Category: Commentary

“We are all a little broken but the last time I checked broken crayons color just the same as whole ones.” —Unknown

I have taught so many young people, many of whom seemed ready to take on the world with competence and wisdom. Others stumbled and fumbled and appeared to be destined for a world of trouble. Most of them rambled through their twenties on a quest to find themselves and to my great delight they were almost always successful. 

There have been many studies about human development that suggest that our brains are still forming well into our twenties. That does not mean that we will be a hot mess until the evolution is mostly complete but it does suggest that we may make mistakes as we chart our courses in life. Somehow as we grow older we often forget about our own mistakes in our youth and focus a kind of unfair judgement on the young men and women just starting down the road of adulting. 

We’ve all heard older folk lamenting the flaws of today’s twenty something men and women. They boast about the work ethic and accomplishments they achieved at the same age, condemning anyone in that age group today who is struggling to find themselves. They often forget their own dramas or brush them under the rug where they think that nobody can see them. Instead I would suggest that we encourage young adults, boost their belief in themselves, consider the hardships they may be facing, and help them to learn from any mistakes we may perceive that they are making. 

I know a man who has many skeletons in his own closet that most people are polite enough not to mention. He was ranting about a young woman that he once knew who was neurotic, lazy and wanting in common sense. He remarked that he never felt comfortable around her and ended up pushing her away when she came to him looking for help.

What he does not tell is the whole story of their relationship. She was only twenty four and he was in his late forties. She was a relative by marriage who had lost her father to a heart attack and not long after that had watched her mother die from cancer. She became so overwrought that she ended up divorcing her husband, something that was probably destined from the start given that both of them had been far to young when they eloped. Her lifeboat came in the form of a sweet and kindly aunt who kept her door open for the young niece. When that aunt died of a heart attack one Sunday morning the young woman broke. 

She spent a great deal of time doing exactly the wrong things. She was unmoored, without direction and seeking solace from someone, anyone who would listen, including the man who spurned her. He was convinced that she was a loser who just meant trouble for everyone and so he broke off all contact with her and then continued over the years to complain about what a disappointment she had been. 

As happenstance often does, I encountered the woman many years later when she was in her fifties. She had pulled herself together, earning a college degree and becoming a highly respected teacher. Eventually she was even tapped for administrative work. I witnessed the transformation that she had undergone. She became confident and responsible most likely because she had found someone who believed in her and also because she had matured. 

As a teacher who keeps in touch with many of my students I have seen such transformations over and over again. Not everyone finds their way without stumbling and many of their pitfalls can be dangerously traumatic. Coursing through the twenties with images of how one should be is not always as smooth sailing as we sometimes wish it to be. Some of the most successful and happiest people made countless bad moves during those early years. With a bit of luck they manage to learn from their mistakes. In fact, they become better versions of themselves than the ones that they had once believed they should be. 

We all have stories of blowing it in relationships or with jobs. We get ourselves into corners and situations that break our spirits. It happens to virtually everyone so we should remember how it feels whenever someone comes to us seeking a bit of kindness. It is not a time to be judge and jury when we learn of someone’s mistakes. Instead we might simply show them that we understand and we care. The road to healing lies in the arms and goodwill of the people around us. We each have the power to show the broken souls how beautiful their colors remain.

I once considered becoming a doctor but decided not to follow that road for multiple reasons. I became a teacher instead and so I don’t dispense medical advice to people other than in generalities. I mostly tell individuals to find a doctor with outstanding credentials who is respected among his or her peers. While a well meaning person sometimes provides me with ideas of how to treat this or that ailment I usually find that asking my primary care physician what measures to take leads to far better outcomes than if I google my symptoms and attempt to self diagnose what is going on with me. 

I worked during the summer for a doctor many moons ago when I was still in high school. I vividly remember the time that he called me into his office and counseled me to call a physician before getting myself upset by any scary pains I might one day feel. Above all he insisted that I never simply rely on the uneducated advice of a neighbor or friend or relative to treat myself. He told me that people quite often assume that they know exactly what a sick person needs to feel better but that deciding on a plan for care is complex and requires lots of critical tests to determine a true diagnosis. 

I remembered his wise words over the years even as I sometimes attempted to resist the impulse to call a doctor thinking that if I just waited a bit things might resolve themselves. Once that led me to walking around with hepatitis risking the health of others that I encountered. It was actually my good neighbor who literally insisted that either I call my doctor or she would do so. I ended up being far sicker than I imagined and it would be three months before my ordeal was finally resolved because I had waited so long. 

I’ve sadly done that in other instances as well like thinking that I might end the pain in my knees with exercises found on the Internet. Not until I was feeling like a cripple did I contact an orthopedic specialist who lessened the paint with shots and then directed me to physical therapy. The results have been so positive that I no longer worry that I will forever doomed to a wheelchair. 

I mention these things not because I do not believe in the advice that doctors give me, but because I sometimes think that my complaints are too minor to bother them. That’s when I listen to the old wive’s tails that generally never work. By the time I get to a doctor’s office I am worse off than I needed to be. 

I suppose that many are like me but I have watched my father-in-law stay unbelievably healthy by following the advice of doctors to the letter. His entire daily routine is determined by the instructions that his many doctors have given him. He never varies, never falters and never allows any change in the way he is feeling to fester until it gets worse. He alerts his doctors immediately and they have literally saved him from death multiple times because of his diligence. At the age of ninety six he is in better shape than many of my younger friends.

I have thought about all of this when I listen to the fantastical medical thinking of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. who has been tapped to be a leader in assuring the health of the people of the United States. What bothers me is that he only has ideas, no training in medicine or science, no degrees in those areas. He simply has done what he calls a great deal of reading and talking to people with alternative ideas that he believes should radically change the general practices of medicine in our nation. In other words he is little better than the neighbor who thinks she knows better that my doctors or the Internet advice that I use without actually knowing the exact problem with which I am dealing. Those of us who rely on folk remedies are fools.

Kennedy is well known for his debunked theories about vaccines including the erroneous idea that they are causing autism in young children. He does not believe in germ theory but harbors a long deserted idea that good health can be had by anyone who eats properly and exercises regularly, ignoring the reality that sometimes even the healthiest among uus contract diseases that cannot be treated by lifestyle alone. 

One area where Kennedy and I totally disagree involves the treatment of mental illness. He seems to think that the mentally ill should be sent away to farms where their minds will be calmed by doing the manual labor of growing fresh vegetables and fruits. He insists that such programs will heal them more quickly than administering medications. He is unwilling to take into account the fact that many people like my mother are able to lead relatively normal lives with properly supervised medicines. I have seen the miracle of such things with her and I doubt that she would have been able to work full time until she reached retirement age without them. I know for certain that she would have felt betrayed if we had sent her away to a farm. 

Kennedy is not willing to admit that many people died of Covid because they chose not to accept the vaccines that became available. He does not seem to understand that no doctor ever said that the vaccines would prevent Covid but that they would better protect the individual if they came down with the virus. As it happened there were some people who did not make it in spite of being vaccinated but that sort of thing happens with many different types of treatments for everything from cancer to heart disease. There will always be humans who do not react the same as the majority when it comes to medications or treatments. Sometimes people die in spite of the efforts of the doctors who treat them. My brother for example has a compromised immune system and tests showed that the vaccines did not create immunity in him the way they did for me.

We have some of the finest doctors and scientists in the world in this country. One of them should be in charge of the nation’s health, not a hack who peddles misinformation. Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is a danger to us all and Congress should impeach him and refuse to vote for anyone to replace him who peddles dangerous theories. We can and should do better than that for the sake of us all but most especially for our children. 

As I write this we are knee deep in planning for a big trip to celebrate my husband Mikes’ successful radiation treatments for his prostate cancer. Five weeks of tests and preparations led to eight weeks of radiation therapy five days each week. It was exciting for both of us when he rang the bell at the beginning of August. It had been a long journey to that moment that even included cataract surgery for me. When all seemed to be going well Mike announced that he wanted to return to London, his favorite city on the planet. I was more than eager to fulfill his wishes, so we got busy purchasing flights, reserving hotels and booking times at all kinds of interesting places. Our tour will include side trips to Edinburgh, Scotland and Paris, France as well as day trips to Greenwich, Richmond and Windsor. We will be on our way on September 28, God willing and if the creek don’t rise.

The truth is that so many things might go wrong. We have reserved respite care for Mike’s father at a wonderful place in the Heights of Houston but he could become seriously ill and the whole plan would collapse. For that matter at our ages Mike or I have the potential to become unable to travel, not to mention that Houston is well known for torrential downpours that flood the city and shut everything down. With a bit of good luck none of that will happen and we will be a couple of giddy seniors enjoying our first venture over the pond in six years. We were scheduled for Scotland in 2020 but we all know how Covid ended all of those kind of dreams. We’ve been waiting patiently for a moment that seemed rather elusive until now so our fingers and toes are crossed. 

There is so much in London that we have not yet seen. Big Ben was almost invisible with scaffolding when we were last there. We never had time to visit Parliament or to have a proper tea time at Fortnum and Mason. I’ll be living a dream when we see Phantom of the Opera in the West End theater district where it premiered fifty years ago. If we can fit it in, we might to go see The Mousetrap as well which holds the record for the longest continuous run of over seventy years. Hopefully we might additionally catch an Eventide service at Westminster Abbey. 

I’m particularly excited about going to Scotland. I have many ancestors from there and I’ve actually had a person or two ask me if I am Scottish. There will be more to do in Edinburgh than we will have the time to explore, but we have set aside an entire day for the castle and it’s surrounding area. A little shopping along the Royal Mile sounds enticing and hopefully we will get that Harry Potter feeling in the quaint shops and pubs. I won’t be satisfied unless we hear a bagpiper or two. I have a feeling that I won’t want to leave but Paris will be calling.

We plan to arise early one morning when we are back in London and ride the high speed train that will get us to Paris in two and a half hours. My number one request is to see the rebuilt Notre Dame Cathedral. I have yearned to see it for most of my life and especially so since the fire. Of course Mike and I will walk along the Seine River and we already have reservations for the Louvres. I suppose we will at least go look at the Eiffel Tower and maybe the gardens at Versailles but I would prefer munching goodies in the bakeries and wandering along interesting streets. 

We chose visiting Richmond for a rather silly reason simply because it was the site of one of our favorite television series, Ted Lasso. Aside from that there is much to do there. The town has a long history that includes the time of Henry VIII. They also boast a beautiful botanical garden that I don’t intend to miss. It will be a nice way to see a part of England that is interesting and only twenty seven minutes aways from London by train. 

We may visit the home of Charles Dickens or the Sherlock Holmes museum. I’m a huge fan of Dickens’ novels and the mysteries of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. From what I surmise they will be short diversions that may be lots of fun. If time permits I am always game for visiting the Churchill War Rooms one more time. There is so much there that I’m certain I missed a great deal the last time I visited. I also want to spend some time at the markets and chilling out at a pub sipping on a bottle of cider. I’m a one drink wonder so there is no worry that I’ll overdo. I want to walk along the Thames or visit Saville Row and find the building where the Beatles had their last performance on the roof. 

So wish us luck. I am hopeful that we will be able to pull this off without a hitch this time. I’ve learned to plan well but be ready for the unexpected. Somehow that seems to be a big part of life when you reach my age. Watch for pictures and stories if I make it. 

The events of last week have left me in a state of sadness that feels incredibly oppressive. I was not a follower of Charlie Kirk. In fact I knew little about him. I had listened to a few of his speeches and appreciated his charisma and dedication to his beliefs, but I found some of his ideas to be the opposite of my own. Still, I am a believer in our first amendment rights of free speech even as I know that some of what he said was so different from what I believe to be true. He had the same right to speak his mind as I do to write my blogs. When he was killed it felt terribly frightening to me. I thought of the horror of it for his wife and children and in a sense relived the death of my father who died so suddenly and unexpectedly at an age similar to Charlie Kirk. 

My worries about the continuous stream of violence in our nation were made even more dire when there was a rush to judgement regarding who had done the horrific deed. From the very start supporters of Kirk felt certain that monstrous left wing influences had led to the assassination. Even our president said that he was going to find the people and the groups who had done this and hold them accountable. Lots of folks were accusing the left of being monsters intent on destroying our democracy. The airwaves were filled with anger at a perpetrator that they only imagined before any form of proof was forthcoming. Some even insinuated that the shooter must have been the work of a transgender individual because one of the bullets contained a cryptic inscription of arrows facing different ways that appeared to be a code for changing sexes. 

It took time before the shooter was identified. It was the young man’s family who convinced Tyler Robinson to surrender himself and when he finally did all of the stories that a professional shooter from the far left had engineered the hit began to fall apart. Tyler Robinson is a twenty two year old white male who is a resident of Utah. His father is a retired sheriff and his mother works with disabled people. Tyler’s grandmother said that the family has been supportive of Donald Trump and MAGA although the shooter himself had registered as an independent and never voted in any election. 

The story became more and more tragic as we learned more details. Tyler had been an excellent student in high school taking advanced placement classes, getting good grades and earning a large scholarship to college. Those who knew him in high school said that he was shy but that most people liked him and sometimes he seemed like a favorite of the teachers.  

Instead of toning down the wild accusations that a hateful and violent left winger had been been the shooter much of the media still insisted that the young man had somehow become a rogue leftist without any real evidence to support such a thing. The only facts that they should have considered were that after only one semester of college Tyler had dropped out. They were able to report that at the present time he was living in an apartment only a few miles from his parents and was studying to become an electrician. Some of his high school friends mentioned that they had lost contact with Tyler. Gamers recognized him and reported that he was an active gamer who belonged to certain groups who competed with one another playing various video games. Some noted that they communicated with Tyler and he with them as well. 

Some of the gamers began to give meaning to the cryptic messages that the shooter had inscribed on the bullets. They insisted that authorities were going down the wrong path in insisting that they be taken literally. They pointed out that the series of arrows of one of bullets was the sequence on the Helldivers 2 game that designated the order of moves on the controller for dropping a bomb.

Evidently Tyler was not forthcoming even after being arrested but his roommate said that he and Tyler had become romantically involved with each other. Tyler had also told the roommate where to find the gun and had admitted that he had done the deed. There are even some reports that the roommate is transitioning to a female but there is still much to be explained to determine the motive of the young man who pulled the trigger.

I have always felt that there are definite signs when an individual is traveling down a black hole that is leading to violence. In the case of Tyler Robinson it sounds as though there were indeed indications that nobody seemed to see. He was after all a seemingly good boy but behind his facade chaos was brewing. Perhaps the fact of his leaving college so soon might have been the first moment to realize that something might be wrong. Maybe his excessive devotion to gaming while withdrawing more and more from society should have been a warning that he needed some kind of intervention. It’s difficult to influence an adult who is living on his own but his very slow progress toward a career should have been a reason to talk more with him, find out more about what he was doing, get him out of his isolation. Finally those gamers who were witnessing his decent might have told someone before the worst possible thing had happened. I suppose that they felt that Tyler was just going through a phase and telling someone would have been a betrayal. Still, we have to start caring for each other enough to do difficult things to help them when they appear to be foundering. I know how hard that is because I had to intervene with my mother over and over again because of her bipolar disorder. In the end it is worth every effort. 

My heart is still heavy. I don’t know if anything or anyone might have stopped the trajectory of the Tyler Robinson’s life but I suppose that many of us will always wonder about the “what ifs.” So many lives are shattered. So many people will never be the same. Hopefully we learn from this and quit the quibbling and shouting at each other. There are people among us who are vile and there are people among us who are hurting. We would do well to focus on using facts to find both of them before another tragedy unfolds. We do no good when we jump to conclusions before we have studied every single one of the facts. I suspect that we will learn much more when Tyler eventually is tried for his heinous crime. We might to well to wait to hear everything before pointing fingers and turning against certain groups.  

The earth has music for those who listen.

My favorite time of day is in the early morning before the sun rises and the only sounds are the wind or perhaps the pattering of rain on the roof. Now and then the doves who live on our back porch come to life and coo a good morning to the world. As the sun shows its glory on the horizon, lights begin to shine in the windows of my neighbors and an occasional dog that has been sent outside barks to announce his dominion over the neighborhood. 

Before long I hear the doors opening and the loving goodbyes of family members scurrying about to get to work or school or appointments. Car engines start and the drivers head to their daily destinations. Soon children gather on the corner, quiet at first, speaking only in whispers. As more and more of them arrive the chattiness intensifies into excited greetings and rounds of laughter. The school bus announces its arrival around the corner with the squealing of breaks and there is a hubbub of voices as the children scurry inside. Then there is silence again and I feel ready to begin the chores of the day that lie ahead.

There is a lovely pattern of our earth’s rotation that brings different sounds at different times and different places. All of it is music to my ears where even silence has its place. I relax hearing the cadence of my own breathing in and out. I think of how remarkable our human bodies are and how brilliantly the creation of ordinary routines have evolved and moved us forward in our thinking and our behavior toward one another. The sounds of both our sameness and our uniqueness are spiritual evidence of the goodness that comes from working together and honoring each contribution that we humans make to the world. 

We are presently in a period of carping with one another artificially created by politicians who are using our differences and concerns to enrich their own power and sometimes even their wealth. They have made us dissatisfied with each other, even fearful of each other when the truth is that most of the time we are all more alike than we are different no matter from where we have arrived. 

The street on which I live is a microcosm of the United States. We have neighbors whose origins and races are derived from every sort of place and belief. We are a tiny joining of nations, languages, personal points of view and yet we all go to work, send our children to school to learn, do our best to love and care for one another. Some of us are quite traditional white folks who regularly go to church, others are unique and even daring in the life choices they have made. All will come to the aid of others when needs arise. We have ignored the kind of artificial divisions that are fueling so much disdain for those not exactly like ourselves and living in a beautiful state of harmony. We happily and pointedly allow each other to live and let live. Our street is as close to utopia as one might ever experience.

When I leave my street either by way of tuning into the news or driving to another place I learn of the divisions that are being forced on us. I hear friends feeling concerned that they have to be afraid of what they say in their work. I can’t imagine feeling so inhibited in what I do or say. I thought that we left such horrific behavior behind in the years beyond the nineteen sixties when people were still judged by the color of their skin, the places from which they hailed, the languages they spoke, the religious beliefs they held, the decisions regarding their personal sexuality that they had made. We had seemed to be evolving into a kind and gentle nation in which every human was celebrated for his or her or their uniqueness. I loved being part of that kind of country. I felt proud of my fellow citizens but in this moment I hear the sounds of fear and sometimes hate much too often. It makes me want to retreat to my lovely cul-de-sac and hide until this horrific phase of our history is over. 

I know that running to my comfort zone is wrong. I cannot sit back in my own nirvana simply hoping that the horrors beyond my street will go away. If I do that it will only be a matter of time before they seep into the loveliness that I enjoy. I have to speak out now while I still have the ever narrowing freedom to do so and while my country is still mostly intact. The sound of my words and actions much be heard. It is up to me and all of the good people that I know to protect the people of our nation from the poisonous ideas that are sending us back to a time that I do not wish to see again. 

Thus I will do my part as must we all. I will voice my concerns. I will vote for those willing to fight to set things right. I will protest and resist when I see wrong doing. If millions of us add the sounds of our consciences together they will become as beautiful as the music of the earth and the whole world will surely listen.