaningless if there is no water. It’s up to us to keep it flowing and keep it clean.   

I have always been an observer. Even as a child I enjoyed quietly finding a place to sit where I might have a view of the passing parade around me. My parents and my teachers taught me to consider all sides of an argument before choosing a side. They noted that there are times when there is no clear cut winner or loser. The world is so complex that sometimes the middle ground is the best place to be, but that vantage point can also feel wishy washy. There have been times when I had to make a decision one way or another without the clarity that I wanted. Taking a chance on being right about something can be one of life’s greatest challenges. 

It’s especially difficult for a parent to wade into the grey areas of raising a child. I have spent many sleepless nights debating inside my mind, wondering if I was doing the right things for my children. So too it was with my role as a teacher. There were moments when I had to decide how to deal with troubled students even as I realized that there were many sides to their stories. Like Tevye in Fiddler On the Roof I was all too aware of arguments about “the other hand” until there was “no other hand.” 

As I witness the state of the world today I can see the nuances and complexities but I find it difficult to determine the single right answer about so many of the issues, particularly when it comes to the situation in Israel and Gaza. I see the suffering of humanity on both sides of the wall and it tears my heart in two. I wonder when and if the people of the Middle East will ever be able to live in peace and harmony. I worry that my way of thinking about the issues is too soft or that the ensuing wars are too harsh. I long for a peacemaker with the wisdom of Solomon but sense that there is nobody up to the task. I find myself in a constant state of worry over the plight of people whose only desire is to live their lives without fear, want or lack of freedom. 

My understanding of history and politics is strong enough to know that there have always been ruling classes everywhere that decide the fate of ordinary folk. Sometimes those in charge are less concerned with the people and more directed toward keeping and expanding their own  power. We seem to be in a cycle in which strong actors everywhere are pushing the envelope of aggression. Meanwhile there is so much suffering and so few easy answers. 

I am finding it difficult to stop watching and stewing over the state of the world. My overriding instinct is to analyze the situation and seek solutions. It’s baked into my DNA to be serious about such things. On a small scale within my family or inside a classroom I usually find the answers that I seek, but on the worldwide stage I am overwhelmed by the many faces of conflict. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I see that sometimes that is the only way to stop our human aggressions. It pains me to watch the violence and hate being played out in real time. All people are my brothers and sisters so choosing a side to help is so difficult. Ferreting out the enemy is not always clear. Knowing the correct course for stopping the carnage is murky 

We humans have endured a tough time for awhile. We try to entertain ourselves and go about our routines, but in the back of our minds is the chaos and tragedy unfolding sometimes in our own backyards and sometimes far away. Perhaps it would be best to just roll with the tide but doing so may lead us to places that we do not want to be. Fighting the undertow can seem impossible but necessary. Sometimes we have to take a stand, choose the lesser of two evils. With all of the noise around us it can feel impossible to think. I suppose that is where I stand right now. 

Nothing is perfect in this world. No person is all wise or all good. Therein lies the problem of choosing sides. For every good thing there are always dark things as well that give us pause to cast our allegiance. Only some things look certain. Slavery was unequivocally bad. Putin had no right to invade Ukraine. The Hamas terrorists were evil, but the long term fate of Palestinians has indeed been wrought with much suffering and they continue to be pawns in a political chess game. Israelis are reeling from the horrific attacks on innocents in their country but now they have to balance their rage with compassion for innocents in Gaza. There is nothing easy about what each of the players must do. The bloodshed and suffering is heartbreaking and is sadly being repeated in so many hotspots in the world. 

The only certainty that I have right now is that I stand with peace and compassion and generosity. I believe in my heart that we can be very different and still get along in a deeply loving way. I see strength in a willingness to advocate for the millions and millions of souls without voices. We can root out the evil without collateral damage to people whose only wish is to live and work in freedom and comfort. It’s an ideal presented to us by Jesus of Nazareth over two thousand years ago. We would do well to get back to the basics of his command that we learn how to love. As we enter the holiday season perhaps the greatest gift that we might offer is to spread kindness and most of all understanding of our mutual humanity. A ceasefire of rancor can begin with each of us.

I recently turned seventy-five, an age that I never imagined being. When I was younger I thought of such a number as an indicator of an ancient person ready to settle into writing the endings of their stories. As I witnessed the vibrancy and wisdom of my grandfather who spent another thirty three years beyond his diamond jubilee I began to rethink the idea of old age. I saw that he was just hitting his stride in his seventies and would not slow down until a year or so before he died at the ripe old age of one hundred eight. 

I doubt that I will equal his stamina and longevity, but I’d like to believe that I still have plenty of time to continue learning, traveling and meeting people. I want to be someone who is willing to change with the times like he was. More than anything I long to know and understand the people that I encounter in deeper ways than just superficial niceties. I want them to know how much I really care about them regardless of how different our personalities and philosophies of living may be. I don’t claim to know all of the secrets of a good life, but I have found that the happiest moments that I have experienced have all been in the presence of my fellow travelers in life. 

As humans we need deep connections and to achieve such relationships we have to be willing to open our minds and our hearts to experience and celebrate the essence of each person we encounter. Even the hardest soul wants to be seen, heard and understood. We all respond to kindness and appreciation, but we don’t always reciprocate such feelings when we should. We want people to take the time understand us, but sometimes are too quick to judge others who don’t appear to meet our standards. As we rush through our lives we too often take people for granted or make assumptions about their behavior. We would do well to consider what might be making them appear to be disagreeable rather than immediately shunning them. 

I went to a funeral and knew that everyone who was there deeply loved the person who had died and yet each individual was responding to the great loss in different ways. Some were openly grief stricken with tears running down their faces. Others were bravely consoling everyone else, making certain that the people around them were feeling comforted. There were people who were telling jokes, acting silly. They did not care any less than the others. They simply had a different way of harnessing their emotions. There were storytellers who seemed to know just what to say about the deceased and his relationship with each person who was present. There were those who quietly drifted to the sidelines in their discomfort and needed to be alone to process their grief. 

Who’s to say which person displayed the best or the healthiest behavior? We all have our own habits and a bit of baggage as well that influence how we will respond in any situation on any given day. There really is no always right or wrong way of doing things, but we can learn how to be more open to our personal feelings and those of the people around us. A bit of introspection is a good thing as long as we don’t just brood. They key to a happy life is accepting that none of us is perfect. We are all born innocent. It is in living that we are molded one way or another. Even within the same family unit we will turn out just a bit differently from each other. 

My mother loved fiercely, sometimes even people who had spurned her. Before her mental illness took hold of her mind she was highly regarded and admired in her community. When her depression or mania changed her behavior she frightened some people and they turned away from her. The woman who had once been a confidant and font of wisdom for people grew ever more isolated as fewer and fewer of those who once were her friends felt comfortable enough to stand with her. In spite of their rejection she continued to speak of them with love as though she did not even notice that they had abandoned her. She taught me how to forgive. 

The politics of life often create divisions, rifts, wars. We take sides and classify people and countries and beliefs as being either good or evil when we know that sometimes situations are not that clear cut. We divorce ourselves from individuals or groups who make what appear to be mistakes without attempting to discern what motivated their thinking. We don’t want to hear the different sides of beliefs, choosing instead to isolate ourselves with only those with whom we agree. We create walls around our minds lest we learn something that will make it difficult to be so certain that we are right. 

The vast majority of people all over the world are good and loving and just trying to survive from one day to the next. We would do well to be open to them, to learn about them, to be willing to change our opinions about them. It really is possible to accept differences and get along. The wisdom of age has shown me that truth over and over again, but I’m still not where I hope to be. I continue to learn and I try my best to keep an open and forgiving mind. Perhaps one day I will actually attain the wisdom of age that I seek.

I voted for Jimmy Carter when he ran for President of the United States. I liked what appeared to be his folksy ways and his political platform. I also thought that his wife Rosalyn was a beautiful and sweet woman. My feelings about President Carter and his wife were rather superficial in the time when I supported them. I was a young mother still in my twenties more concentrated on caring for my family than thinking about politics. I was literally just learning how to be an adult while carrying the hefty responsibility of helping my mother to keep her bipolar disorder at bay. 

Admittedly I paid far less attention to the political environment than I did to the duties in my own household. I knew that I liked President Carter’s policies and his visions for the future of our country. What I did not note at the time was his wife Rosalyn’s advocacy for mental illness. I only belatedly realized how dedicated she was to abolishing the stigma of mental illness and providing adequate services for those afflicted with diseases of the mind. She was far ahead of her time in a crusade to help those whose brains are afflicted with illnesses that alter the trajectory of their lives and often make them misunderstood and even shunned by society. I was too busy tilting mental illness windmills of my own to fully understand the remarkable work Mrs. Carter began and continued to advocate for much of her life. 

Rosalyn Carter was a typical southern woman in her quiet humility, but she was a warrior when it came to defending the downtrodden. Her faith in God and her love of people regardless of who they were was unrelenting. Her love story with Jimmy Carter was one for the ages. Mostly though her decency and compassion was the hallmark of her well lived life. She was not one to steal the limelight or boast about the remarkable things that she accomplished. Instead she focused on simply doing the right thing for humanity over and over again in quiet ways. 

My cousin Terri has been a fan of President and Mrs. Carter for many years. She believes that the two of them exemplify all that is truly good in our human natures. When she learned that she would be able to attend a Sunday Bible study program with President Carter she worked to secure a place for herself and her husband and son. When she received word of a secured reservation she began preparing for the big moment the way one might approach the prospect of meeting a rockstar. In her mind she was going to see the most important role model of her life. 

Terri kept us all apprised of her visit to Plains, Georgia. It did not disappoint her in the least. It was more magical for her than a celebrity tour of DisneyWorld would have been. At the end of the Sunday school program she lined up with the other guests for a photo with President and Mrs. Carter. She was instructed not to attempt to touch the former President and First Lady but only to stay for the picture and then move on. The actual experience turned out to be even more inspiring than she might have imagined. 

Mrs. Carter wanted to know all about Terri and her family. She was touched by the fact that Terri had been planning this trip for years and that Terri had traveled all the way from Austin, Texas to fulfill her dream. When the photo session was completed Mrs. Carter grabbed Terri’s hands and earnestly invited her to return again. As Mrs. Carter kept her tender grip on Terri she explained how important such visits were to her husband. She warmly thanked Terri for coming and expressed the genuine hope that she would see her again. 

Rosalyn Carter was the love of her husband’s life, but she was also the most important sidekick in all of his adventures. She did not just go along for the ride with him, she also contributed wisdom, grace and compassion for the people of the United States that she and her husband both loved. Her generosity and dedication to helping those who sometimes struggle to help themselves was as real as it gets. She saw all people as her equal, never thinking that anyone was less worthy of love and respect than herself. Together she and her husband showed us how to live long, productive and meaningful lives. 

I believe that history will judge Rosalyn Carter to be among the greatest First Ladies of our country’s history. She quietly but forcefully supported her husband in his difficult job. At the same time she advocated for people who are so often neglected and misunderstood. She was far ahead of her time in understanding the needs of her fellow Americans. She unpretentiously served the people of the United States and showed us how to change the trajectory of people’s lives. She spent the greater part of her life serving the least among us just as we have all been instructed to do. She took up hammers and saws to build futures for thousands upon thousands. She pushed for understanding and acceptance of the mentally ill. She made love an action verb. 

It is always heartbreaking when truly good people leave this earth. It is up to us to remember how they have shown us to live well and to follow their examples. Rosalyn Carter was indeed an angel among us. Her work is done and she is at rest. Now it is our turn to take up the tasks that she showed us how to do.