Category: Commentary

Sometimes there are movies or television programs that find a niche in my heart and seem to stay there forever. Long after viewing I find myself thinking about what I learned from the characters or the story. Ted Lasso is one of those classic series that sticks with me, comes to mind at unexpected times during the day. I literally feel a connection to each of the characters that is so real. I see a bit of myself in each of them and I almost view the series in its entirety as a kind of parable about the human spirit that somehow muddles through even the deepest tragedies and disappointments. 

We humans are both incredibly flexible and strong but also sometimes weak and uncertain. The totality of our experiences often lead us down destructive pathways in which we doubt ourselves or even dislike ourselves. We present protective faces to the world that may or may not comply with how we feel inside. Such are the characters of Ted Lasso, flawed individuals attempting to overcome the weight of stories that have prevented them from fully being themselves. 

When Ted Lasso encounters this cast of characters he at first seems to be a rather naive and silly soul, but over the course of the series we learn that Ted is a classic caretaker. His role in life seems to be to shore up everyone but himself. When dealing with the other people he encounters he almost always presents the kind of wisdom that helps them to become better versions of themselves. He is an optimistic soul who sees the good and the potential in everyone. He accepts and loves people freely, always more focused on making their lives better than worrying about winning or advancing himself. He is a good man, but as often happens with really good people he has a tendency to hide his own suffering, to freely give so much that there is sometimes very little left for himself. 

We all know someone like that, a seemingly saintly soul who ministers to others instinctively. My dear friend and colleague, Sharon Saunders, was such a person. She saved countless individuals from self destructive thoughts and behaviors and yet she more often than not hid her own trials. When she died people spoke of the miracles that she had performed for them but regretted that they had not really told her how important she had been to them while she was still alive. 

It’s not unusual at all for any of us to know and love someone like the fictional Ted or the very real Sharon. In our hearts we feel such gratitude for that person but we allow time to slip away without acknowledging their incredible Impact on our lives. In the bustle of our daily routines there just does not seem to be enough time to genuinely thank people for always being so considerate. 

As we go about the business of living it might be our hairdresser who becomes our therapist, the waiter at the Cracker Barrel who brings a smile to our faces every time we encounter him. Perhaps it is the neighbor who takes time to get to know everyone and then bring them together in celebration who is the Ted among us. The guy who manicures our yard in one hundred degree weather is a true hero, but how often do we tell him that? It is often in the seemingly insignificant areas of life that we find the greatest comfort and joy. We would do well to let those folks know how much we appreciate what they do because they may be carrying loads even heavier than our own.

I went to high school with a lovely girl named Bren. She grew up to become a beloved college professor at Loyola University in Chicago. During Covid, Bren was quietly reaching out to so many of us, sending little notes to cheer us, and even offering hospitality if we ever decided to visit Chicago. Bren was a very busy woman and yet she found the time to do the loveliest things for the people that she knew. I know that she inspired me beyond measure. I never really got to tell her how grateful I was for her kindness because she died rather suddenly. It was a grave loss to the world and many gathered to praise her at her funeral. It seems sadly to be what we most often do instead of loudly proclaiming the wonder of a person like Bren while she can still enjoy the praise. 

Ted Lasso reminds us of the power of compassion, optimism and forgiveness. We would do well to fellow his lead in our interactions with the people that come our way. At the same time we need to honor the Ted Lassos that we know to be extraordinary. Sometimes they too have moments of self doubt. Let them know how wonderful they are just the way they are. Do it today!

It was an abnormally hot day in June. I sat in the food court of Memorial City Mall waiting for a former student to arrive. I took a seat at one of the tables near the carousel and engaged in my favorite pastimes of people watching, I had the perfect excuse for staring at the crowd. If anyone had questioned my reasons for studying each person around me, I would have quickly noted that I was looking for a friend. The crowd was gloriously diverse which made my observation time even more wonderful. 

As a security guard circled the area I was reminded of the violence that has become such a reality in our world today. He was a very young man who walked with more uncertainty and less swagger than he needed to inspire confidence. He seemed nervous which momentarily gave me the jitters. I quickly looked around to see where escape routes looked promising. I tried to determine where I might hide if a shooter was to enter. I worried most about the small children who were so innocently enjoying the freedom to run and play inside the cool, air conditioned space. 

Everyone seemed so happy that I pushed my negative thoughts about shooters out of my mind. Nobody appeared to be deranged. No big guns were in sight. It was just a nice day out for everyone who was chatting and eating and laughing. Best of all the group gathered there was a microcosm of the incredible diversity of Houston, Texas, a welcoming place for people from all races and nationalities. The echoes of foreign languages wafted up to the roof and laughter seemed to be the order of the day.

I was fascinated by a handsome young man who was shepherding his very well behaved five children. They were all as beautiful as their father who spoke gently to them in a language that was unfamiliar to me. Perhaps they were from somewhere in the Middle East. At least this was my best guess about them. The older boys declined an offer to ride on the carousel, but the young ones followed their father with glee as they climbed the stairs onto the lovely platform filled with magical animals that moved up and down and round and round. 

I saw a group of women chatting as though they had not see each other in years. Their smiles never left their faces as they bantered back and forth. I wondered how they knew each other and what had brought them together. Were they old school friends? Had they once worked together? Were they related? Whatever their relationship might have been they were quite happy to be together. 

I overheard a man talking seriously to his lawyer. He expressed bravado in words, but his voice gave away his anxiety. I have no idea what his case was about but it was coming to court and he wanted to be certain that all of his ducks were in a row. When the brief conversation was over, he stared into space as though his phone call had not provided him with the confidence he had hoped to gain.

There were groups of teenagers opening the bags that they carried to show their finds of clothing, shoes, jewelry, games that they had purchased in the stores advertising summer sales. They nodded approvingly at each other as the presentations continued as a kind of ritual. 

A multigenerational family arrived walking purposefully slow to accommodate the grey haired women who seemed unable to move without assistance. Everyone was duly and gently caring for the older lady’s needs. It was beautiful to see the love that passed between mother and daughter, grandmother and granddaughter. Nobody appeared to be annoyed at how much time it took just to get their matriarch seated. They ever so naturally made her the center of their attention. She in turn smiled blissfully at each of them. I supposed that it felt good for all of them to get out of the house and into a place filled with so much to see and do. It was a outing that allowed them to be together feeling normal even as their loved one’s health was markedly failing. 

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a young woman who was sobbing almost hysterically. Her entire body shook with each wail. Her friend moved to embrace her in a hug, wipe away her tears, listen intently to her sorrows. I wondered what tragedy had befallen this young girl. Had she lost her job? Did someone do something despicable to her? How sad it was to see her so devastated in the midst of a sea of people seemingly have fun. 

There were so many stories in that room. Life was all around me showing itself in unfiltered glory. It was a beautiful thing to observe. I was deep in my thoughts when suddenly my former student arrived. She exclaimed with joy when she saw me and immediately embraced me in a big hug. She was no longer the young teen I had known. She was a woman with a family and a job and a wise grasp on how to live a good life. She was beautiful. 

We moved to a quieter place to enjoy our lunch. We talked as though we had last seen each other only yesterday. We spoke of old times, but mostly of the present. It was wonderful to see her so happy and self assured. I felt a contentment in knowing that she was doing so well. After all, I had always wished the best for my students. It was nice to see that she had learned from me that the most important lesson is to respect and love the people around us. 

It was a good day. My grown up student and I left with hugs and promises to meet again very soon. We exchanged phone numbers and spoke of how lovely our brief sojourn had been. I remembered one of the wisest things that I had ever known. It is in the brief encounters with strangers and friends that we often see the hopefulness of humanity. I felt assured that in spite of the hubbub on daily parade in the news, we are going to be alright. Our instincts for getting along and taking care of each other will rise to the fore. Nobody will be left behind as long as we take the time to notice them and demonstrate how much we care.

It’s early morning and I am happily engaged in my usual routine. I arise long before my husband and father-in-law so that I might enjoy the quiet time when even my neighbors are still slumbering in their homes. There are few sounds other than the drone of the air conditioner working to trick us into believing the wretchedly hot July weather is cooler than it actually is. As the sunshine becomes brighter a few birds begin singing their good morning tunes, announcing that another day has begun. Now and again a car starts in the distance signaling someone who is making an early start for work. It is the most peaceful moment of the day when I am able to gather my thoughts, count my blessings and feel thankful.

I open the blinds in all of the rooms of the house save for the places where the men are sleeping and watch the splendor of sunrise. I sip on my tea and nibble on my breakfast while offering birthday greetings to my friends and family on Facebook. I have watched everyone grow older since I joined that social media platform over ten years ago. The heartbeat of life goes on until it does not. Far too many have left this earth and I tend to think of them in the stillness of the day’s beginning. They are still part of me, part of my story and I do miss them. 

I read the morning news from several sources. I like it best when nothing tragic has happened while I was asleep. I still find it amazing that with a click of a few keys I can instantly learn what is happening in the moment. The technology of our modern world enigmatically keeps us constantly connected while also pushing us farther and farther apart. It seems that we have yet to figure out how to use our conveniences perfectly well. Perhaps we have too much information too soon and never have enough time to process what we have learned. I suspect that it keeps many of us in a continuous state of anxiety. Maybe we would be best served if we were to limit the amount of time that we set aside to respond to notifications on our phones, 

Sometimes I find inspiration from a news story or a post from a friend that carries me through the entire day without an unpleasant thought. Other times I learn of someone who is suffering and I find myself thinking of them and wondering what I might do to help them in their time of sorrow. More than anything I enjoy hearing good things about the young people. I know that the working of the world will soon be theirs and I have every confidence that they will know what to do, but I worry that we have left a bit of a mess for them. 

Before the others arise I meditate on many topics. I try to get my mind free of the kind of thoughts that inhibit my ability to enjoy the precious life that I have. Most of the time I do quite well with that, but other times I let my imagination get the best of me and I worry more than I should. Life is all things at once. In the same moment I can remember and feel all that has been good and all that has pulled me down, made me weary. I suppose that each of us is tilting windmills, battling demons while also living our dreams. If someone hangs around as long as I have they will have also endured nightmares and tragedies that seem unbearable while they are unfolding. I have learned that it is okay to be angry now and again, but we each have to be careful not to allow the darkness to enshroud us. At some point we have to dust ourselves off and move past the disappointments, suffering and loss even when it is intensely painful to do so. 

Each new dawn provides us with another opportunity to become just a bit better at living life on this remarkable planet. As a mother and a teacher I have seen that hard work and patience can make dreams come true, but no life is ever perfect or without challenges. Some have more setbacks and tragedies than most of us would be able to endure. We would so well to remember that our good fortune often came only from being born to the right people in the right place at the right time. As my mother often reminded me, every human on this earth desires safety, security, love. Some have to fight harder than the rest of us to find such things. 

My morning musings are eventually interrupted as the people around me awaken. We all have tasks to do, places to go. Life gets noisier and more complicated. I hope that I am ready. I want to be pleasant and accepting even if I’m hit by curve balls that change the direction of my plans. I know that being human I will no doubt get irritated now and again, but I don’t want to be hurtful either by will or accident. There is enough anger and sorrow around us. I try not to be the cause of more. May goal is to be better today than I was yesterday and to forgive myself when I don’t quite measure up.

I love the mornings. They set me straight, determine my goals, chase away the terrors that infect my brain in the dark of night. I begin again. Maybe today I will get it mostly right!

It’s been a while since I worked in a school even as I continue to teach. I suspect that I am somewhat out of touch with the realities and problems that today’s educators face. Now I only hear commentaries from those still fully involved with the profession of spreading knowledge. I listen to the complaints of parents whose children are still in school. I read articles and editorials outlining the difficulties that have arisen inside classrooms. I am an outsider looking in to a place where I once spent more hours each day than I did in my home where most of my time involved sleeping. Still, I feel a pull and tug, a strong connection to the teachers and students and parents who once were the focus of my daily work. 

I was at a gathering of women who were concerned about their children’s well-being at school. They spoke of the difficult times that their young ones had endured in the past few years. They told glowing stories of teachers who heroically attempted to hold things together even as they seemed to be falling apart. They were not angry with the public school system or its administrators. Their target was only the time and treasure lost during the pandemic caused by a tiny virus that decimated so much of what we had come to expect from the world. 

These women spoke of the fear that Covid invoked among their children. They understood and even applauded all of the efforts that educators made to keep their sons and daughters safe as well as still progressing in their learning. They all agreed that it was not the fault of teachers that the kids had fallen behind, become sad and unable to develop social skills. It was simply the cataclysmic impact of uncertainty and death on a worldwide scale that had affected their offspring. Even after almost four years since the sickness and death became the center of attention across the globe, it’s lasting legacy has been a generation of youngsters whose milestones were often unmet. 

The women spoke in awe of teachers who went out of their way to keep the engines of education moving forward. They understood that those efforts were herculian and more often than not under appreciated. Each of them had personal stories of dedicated teachers who were heroes during the most difficult times. They wondered how and why schools and those who work in them had most recently become targets for criticism rather than praise. They complained that those making the most noise, fielding the most ridiculous charges against the work of our nation’s teachers, were setting the political agenda. It worries them to think that the reality of dedication and honest concern for the well being of the nation’s children demonstrated in public schools has become a political cudgel that ignores the the truth. 

Our children and our teachers feel unsafe and misunderstood. We hear accusations of incompetence hurled at our educators and suggestions that our young cannot even read or write or do simple calculations. There are factions ready to tear down our schools to serve the beliefs of small segments of the population. Politicians want to drain funding, determine what can and cannot be taught, bring religious beliefs into the daily routines. At the same time the powers that be oversimplify the horrors of school shootings by suggesting that schools become fortresses guarded by armed adults rather than open and free environments of joy. 

We have been remiss in accepting the psychological effects of the last chaotic years on our institutions and most especially in our children. The key is not to rant about test scores or to revise curricula but to take time to understand how deeply affected everyone has been by suffering, loss, isolation, anxiety. This should be a moment to praise those who valiantly carried on, including the teachers and their students rather than to suggest that they failed an important test of their mettle. There should be opportunities for openness and inclusion rather than focusing on a single way of living and believing. We are missing a grand opportunity to heal while we quibble incessantly over issues. 

I have often noted that our children watch us and learn from how we behave in particular situations. In my essays I have recalled the impact that my parents and grandparents had on me. I have pointed to aunts, uncles, neighbors, teachers, famous people who molded my character, often without ever realizing how much they had influenced me. All of us know that what we see around us leaves a mark on who we become. Wouldn’t it make more sense to ask ourselves what we might do to demonstrate character to our young rather than to think that marching in curricular tandem is the route we must take? We are not even certain at this point what the problems are much less how to solve them. We would do well to pause the demolition of our schools and focus instead on how to build on the foundations that already exist. We might begin by acknowledging how hard our teachers have been working and how earnest the majority our youngest citizens really are.

My heart still belongs inside those classrooms. I know first hand how teachers made me a better person. I understand the blood, sweat and tears associated with being a dedicated teacher. I have observed the earnest efforts of both teachers and students to make themselves and the world better. It is long past time for us all to step forward and ask how we might help to carry some of the heavy load of our educational system. We might start by acknowledging the worth of our teachers and students and showing them the respect they have earned.  

It’s a banner season for travel. After a couple of years of staying close to home due to the pandemic airports are swarming with passengers in spite of the high cost of flying. Europe is overrun with visitors. People are on the move hoping to forget the difficulties that have engulfed so many of us. Nonetheless, underneath all of the joyful return to freedom and normalcy there is still an undercurrent of anxiety, sadness and sometimes even anger that feels palpable. It is as though we have simply reached another phase of coping with the effects of the virus and the non stop political rancor. Somehow we sense that full healing will not occur unless and until we find ways to make peace with one another, a goal that seems hopelessly unattainable in the present atmosphere on a worldwide level. 

I’ve long been an old soul who spends much of my time observing people. Virtually everyone that I know has been impacted in some way by the upheaval of the virus and the ways in which we humans responded to it. In the meantime our differences seemed only to create ever larger divisions between us as evidenced by ongoing wars in different parts of the world and mass shootings in places that were once safe havens for learning and worship and fun. Groups across the globe are taking advantage of our difficulties rather than closing ranks in a spirit of unity to carry us past the hurt of the past three years. While we quibble our young are reporting epidemic levels of melancholy and anxiety. Just attending school has become a kind of horror for them as they grapple with social skills, catching up on learning and wondering if the bang of a door signals their imminent death. 

Our teachers are exhausted with many of our best educators opting out of the profession at least for a time. They feel unsupported by a society that is questioning their every utterance and that prefers that they lock themselves into fortresses at work rather than addressing the issue of having more guns in more hands than anywhere else on earth. They are worried about how their lessons will be perceived by a public that is quick to accuse them of infecting the minds of children. These same teachers who juggled their time and their energy to keep students learning during the worst weeks and months of the pandemic are feeling betrayed by politicians who seem intent on dismantling the public school system rather than supporting and improving it. 

We have legitimate problems that are taking a back seat to silly issues that are of little to no importance. Their only reason for even discussing them is mostly for garnering attention to turn us against each other. They are being used as political cudgels to stoke our fears and our anger. They are aimed at minorities and vulnerable groups while issues like climate change are set aside at the very time when rivers are drying up, fires are burning and winds are destroying lives. We have no unified plans to prepare for the future. Instead we see far too many of those who should be uniting us instead quibbling and throwing shade and insults like bullies. Once beautiful relationships have been impacted because of an unwillingness to see and hear and understand each other. 

Most of us are still reeling from loneliness and loss during the last three years. Some are still unable to join us in our attempts to become normal again. I suspect that all of us dream of a time when when will once again be engaged in fellowship. It’s more important than ever for each of us to check on those who appear to be struggling to readjust because it does not seem likely that many of our political leaders are willing to take the time to be concerned about each person’s needs. We can send a clear message to those who make laws that it is important for the moment that we rebuild our trust with one another, not haggle over debts that must be paid, or infringe on the rights of even those that we do not understand. 

I have lived through years of tumult before, times when we disagreed mightily with one another. I have witnessed the horrors of prejudice against races and lifestyles and people from certain places. Watching a return to such practices is as disheartening to me as it is to our youngest citizens. Calling those who want to make our lives more equitable “communists” is an old trope that oversimplifies the intentions of those who are concerned with the neediest among us. We should be tearing down walls instead of building them. We should be joining hands in compromise rather than getting nothing done. Our current state of anger is hurting real people and is setting our nation back in its forward progress. 

Perhaps it has always been inevitable that we would reach this point in time. We managed to put a bandaid on a few of our national and world problems and then ignored the reality that there was still much to be done. We have been unwilling for some time now to address pressing issues. Our neglect has filled our national house with situations that are toxic to us all leaving us in a state of ill health both literally and figuratively. 

I’ve been writing about the cadence of my life for weeks now. In thinking back on my journey I have realized how fortunate I have been and how often I have settled into a kind of laziness and indifference toward those not nearly as lucky as I have been. I know from experience how much we have neglected the mentally ill. I am certain that we have not always supported our educational systems as much as we should have. I have seen our reluctance to address the violence in our country with solutions beyond platitudes and prayers. I have watched in horror as I continue to see prejudices leveled against so many of our citizens by those in the highest offices of our land. I have watched young people working incredibly hard to live the American dream without support for their efforts. I have watched our great scientific community being ridiculed by uneducated blather. I have been saddened by unravelling of the generosity of spirit after 9/11 and during hurricane Harvey that has all too often been replaced with a selfish competition for money and favors. 

My experience nonetheless tells me to remain optimistic. We have been in difficult times before and we have found our way back to a cooperative spirit in the name of all people, not just some tribalistic base of like minded beliefs. We have the power to bring change but it will require some heavy lifting and sacrifice. It’s long past time for doing what we know is right and just. 

I highly recommend the new book by Dan Rather, What Unites Us! It is the memoir of a gifted journalist who grew up in my own hometown of Houston and then went on to report on world events. Through his own story he highlights the American characteristics that promote the best of our nation. It is a reminder of what is so good about we the people. It’s all still there. We just have to bring forward once again. I do believe that we will.