Category: Commentary

My daddy was not a religious man. Something bad must have happened to him during his early church upbringing because he often warned us to beware of Bible toting self righteous individuals. He was quite supportive of the Catholic faith of my mother and even insisted that me and my brothers be educated in Catholic schools. He said that he liked the quiet non-judgemental nature of the Catholics that he knew as opposed to what he had witnessed all too often in his youth. He would stay at home on Sundays while my mother took the rest of us to mass. He loved God but proclaimed that he had not yet found a place where he seemed to fit in the world of organized religion. Instead he clung to the one commandment that Jesus urged us to follow. He liked the idea of just loving one another but he often pointed out that it was not a simple idea, but rather something that is often much harder to do than most people think. He pointed out that it was way easier to believe that one had all of the answers rather than taking the time to understand differing points of view. 

It sometimes amazes me that my father had such a profound influence on me given that he died when I was only eight years old. Somehow he gave me the precious gift of knowing that our best hope in this life is to educate ourselves, to be wary of embracing simplistic solutions to problems, and to do our best just to love all of the people around us even when they are not anything like us. He warned me at an early age that following his advice would always be difficult because life itself is difficult. From the day of his death forward I realized the truth of what he had taught me. The road between birth and that moment when we take our final breaths is littered with complications, contradiction, and suffering. A loving relationship with God can see us through all of that but we will never have the power of or the right to judge the content of someone else’s heart. It is best that we work on ourselves instead. 

We continue to witness disappointments among religious figures. We learn of priests who used their influence to engage in sexual relationships with minors. We hear of the utter hypocrisy of Jerry Falwell Jr.  The litany of fallen religious leaders is too long to repeat and I suspect that it is so because they became victims of the weaknesses of their humanity. Things that they did and said were indeed egregious but what was often the worst aspect of their behavior was their failure to simply love all people. That is the true evil in our midst and it takes many forms from the horror of murder to the lack of compassion for the suffering. Evil is thinking that we have somehow found all of the answers and that those who disagree are not good or worthy of our consideration. 

We can never fully know anyone. Each of us have secret compartments of our minds that frighten us. Our experiences define us in differing ways just as my brief knowing of my  father  influenced me for the rest of my life. Everything we do, every person that we meet, every joy or sorrow that we endure forms us in unique ways that determine how we view the rest of the world. It would be ridiculous for any of us to assume that there is only one good pathway to take and all the rest are somehow flawed. 

In this high intensity political season we hear a great deal about religion which is rather contrary to the intentions of the Founding Fathers. We were supposed to keep matters of faith separate from our legal system but somehow it has become a kind of centerpiece of late with accusations of who is more Christlike being tossed around like baseballs. This moral concern from politicians and citizens is a red flag for me. I can hear my father telling me to be very careful when prayer and religious judgements are used as political tools. I cringe when someone that I have never even met accuses me of being faithless simply because I express support for a particular political candidate. I worry even more when they tell me to just get out of the country. I see my father’s face in my mind and he is shaking his head and giving me a knowing look that reminds me to be very careful.

Religion should be a personal decision that should never become part of the discussions in the public square. There is no one prayer or faith that should become the dominant  feature of our our governmental landscape. That has been tried often throughout history and it has always had horrific effects. If we want to insert anything about our faith into the calculus of daily life it should be couched in the idea of really trying to abide by the rules of the commandment to love. When we do that we realize that all of the bickering and accusations should have little place in how we work together so that we will each enjoy the benefit of secure lives. If we truly make that separation are no longer arguing over who is the most godly but rather over how to forge cooperation that results in wins for everyone. 

We seem to be a long way from that ideal right now. Both our churches and our government have been hijacked by individuals who have mixed them together into a gooey mess that has made our lives less great and ever more filled with anger and insulting judgements. Separating church from state is the answer but we have let things go so far that it will be as difficult a task as controlling the spread of Covid-19. Our hubris has caused us to lose control and to really muck things up. Just as my father warned pretending to have all the answers is a dangerous game that turns us against one another rather than uniting us in love. When will we learn?

I have to admit that I loved the Covid 19 altered political conventions. Just having to deal with all of the brouhaha for two hours a night was grand. I would love to continue with this precedent forever only I would ask that it be shortened even more to a single two hours on a single evening. I don’t need to see adoring crowds, balloons, confetti, fireworks, banks of American flags or dozens of speeches from everyone and his aunt. It’s somewhat nice when a family member or two makes some comments but I really have no desire to hear from every spouse, child, and girlfriend to get the gist that they actually like the candidate. I only need to hear the national anthem and the pledge of allegiance once. I love it when someone becomes a naturalized citizen of our country but a convention is not the time or place for such a thing nor are presidential pardons. 

I have grown weary of theatrics that have become ever more ridiculous over the years. We spend way too much money on pomp and circumstance that might better be used in schools or to help those being evicted from their homes. Greek columns and expensive designer clothing do nothing to help me understand the stances of the candidates and the party. I suppose that if I had my wish the whole spectacle would become a speech of nomination by someone other than a family member, a few words from the vice presidential candidate and an outline of policy from the presidential candidate. I thrive on the idea of keeping things simple. 

I have never ever liked those events that showcase smiling supporters in the background. If they are intended to impress us I have to say that they don’t. Frankly I think that most of us are attuned to detecting BS when we see it and even the shortened conventions are full of it. The post game quarterbacking is made even worse with so many opportunities to parse every sentence, word, wardrobe selection and choice of music. My attitude is that there is no way that I am going to be influenced by a single event. The candidates are a totality of their lives and their platforms, not carefully crafted shows.

I have not watched the State of the Union addresses for several years now for the same reason that I dislike the political conventions. They have become a lesson in smoke and mirrors, a kind of Wizard of Oz orchestration that not only bores me but makes me angry. I don’t want to see guests meant to pull at my heart strings and suddenly convince me that our president whomever he or she may be is deserving of sainthood. I just want the facts on the state of our country, not a bloviated litany of all of the most wonderful things that the leader has done. It would be rather refreshing to hear someone admit to some mistakes or mention pressing problems that have yet to be addressed. It would be quite nice if the two parties would just listen without clapping every time they hear something they like. Whose idea was it to turn such events into a rally?

I suppose while I am critiquing I will also mention the debates which have become a total farce. Mostly there is a great deal of hot air blowing into our living rooms. I really don’t need to hear questions answered with insults, exaggerations and lies. I think we need to have one and only one debate and it needs to be short and sweet with strict rules that do not allow degradation and disrespect. There should be a series of questions regarding the major issues and it should not be the job of the moderator to inject any commentary whatsoever other than to keep the proceedings moving as they should. The entire program should be over in an hour or less and then the news media should move on without editorial commentary. Reports of the proceedings should simply state the questions and answers of the candidates in full, word for word. 

I know that my ideas represent a big pipe dream but I suspect that there are many who would agree with me. What we need is an honest discussion of major issues. So here are some questions that I would ask:

1. What is your plan for continuing the fight against Covid-19? How will you get it under control?
2. What plans and directives will you implement in future pandemics?
3. What are your ideas for working with the peaceful protestors of the Black Lives Movement while finding ways to reduce the violence that sometimes creeps into their demonstrations?
4. What are your ideas for making our police forces better trained, equitable, just, and supported?
5. Do you have any plans for fair and just immigration reform that allows law abiding people a road to eventual citizenship?
6. How will you deal with problems at our borders?
7. Are you and your party willing to reach across the aisle for the good of the country?
8. How will you maintain the cooperation and respect of the United States with the rest of the world?
9. What do you plan to do to heal our planet from the destructive effects of pollution and other human induced problems?
10. What are your ideas for bringing us together as a nation?

Of course my hopes are just pie in the sky meanderings of my mind, but sometimes it’s fun to just imagine a world that might be. I suspect that many will agree with me.

The first time I met Gerri Washburn she was taking one of her daily walks while pushing her toddler Traci, in a stroller. I was sitting under one of the big shade trees in my front yard watching my own daughters play. I shyly waved at Gerri who had already flashed me an inviting smile. She stopped and welcomed me to the neighborhood so I walked over to introduce myself. My own little girl, Catherine, who was about the same age Traci stood behind me taking in the conversation with great interest. 

Gerri was a vibrant woman with honey colored hair and an inviting countenance punctuated with an ever present smile. There was a warmth and a twinkle in her eyes as she chatted away as though we had been friends forever. I liked her immediately but our two little ones were not so sure that they wanted to be playmates. They eyed each other with suspicion and I wondered if they would ever be comfortable enough to become friends. Gerri on the other hand was certain that if we set a date their natural curiosity would overcome their shyness. With great enthusiasm and reassurance she invited me to come to her home the following day to get the process started. I knew immediately that Gerri was someone who understood how to get things done.

At first neither Traci nor Catherine was willing to make a move toward one another. Not to be dismayed, Gerri sweetly suggested that they go play in Traci’s room. We escorted them to an enchanting haven of color and joy that disarmed both girls enough that they began to explore the toys and games and books that lined the shelves while Gerri and I quietly left them to become acquainted without our watchful stares. I marveled at Gerri’s confidence and wisdom as I soon heard Traci and Catherine laughing and giggling mischievously. 

Gerri was a bit older than I was but she had retained the energy and blissfulness of a younger woman. She had an incredible knack for doing everything exceedingly well. Her home was so beautifully decorated that it might have been featured in a magazine. Nonetheless it had the feel of comfort and warmth that told me that it was a place meant to be enjoyed. I would learn over the years that Gerri’s door was always open to anyone who needed a good laugh or a shoulder on which to cry. She had more devoted friends than anyone I had ever known and I marveled at how she always had time for all of us no matter what else was happening in her life. 

Gerri had grown up in Pasadena, Texas and she was a Texas gal through and through. She picked up lifelong friendships wherever she went starting with her days in elementary school and Sundays at church. She eventually became a teacher which suited her creative and compassionate personality well. Her students would remember her with great fondness even decades after she had retired from the classroom. When I met her she had left the world of education for a time to start a business of her own that became as successful as virtually everything that she attempted to do. She had an infectious way of making anything seem possible. Her motivational skills were so remarkable that I always left her ready to fearlessly take on the world. 

Over time Catherine and Traci became the best of friends and Gerri and I became their two moms. They went back and forth between our houses and we never thought twice if one of them showed up for dinner or stayed for the night. We just set an extra plate without question and smiled at the thought of having so much extra happiness in our homes. 

Before long Catherine and Traci were going to school together. I would watch both of them in the afternoons before Gerri came home from work and in the summers when they were on vacation. Gerri had a swimming pool in her backyard so she gave me a key to her house so that we would have access to it on hot summer days. Her only caveat was that I should never allow the girls to swim alone even though they were as confident as porpoises in the water. Sometimes Gerri’s older daughter, Robin, would join us and I got to know her almost as well as Traci.

At one point we considered moving to a larger home but Gerri talked us out of it and sent her cousin to our house to propose a renovation that would provide us with the extra space that we needed. It turned out to be a beautiful compromise that allowed us all to stay together on what I always thought was the friendliest street in America. Once again Gerri had spun her magic. Somehow she always seemed to know what to do and when to do it. 

Gerri was warm and loving but also sassy and fun. She liked to dance and cut up and laugh with total abandon. It was difficult to feel morose around her because she was an eternal optimist. She was also a warrior who fought for the underdog and the less fortunate. She would not take no for an answer or give up on anyone. Gerri’s house was always a safe place for those in need of a friend.

Gerri suffered from severe arthritis just has her mother had. There were times when she was in such great pain that it was difficult to even move but she rarely complained. Catherine and Traci would make a game of cleaning her house and doting on her the way she had always doted on them whenever she was having difficulty moving her limbs. She made even difficult times somehow seem like fun as she would joke and laugh even as we knew that she was hurting. 

We took Traci camping with us and Gerri took Catherine to Hawaii. She had an unbounded generosity that everyone who knew her experienced in one way or another. When Catherine was getting married she hosted a lovely bridal shower for her and went all out with decorations and food. She seemed to love celebrations and we felt so special when we attended them. In fact, even when she hosted a big party she somehow made each of us who came feel as though we had been the guest of honor. It was just one more of her many many talents. 

Gerri had many serious health issues in the last couple of years in addition to her arthritis but she pushed herself to keep entertaining and traveling. Her heart was as big and wonderful as ever even as she suffered a series of strokes. She clung to the joy of life like a warrior but eventually she had to go to a rehabilitation center. Making the most of her situation as usual she was as delightful as she had ever been. When Covid-19 isolated her we got updates on her health from her two daughters. She was a fighter to the very end, inspiring all of us with her wit and determination to eke every possible drop of happiness out of this life.

The world was a far better place with Gerri Washburn in it. There is a great void in her passing but her silent suffering is over. Heaven has gained another angel who no doubt will watch over us as vigilantly as she did when she was alive. All of us who knew her will miss her. She was unique, one of the true greats. Now her pain is gone and she is smiling with the angels.

We still have several weeks of hurricane season before those of us who live along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico will be able to relax. The annual parade of named storms always lurks in the back of our minds giving us reason to be vigilant from June through October. We have generators stashed in the back corners of our garages just in case and some even have all home generators that operate with natural gas as soon as there is even a blip in the power. We keep lanterns, flashlights and batteries on hand because we know that waiting until the last minute to procure these things might catch us off guard. We have weather apps on our phones and sometimes even store pre-cut sheets of plywood in the rafters to be ready to cover our windows if a storm appears to be barreling our way. 

When a hurricane enters the Gulf its path lies along a cone of uncertainty as it spends days either falling apart or strengthening over warm waters. Meteorologists use an educated method of determining the general line it may follow with caveats that the situation might change at any time. For anyone whose home lies even remotely in the projected pathway it becomes a time for getting ready and determining whether to batten the hatches and hunker down or to secure property and leave for a safe place in which to watch the storm from afar. It is never easy to decide what to do. Waiting too long often makes it too late to safely evacuate. Leaving too soon may end up being unnecessary. There is always a pull and a tug in deciding whether or not the newscasters are spreading unwarranted fear or if their warnings should be heeded. 

Many years ago the citizens of Houston fled from the possibility of hurricane Rita after watching what had happened in New Orleans only weeks before when hurricane Katrina devastated that city. What ensued was a traffic jam of epic proportions that resulted in needless deaths when Rita took a turn to the east and did not even come close to Houston. What few who were part of the mass exodus did not seem to notice is that the towns that were affected by Rita suffered great destruction. We learned from that event that it works best to target specific areas for evacuation based on potential damage rather than moving an entire city of millions of people.

Three years ago when hurricane Harvey was threatening the Houston area most people mocked the local news teams who were describing potentially dire consequences. We went to bed on a Saturday night as the rains began confident that we would get little more than street flooding. Five days later much of the city was under water because of the non stop rain. Homes were flooded from the north to the south, the east to the west because Harvey stalled over land drenching the area without end and creating countless tornadoes that turned the days and nights into a terrifying experience. 

Predictions of exactly where a hurricane will go and what it will do when it finally lands is an inexact science. We can get close but we always have to be prepared for the unexpected. Our best bet is always to take the impending storm seriously, to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. It is one of those times in life when assuming the worst scenario may ultimately save lives. Taking risks with hurricanes is never a good idea and when people do they sometimes die. 

This week we prepared for hurricane Laura in Houston and surrounding areas. Schools that had only begun the new school year on Monday were shut down by Wednesday. There was a flurry of activity as people rushed out to purchase food and supplies. There were warnings that we might go weeks without power and that places like nearby Galveston might have a dangerous life threatening storm surge. Some places issued mandatory evacuation orders and those in low lying areas were nudged to leave voluntarily. As it happened, nothing happened in our part of the world but it created havoc in Louisiana. It is a scenario that raises mixed emotions in my mind because I understand the vagaries of hurricanes and the tendency of humans to underestimate the seriousness of what might have been if there is no resulting disaster. It becomes less likely that people will pay attention the next time which will most certainly come if not this year then some year in the future. 

A hurricane is somewhat like Covid-19 it can be dangerous and deadly but we never quite know exactly how it is going to act. The uncertainty of each situation makes it difficult to get everyone on board with precautions. Those hit by the raging winds of a hurricane or Covid-19 warn of us the horrors while those who never have to experience such things tend to view it all as an inconvenience at best or a hoax at worst. Most of us just want all of such events to go away so we can get on with life. We have only passing patience with natural disasters or pandemics. 

Hurricanes are as much a way of life for those along coastal areas as tornadoes are in the midwest. We watch the weather and heed the warnings and pray that they will not materialize. We know how horrible it is when they do. After nature has randomly damaged our human endeavors we clean up and rebuild hoping that we won’t have to repeat the process again but knowing that we probably will. The only control that we ever really have in life is knowing how to keep ourselves safe and understanding that things are never as valuable as people. Let’s continue to bear that in mind as we face many many challenges and a virus that has yet to loosen its grip on us. Continue to be cautious and to do the things designed to keep us safe even if you never have to experience any of the dangers.

Fall is coming our way. While it may not get cool again until November in my corner of the world I still think of autumn as my favorite time of year. It promises the beginning of the school year, Halloween, Thanksgiving and my birthday, all events that generally bring me great joy. I have a tradition of festooning my home with fall decorations beginning in September. It makes me happy to see the profusion of colors that somehow make my rooms feel so warm and inviting. 

Fall means birthday parties for my husband and five of my grandchildren and election time in this grand democracy of ours. Two of my grandsons are newly minted voters who are registered to cast their ballots of the very first time. They are as excited as I was when I entered a voting booth long ago with a level of idealism that is the mark of the young. I remember believing with all of my innocent heart that my country was on a trajectory to perfection even as it appeared to be falling apart on the day in 1968 when I made my first foray into real citizenship. I had so much faith in my generation of Baby Boomers that I felt that we would be the ones who would finally bring out all of the good in our country where former generations had been unable. I saw my peers and I as the ultimate reformers who would eliminate injustice, create peace on earth and finally achieve a kind of perfection in democracy unlike anything the world had ever seen. 

Of course on that day I had to choose between two elders neither of whom were of my generation. It would take many years before Boomers were even old enough to assume the reins of government. Now the Boomers are in their final years of influence and a younger group of idealists are describing their visions of a new world order just as we did. They have the same impatience and the same feeling that they have somehow found the secret to societal perfection that we once espoused. It is the way of the cycles of life. Just as the fall rolls around each year so too do the youngest adults among us dream of better worlds and developing plans for bringing their ideas to fruition. 

I have become more cautious over time. More realistic. I used to actually believe that humankind is slowly evolving to a closer and and closer approximation of the example that Jesus modeled with his life more than two thousand years ago. I thought that events like the rise of Nazism were anomalies, outliers in an arc of ultimate improvement. While I still hold onto the idea that we humans are indeed becoming better versions of our species I have to admit that we can’t seem to get away from the jealousies that fuel our darker natures and lead to injustice and sometimes even wars. A quick survey of the world demonstrates all too clearly that unkindness and greed still stalk us even as most of us do our best to be more loving and generous. I see that we still struggle with temptations and that our Boomer leaders have been far from achieving the ideals of democracy that once seemed so certain to occur. In other words, we make progress quite slowly just as it has always been. One generation does not appear to be any better or any less than the others that have come before. Our commonality is that we always begin with the untainted enthusiasm of youth.

From one era to another the young have assumed adult life with enthusiasm and revolutionary belief that they have discovered the keys to the betterment of all. Often the older folk laugh at their naiveté and balk at the extreme changes they espouse. They fret that the newly minted adults are still in reality children with ideas that will surely sink the society that has been carefully and meticulously built brick by brick. While we push our young to think for themselves and become responsible we also attempt to pull them back into the versions of adults that we think they should be. Those who meekly ascribe to our ways are lauded as being good and those who dare to question us are deemed unpatriotic radicals. 

It’s an age old repetition of the elders becoming outmoded and the young seizing the new day. Just as fall comes around each year, so too does the changing of the political guard. The “upstarts” voice the hopes of our grandchildren just as the twenty something Alexander Hamilton and James Madison put their mark on the revolution of long ago that no doubt frightened the fifty five percent of the colonists who were not so sure that forming a whole new government was such a good idea. 

Today we witness eager young people with radical ideas that sometimes disturb us but they are nothing out of the ordinary in the grand scheme of things. They see the world from a different point of view because they are considering the future. I won’t be here in fifty years but they will. The world that is evolving will be theirs and we would do well to realize that one way or another they will have a say in how things go. We will leave them a nation different from the one our parents left us. The fact that they are already considering how they want to improve it is a good thing, not something that should frighten us. 

My mother had very few earthly possessions when she died because she believed in giving away pieces of her legacy before she was gone. Her favorite print hangs in my sitting room. She took it from her wall during a visit one day and told me that it was mine if I wanted it. One of my brothers has most of her books that she presented to him volume by volume. I have her china and silver. She liked watching us enjoy and value those things before she was no longer on this earth. She often spoke the parable of the seasons and how it was important to know when to let go of control. She was an exceedingly wise woman.

I  do not and will not insult eager young adults who are willing to speak of their dreams. It is not for me to quash them with stories of reality. They are beginning their journeys and seeing the road ahead while I am thinking more of what my happy ending will be. They are still in the spring of life while I am approaching winter. I genuinely wish them well as they try their hand at making life better just as young people have always done. The seasons will continue to come.