Category: Commentary

Sometimes I tell people that I am not very lucky, but when I think about it, I realize that there have been times when I have won the jackpot. I’m a romantic at heart, someone who always believed that somewhere in the world the perfect person was searching for me. I worried that I might never encounter the man of my dreams, but I was hopeful. Somehow I literally stumbled on to meeting that person without any idea of how much my life was going to change. 

I did not even want to attend the party where it all happened. I was interested in someone else at the time, even though I don’t think that the feeling was mutual. I was hoping that somehow I might find a way to make the attraction go both ways, and the invitation to a birthday celebration was an interruption of my plans. My mom convinced me of my duty to family, and so it was with great reluctance that I fulfilled that role. 

The whole affair was rather dull for the greater part of the evening. I had already met most of those in attendance, and they felt like brothers rather than prospects for a relationship other than friendship. Without warning a new young man entered stylishly late, and I was almost immediately smitten even though he appeared to be more interested in my cousin. I felt almost giddy talking with him and later chided myself for acting like a school girl. I was both surprised and delighted when he called me later to ask me out on a date. It felt as though the heavens were acting in concert.

The date was even more wonderful than I had expected it to be. The two of us became inseparable from that time forward. I had never before felt so comfortable with being myself as when I was with him. We were two people who were totally in sync. We liked the same music, and enjoyed the same kind of conversations and activities. Soon he was pronouncing his love for me and I for him. He christened our romance with a lovely gold charm bracelet with a heart shaped charm on which he had engraved the date on which we met with the words, “Now and Forever.”

That promise is as strong as ever after fifty two years of marriage. We have had great fun together and weathered terrible storms. The comfort that we provide each other never changes. He is my best friend, my confidante, my rock. I sometimes pinch myself when I realize the tremendous odds of finding “the one” who was meant to be for me. I am forever grateful for that birthday party, and I shudder to think that I might have missed it if not for my mother. 

I received a challenge to write the first couple of stanzas of a love song that describes my love, so herewith is my lame attempt at becoming a lyricist. I call my song, “Now and Forever”

I dreamed of you before we met.

I knew you in my heart.

You came to me without warning,

And I sensed my life was set.

You are “the One”

You are “the One”

My “Now and Forever” 

You are “the One.”

We shared some fun.

We shared our dreams.

And the the heavens seemed to know 

Our heats would be as one.

You are “the One”

You are “the One”

My “Now and Forever”

You are “the One”

Challenge completed…but I think I’ll stick to writing prose. 

I was always creating bucket lists when I was young. I managed to accomplish many of my dreams over the years. Now that I am older, such lists look very different than in the past. Of course, I still have longings to visit various places around the world, but more than anything my wish list tends to focus more on the future of my children and grandchildren, and the world that my generation will leave to them. Always the optimist, I’d like to believe that we will address the many issues that threaten our planet with a determination to create a better world. 

I spent the last years of my teaching career working at KIPP Houston High School, a public charter school with distinctive philosophies about how to do things. We often took our students on trips, and we reminded them of their duty to leave each place that we visited better than it had been when we first came. A journey to New Orleans after hurricane Katrina involved working inside a damaged school. A visit to a park meant bringing trash bags and gloves to send crews of students to pick up trash. We attempted to inculcate a philosophy of sharing and caring into the lifestyles of our kids. We believed that teaching them to honor the world was as important as providing them with knowledge. We put the mantra, “Work hard, Be nice.” into action. 

I suppose that I was as affected by my time at KIPP as I hope the students were. I began to think beyond my own self interests in a more demanding way. My bucket list began to focus more on solving problems than listing fun activities that I wanted to enjoy. Since the pandemic I have begun to simplify my life more and more. I find myself enjoying quiet, simple gatherings of my favorite people instead of expensive outings. My needs have shrunk, and I am more at ease with myself than ever. Somehow the months of isolation and concern about the health of the people of the world has helped me to understand and appreciate what is really important. Thus, my new bucket list appears to be more of an action plan or political/spiritual agenda than it might once have been. It is less and less about what I want for me, and more and more about my hopes for the future. 

• I believe it is long past the time for every one of us to help contribute to the health of the planet. I’ve adjusted my thermostat so that my air conditioner and heater run less often than they once did. I keep making deliberate changes to habits that I had developed in ignorance. I spend time learning how to be more conscious of my own sins against the planet. I focus on leaving things better than they have been for a very long time. As I make sacrifices, I find that it is not that difficult to be more mindful of my own actions. I am more supportive of efforts to rethink the way we do things. I’m an old dog willing to attempt to learn new tricks because I believe that it is something that we all must do if we are to survive as people.
• I have long been a perfectionist, and as such I bristle at the thought of making terrible mistakes. I prefer compliments to critiques, but I have learned that there are times when we have to look truth squarely in the face. For too long we have ignored injustices by asserting our individual anecdotal experiences with minorities, the poor, immigrants, the LGBT community. We seem to believe that if we have been kind, then surely there is no real problem. We do not want to be reminded that there is still must work to be done to ensure equal and fair treatment for everyone. We hide inside our little bubbles refusing to consider the cries of those who insist that there are still grave difficulties for entire swathes of people. My hope is that we will begin to take our responsibilities to one another more seriously than ever before. Simply denying that there is are problems because we are personally good, is not a legitimate answer. We have to be willing to hear the experiences of people who have suffered without closing our ears or turning our gazes. Then we have to actually do something about the problems that exist without making excuses or worrying that our own privileges might change. 
• It’s time that we all accept the old adage that no human is an island. Sharing our knowledge, our resources and our freedoms should not be a political game. Instead it should be a natural way of living. Every person on this earth is as important as I am. It is only by sheer luck that I ended up being born in a land of plenty and freedom with loving parents. I had incredible opportunities from the moment that I breathed my first breath. Even though I was beset with challenges and had to work hard, I have lived a gloriously secure life compared to so many of my fellow humans. I believe that those who have more are duty bound to share more, and not just the dregs of leftovers. It should be our goal to uplift as many others as possible, not just with financial support, but also by providing decent and affordable places to live, education, healthcare. We have to address suffering selflessly and with gratitude for our own good fortune. 

I suppose that my bucket list appears to be the mad ravings of an idealist, but I am certain that we have the power to make such things happen, if only we have the will. Sometimes we humans need a nudge to take action. Surely the universe is shaking us with great force right now. I choose not to ignore it’s warnings, for if I do, it may be very dark for my loved ones after I am gone. It’s time to face reality, and join in the efforts to repair and reconcile. It’s something that I no longer just imagine, but strive to make a reality no matter how difficult it may be. 

Each semester for many years now my husband and I have taken a course from the Rice University Glasscock School of Continuing Education. The offerings are are always exceptional, and, if I had endless funds, I would sign up for multiple classes during each session. Instead I focus on one topic at a time, generally choosing history over anything else. One of the the conclusions that I have reached is that while we humans have generally progressed in knowledge and technology, our natures remain somewhat the same. Throughout history people have tended to engage in recurring cycles of enlightenment followed by prohibition. It is as though we desire to evolve as societies, but also fear going too far in changing our ways. Much of the push and pull in the story of humankind has a discernible pattern. When we study our ancestors, we begin to realize that there is a tension caused by our conflicting beliefs in what constitutes a better world. This continual tug of war is a source of misunderstanding, conflict and even war. 

In following the long threads of my family tree, I learned that the paternal side of my family traces its roots back to the Norsemen of old. Eventually my people found their way to Normandy and then to England. I am distantly related to Norman kings and later to Oliver Cromwell’s family, something that made me proudful until I learned more about those ancient relations in the history classes that I took. In particular, I realized that Oliver Cromwell may have advocated for freedoms, but only on his own terms. He was in fact consumed with a religious fervor that had little room for beliefs contrary to his own. He had a bad habit of sending his followers to formerly Catholic churches to destroy any icons of the Catholic faith. Freedom for him was far more restrictive than would be comfortable to me. 

So it is in my own country of the United States of America today. We are a government founded on a revolution, but tempered by a tendency to change slowly. We speak often of our freedoms, which are many, but fill our law books with limits to what we allow the citizenry to do. The progressives are more often than not at odds with the conservatives, and while there is supposed to be a separation of church and state, religion has often insinuated itself into our democratic processes. While I am a firm believer in our democratic republic, I have learned too much about its weaknesses over time to but my head in the sand when it comes to our history. As with all societies, ours has been ordered by humans, which by definition means that there are imperfections. Good intentions are often mixed with flawed philosophies and beliefs. That is why I contend that it is always important to have a hearty mixture of voices in our politics, rather than a group of people walking in lockstep. We members of the electorate should applaud the disparate voices rather than condemning those who question thinking and suggest alternatives. 

There are certain facts of history that demonstrate truths. We know that Thomas Jefferson’s brilliant mind helped to create a government with the potential to bring freedom more uniformly to people of all persuasions. We also know that when he spoke of certain unalienable rights, they did not apply to everyone at that time. His freedoms were limited to white males, excluding women and most notably, slaves. There is nothing innately wrong with critiquing Jefferson by praising his foundational principles while also noting his exceedingly contradictory flaws. Dissecting the truth, is not a sign of disloyalty to our country, but rather a healthy way of discussing the complexities of humans that create both good and bad situations in the same breath. 

We can see very clearly that allowing slavery to exist side by side with our remarkable freedoms was intrinsically wrong, and ultimately a huge mistake that led to a civil war, and continues to haunt our society to this very day. Remaining ignorant of the horrific things that came before us does little to help us to create a pathway to a better. It is in viewing the missteps of the past that we have a greater chance of improving. It is not hateful to admit that those who came before us committed transgressions. It is simply a recitation of facts from which we might learn. 

If I had the occasion to send a message in a bottle, it would be to encourage all people everywhere to temper their tendencies to adhere to a single way of thinking. It is only in opening our minds, exploring and learning from the past, and hearing the concerns of others that we will ever create a truly inclusive society. When fifty of our senators walk and think in tandem, we are in trouble. When we refuse the process of give and take in favor of doing nothing to preserve an ironclad wall of political beliefs, we are in trouble. If we do not break down the tribalism that has tainted all of history in favor of embracing our diversity, the conflicts and the wars will continue. Human suffering will be alive and well, just as it has been for centuries. 

We should be encouraging all people everywhere to join in a quest for knowledge and truth. History should not be left only for those interested enough to do the research. It is healthy and beneficial to learn how human frailties and missteps led to horrific situations that need not have occurred had societies understood how to watch for problems. Courage and patriotism are most evident when John McCain gives a thumbs down or Liz Cheney voices her beliefs or Bernie Saunders challenges us to consider new ways of thinking. We all benefit most when truth is allowed to flourish and diversity of thought is encouraged. 

Do not be afraid to parse the past. Learn and understand just how complex we humans are. See the patterns. Share the facts. It is an exercise in democracy in it finest form.  

It was long ago when I was a freshman in high school, that I received a standardized multiple choice test that appeared to have the answers on the last page of the booklet. I did not notice this quirk at first but once I got to the the last few questions, I saw the numbers that corresponded to the test, and next to each numeral was a letter. When I compared the first ten or so to my own answers, I saw that they were the same. That’s when I became a bit nervous, thinking that perhaps the real test was to determine if we were willing to cheat. I quickly put hid the last page from view, and finished my answers without changing any of them from what I had determined to be correct based on my own knowledge. 

I suppose that the simplest thing to do would have been to ask the teacher if the answer page was supposed to be included with the test, but I was still adjusting to high school life and since nobody else seemed to be rushing forward to inform our instructor, just ignored the answers and turned in my own work. Still, I worried a bit that it would be impossible for the teacher to know whether or not I had been honest. 

Eventually the teacher somehow figured out what had happened. He never revealed whether or not someone had alerted him, but he announced that there were a few too many perfect scores to be valid. He had investigated and found the answer page which he should have removed before giving the test. He laughed it off, and then gave us another test. He later told me that he gave me my original grade because I had missed enough questions that it became obvious that I had not cheated. He added a bonus of ten points to thank me for my noble gesture. 

I’ve never really understood people who cheat. I suppose my mom instilled a spirit of honesty into me from an early age. Only once did I take something that did not belong to me, and I felt so much guilt that I returned it with interest, and confessed that sin many times over just to be sure that I was actually forgiven. I see our role on this earth as being one of sharing and caring. There is little need for such fierce competition that cheating becomes an option. I suppose that some would view me as a chump, but I prefer knowing that anything I have accomplished has been done so without guile. 

I suppose that nothing disappoints me more than learning that someone or some group that I have admired has cheated. I would rather lose than become a champion by illicit means. What is really the point of gaining glory if it has only been done with a lie? Still, I hear people boasting about hiding income to reduce taxes, or using someone’s work as their own. I am a firm proponent of honor, and of late we are too often in short supply of that commodity. 

As an educator I want to know what prompts an individual to cheat. I suspect that sometimes it comes from fear of failure or intense pressure to succeed. I’ve had students whose parents demanded such high grades from them that they ultimately found ways to game the system by cheating. I’ve known individuals who were willing to lie to find a pathway to economic success. Somehow I can’t understand how there can be a feeling of satisfaction from such actions. I wonder if people somehow begin to convince themselves that winning rather than hard won accomplishment is the actual goal of life. 

I’ve always told my children and my students that we have rules because, unfortunately, some people will otherwise take advantage of various situations. We are seeing so much of that right now. If someone does not wish to receive a vaccination for Covid, that should be their choice. I cringe, however, when they take advantage of relaxed rulings that allow vaccinated citizens to go places without masks by pretending to be among those who have taken the shots. They do not seem to realize that they are endangering themselves and others when they flaunt the requests of businesses that they stay masked up. They view their actions as asserting freedom. I see it as a form of cheating. 

Little lies too often lead to bigger lies. Cheating becomes a bad habit, particularly when it appears easy to do so without being caught. We too often forget that somebody invariably gets hurt by dishonesty. Nobody who uses devious means to achieve something is ever really a winner, even if they never get caught. 

Trust is the foundation of society. When that is gone or in question it destroys relationships, businesses and lives. Honesty is the mark of the true winner. There is no greater reward than being someone on whom people implicitly rely for truth. Perhaps this is something that we do not spend enough time teaching our children through our own examples. They are watching. Hopefully they will not see us lie. 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. A great photo captures a moment in time in such a way that it becomes an icon, a representation of an era. The best photographs are classics that never become outdated. Capturing such a moment with a camera requires artistry, or at least a great deal of luck. Some people have an eye for snapping the camera at just the right moment to provide a timeless portrait of a person, a scene or an event. A great photo causes us to pause and think and ask questions. It needs no explanations to portray a split second in time. 

I have many favorite pictures. Some are quite personal. Others are works of art. All tell a story. I’ve always been in awe of antique photographs that managed to record either the horror or the glory of a particular occasion or period. I love the joy of the Times Square picture of the sailor kissing the nurse at the end of World War II. I am touched by the desperation in the weathered face of a mother in the iconic photo of people moving during the days of the dust bowl and the Great Depression. I am moved to tears by the horrific image of the little Vietnamese girl running naked through a street of Vietnam with her napalm burned skin slipping from her body. I have bleak memories when I see the stark black and white image of Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald.  I smile when I think of Marilyn Monroe standing over a sidewalk duct with her white dress lifting in a circle around her beautiful essence. 

I have a photograph in my kitchen that I purchased at an art show presented by students from a school where I once worked. It is one of my all time favorite photos because it encapsulate so much wonder. It features a group of young children raising their arms and looking upward with glee. The creator of the magnificent image was Martin Hernandez who told me that he saw the children reacting to a runaway balloon that had slipped from their hands, and floated into the heavens. With the eye of a true artist, he quickly snapped a picture, and then wisely cropped it to show only the children with their outstretched arms. 

Martin went on to attend the Bauer School of Business at the University of Houston but his days of artistry were not over. He became a professional photographer, combining his skill with a camera with his expertise in business. He creates one amazing picture after another with an eye for detail and finding the soul of his subjects. 

Most amateur photographs look the same. People stand in a row and smile for the camera. There is always someone looking a bit off because it is so difficult to snap an image at exactly the right moment. There is an unnatural discomfort about the vast majority of photos, but now again magic happens. I have a few of those in my collection of family, friends and travels. Perhaps my all time favorite shows my grandmother Minnie Bell feeding and tending her chickens. She almost comes to life in that still photo taken on her farm. 

Another image that I have always loved is of my mother and father at a college ring ceremony in a time when they were so young and in love. They stand in their formal glory under a gigantic replica of a Texas A&M University Aggie ring. It encapsulates so much about them and the hopefulness that they must have experienced in that moment when their lives together were only beginning. 

I have a picture of my grandmother Mary that I also treasure. She is sitting on her front porch with me on her lap and I can almost feel the calmness that was her trademark. Two photos that feature my grandfathers also seem to have captured the spirit of the men that they were. Grandpa Ulrich stands straight and tall in a decidedly early twentieth century suit staring emotionlessly but proudly into the camera like the founder of his domain. Grandpa Little is seated on a bench on the occasion of his one hundredth birthday, looking dapper with his brand new suit and his hat tilted jauntily on his head. 

I prefer photos of people, but my husband invariably focuses on scenery. I can never tell when his photographs of our travels were taken because they do not have the stamp of time that people provide. He has captured some incredible views, but I wonder if anyone else will want them when we are gone. The real treasures are the pictures that help us to understand the people who are important to us or the images that capture history. 

I’m not particularly photogenic, so I tend to avoid having my photograph taken. I don’t have many photos of myself past the time when my mother recorded my history as a child. I’ve yet to find an image of myself that I really like. Cameras do not love me. Perhaps one day I will get my sister-in-law, Katie, to attempt to find the magic in me that she so deftly finds in others. Maybe I’ll ask Martin to try his hand at making me look natural rather than self-conscious. I’d like to think that one day my children and grandchildren will have a remembrance of me that is a wonderful as the photos that I have of my own parents and grandparents. Those treasures are priceless.