Category: Commentary

“After this year, will we be better able to recognize a pilgrim in the visitor, a seeker in the stranger, a neighbor in the foreigner, and fellow travelers in those who are different? The way in which Jesus encountered and allowed himself to be approached by all people teaches us to value the heart’s secrets, which only he can read.”—Pope Leo XIV, Homily, Solemnity of the Epiphany, Closing of the Holy Door.  

The world has always had problems and yet I have hoped during my lifetime that we humans were slowly but surely evolving in our understanding and concern for each other. I have watched the roles of minorities and women become more and more important during my seventy seven years on this earth. I no longer feel the need to hide my intelligence lest it be misconstrued by men who believe that my place in the grand scheme of things should be to take care of children and cater to the needs of the male half of the population. I have come to know people from many different races and cultures as my brothers and sisters in our journey on the earth. It has felt wonderful to believe that so many human prejudices that were in abundance during my childhood have been set aside for a more inviting view of people with many different faces and beliefs. 

I have never been naive enough to think that we had reached a state of perfection. There is still much to be done, but in general the ugliness that was so ever present when I was young seemed to have melted into the past. The kind of general prejudices and beliefs that were so common when I rode on a segregated bus to downtown Houston as an eight year old appeared to be fading away. Little did I realize that my lack of attention to reality was hiding the anger of those who somehow think that our brave new world is monstrous. They were quietly and persistently advocating for a return to a time before my parents were even born. They longed for a guided age of wealthy white men who were smart enough to rule the the earth and keep the rest of us in our appropriate places. 

I was suppose that I was so giddy about the progress that I observed that I failed to notice the buildup of angry people who felt that women like me were a threat or that my Black neighbors needed to go back to the communities from which they came. I rejoiced that people from around the world were moving into my state and bringing their customs and cultures with them. I embraced them the way that my mother and her family should have been embraced when they were instead victimized with slurs and injured by hurled rocks simply because they were immigrants. I rejoiced in the pilgrims, foreigners and fellow travelers who made my city of Houston one of the most diverse places on earth. I did not notice the whispers from people who instead held a grudge against them. I blithely celebrated what I saw as a steadily growing arc of acceptance for all people, even those who had once been treated as pariahs. 

I suppose that I actually was indeed as naive as many of my friends insist. I was so busy embracing the idea that we would never again return to the horrific times when eugenics and segregation and sexism were commonplace that I did not realize the extent to which an angry group of people were embracing a bully raging in a pulpit of vindictive hatred. I thought that surely everyone would see that the man who is overseeing our democracy for the second time is unfit for the job and enough of a criminal that he should face the consequences of his egregious deeds. It is incomprehensible to me that he has even one supporter for the anger that he fosters like a madman and yet here we are. I have no idea what to do other than to use the tiny voice that I have to spread the warning alarm that must be raised. 

I don’t just suspect, I know that many of the people around me would prefer for me to be silent. They believe that if we just take a deep breath and have some patience this too will pass. They are certain that things will right themselves and we will be able to move forward again without much ado. Sadly I once agreed with them but I see the horrors of what is happening so clearly now that I understand that silence is the enemy. We have to voice our concerns with truth and conviction or the beautiful world that was only beginning to unfold will take decades to repair. 

I suppose that I sound like the little girl crying “wolf” with a puny voice that mostly goes unnoticed. I am an annoyance more than a crusader dedicated to a good cause and yet I read the words of Pope Leo and know in my heart that I have to repeat them and live them or I am no better than the souls who have bought into the lies and anger of our president. Our focus on this earth should always be in leaving it better than it was when we first arrived. Surely we know that the miracle of Jesus lay in his teaching that all people are sacred and worthy of our love. 

I will not be afraid to say what I mean and mean what I say. I can’t go back to pretending to be demure simply because I am a woman. I cannot return to a time when people were judged by physical appearances rather than the content of their hearts. I will speak out for a return to providing every person with the dignity that should automatically be theirs. Mine is a message of hope and a warning that we have so much to lose if we simply look the other way when we see the wrongs that are multiplying by the day. Our voices must overcome the daily roar coming from the White House. We must push back or ironically lose our freedoms in a year that was supposed to be a celebration of our democracy and progress in achieving the ideals of our Founding Fathers. Let us hope that we will not bow to the whims of a man who seems only to be concerned with his own power and wealth much like the kings of old. Let’s take off the blinders now!

In my early years of teaching I made so many mistakes but luckily I was working for incredible principals who gently helped me to learn from my mess-ups before they became disasters. I believed that a set of hard and fast rules would set the right tone in my classroom so I created a poster board filled with considerations of every possible infraction along with the punishments that would be enforced without hesitation. In fact, I spent most of the first day of school explaining the laws of my classroom to the glazed faces of my students. 

It did not take long for me to realize that enforcement of my regulations would be a full time job that all too often interfered with the presentation of lessons that I had worked very hard to create. Luckily before I had totally lost the attention of my students and created a dally riot a visit from the principal set me in the right direction. 

As she left the classroom after an observation she smiled and motioned to me that she had left a note on my desk. As soon as I got the children busy doing some quiet work I read the brief invitation to her office that made me wonder if I was going to hear praise for the interesting lesson that I had given while she was watching. I could hardly wait to hear her feedback.

She was a lovely lady with a true knack for understanding both the students in her school and the teachers that she had hired to guide them. She began our discussion by complimenting the thought that had gone into my lesson and the earnestness with which I had presented it. Then she asked me how it was going with my rules and consequences for bad behavior. She did so in such a way that I did not feel that she was criticizing me. Instead I decided to lean into her experience to guide me in a project of classroom management that was becoming more and more overwhelming with each passing day. 

I admitted that keeping track of all the infractions and then administering the written laws of my classroom was taking more time than I had imagined. I even noted that there were moments when I ended up having to punish one of my better students just to keep things fair. Somehow the whole system felt unwieldy and untenable for an an entire school year. 

Without insulting me or acting as though she had caught me doing something very wrong she then asked me what I thought might help. I honestly admitted that I was unsure of the best way to proceed and asked her if she had any ideas. Only then did she suggest the I retool the whole issue by selecting the five most important rules, writing them up with positive and generalized sentences and then ditching the idea of hard and fast punishments associated with each infraction. She suggested that sometimes there were indeed valid exceptions to rules, reasons that made sense for trying a different way to motivate an individual to do the right thing. 

I spent that evening. rewriting my poster and settling on four major ideas about getting along in a group setting. I used happy colors on the poster and made it appear to be something positive rather than a recitation of sins and penances. The next day I told my students that whenever I do something wrong I like to admit and then rectify my mistakes. I asked them to honestly tell me how they had felt with all of the rigid rules that I had covered on the first day of school. I then introduced my new poster and asked them to comment on the generalized ideas for harmony in our space that would now be the way things would go in our mutual environment. 

They were eager to talk about the new guide for working together in a mutually respectful way. They talked about how much they liked it when every person seemed to care about the needs of everyone else. I recorded their additional suggestions for how to react whenever someone seemed to forget the decorum and needed a nudge to get back to the spirit of getting along together. They smiled and began doing all of the things that I had listed on the first poster without any need for such ideas to be written in stone. Life in our little space instantly became better. 

I never forgot the lesson learned nor how wonderfully my principal had guided me to answering my own questions about my failure to create a classroom atmosphere that worked for everyone. Using her technique I made my students think about why we need rules and how to enforce them. Classroom management became a guide for living in mutual respect and forevermore was only a small part of my duties as a teacher. 

I think that the founders of our nation somewhat understood the power of the right kind of rule making when they embarked on a new kind of government two hundred fifty years ago. Even they understood that their efforts were imperfect but the heart of their Constitution lay in the respect for our differences. They were especially sensitive to the many different religious beliefs that people have and they were determined to protect the right of each of us to follow our own spiritual destiny. They wanted a press that would not be influenced by politicians and a kind of government in which the three branches made certain that no one demagogue would be wielding a cudgel. They gave citizens the right to vote and be part of the process. They never intended for one person be in charge of everything. 

They were indeed wise and it is up to us to be like my wonderful principal and make note when things don’t seem quite right. We are all in this microcosm called the United States together and every voice has the right to be heard and not every rule has to apply exactly the same way in individual situations. Working together with respect and harmony works better than any other method. Hearing the problems voiced is a good thing that always makes us all better. Working for a common cause in which no one group gets all the goodies assures that our freedoms will be equally enjoyed.

My father in law is moving toward his ninety-seventh birthday. Just before Christmas he fell and spent almost two weeks in the Trauma ICU at Memorial Hermann Hospital in Houston, Texas. His injuries and subsequent difficulties seemed almost unreal given the fact that all he had done is fall down in his bathroom. 

He broke his nose and his hand and had tiny fractures in a couple of ribs. The extent of the damage indicated that he was much more frail than he had seemed to be. As the son of a doctor he had taken good care of himself over the years. He exercised each day and took a regimen of eighteen pills recommended and prescribed by his doctors. He was always thin and wiry and never seemed to gain weight like most people so that was also in his favor but he has many different ailments including a slow moving cancer, heart disease, diabetes and essential tremors, as well as a tendency to develop gastrointestinal problems. To keep going well into his nineties he follows the dictates of his doctors like a man obsessed. He does not vary from his regular medical appointments nor does he question the advice that they give him. 

When he was in the hospital with his injuries his body began to react in very scary ways. He developed a thoracic bleed, his kidneys were not fully operating, he was unable to eat and he had difficulty breathing. The doctors in the ICU attacked each of his symptoms quickly and with my father in laws full permission. What initially seemed like the potential end of his days slowly but surely demonstrated the brilliance of the medical community to which he has always been a faithful believer. Ultimately he overcame each and every challenge with the help of the doctors and nurses who doted over him. Now he is working to regain his strength and ability to walk and be independent once again.

I mention all of this not because I believe that he is somehow more blessed with health than others but because the doctors in our country are so advanced in what they are able to do. I have little doubt that if they had only relied on faux medicines and wacky beliefs he would surely have died. Instead they applied their knowledge, skills and medical machinery to bringing him back to a stable state of health. It was science and inventiveness that saved my father in law, not silly ideas that he was a chosen one who got to stay alive rather than someone’s brother or child or neighbor who died in the same moment. 

We have a society in which all of the advances in medicine are being challenged by an untrained man who seems to believe that the very things that kept my father in law alive are actually hurting us. Vaccines are on the chopping block even as we forget how devastating polio was before children regularly received immunizations to prevent this dreadful disease. Few people have heard stories of smallpox like I did from my grandfather who nursed his father and stepmother when they became so ill that “their noses seemed to be in danger of falling off of their faces.” Few people have had measles of late like I did before there was a shot to prevent me from being ill with high fevers for over a week. I could go on and on and on because when I grew up most inoculations were only beginning to become commonplace in reducing the spread of foul diseases. 

Our present government has unfunded many research programs that were designed to save lives. My oncologist niece has told me that advances from such programs have saved lives of cancer patients who might have died only ten years ago. It is shortsighted to attempt to save money by discontinuing the kind of programs that led to the procedures that kept my father in law alive in his recent visit to the hospital. 

On top of all of that most of his doctors and even some of his nurses had come to the United States with special visas which are now being threatened. It is estimated that forty percent of Primary Care Physicians and Oncologists working in the United States have come here with such visas. Now many of them are considering leaving and the new supply of doctors will not make up the deficit. There will be rural areas without doctors as all.

My grandfather always called the present the good old days. He remembered his grandmother trying to help sick people get well with homemade poultices and tonics. While he was proud that they called her Doc Reynolds he also understood how important our advances in medicine had been in saving lives. He never knew his mother because she had died in childbirth. He mourned for an uncle who was his guardian who died from an infection before penicillin had been invented. He believed that the progress being made in science and the way we treated people was glorious because he had witnessed the tragedies the occurred because of ignorance. 

I am lucky to live in a city with one of the biggest centers of medicine in the United States. I have wonderful doctors and know that if I need emergency treatment help will be available. I hope with all of my heart that we do not go backwards in the remarkable progress that we have made in saving lives. It would be foolish to attempt to save money by risking the health of the nation when these should still be the good old days.

I approach the arrest of Maduro in Venezuela with caution and mixed feelings. I am definitely pleased that the people there are freed from this dictator who ruled them with an iron fist. I have heard stories from older people who fled from Venezuela about how lovely the country once was. There are sadly generations of people who live there who have never known such a time. If things go well perhaps they will be able to rebuild their nation and move forward toward the kind of democracy and freedom that so many of the people long to enjoy. 

Sadly I feel a bit uneasy about how difficult it may end up being for the people. Our nation has tried to be the good guy many times over with very little success. My father-in-law still speaks of the horror of the Korean War and the loss of so many people that ended in a stalemate in spite of the seemingly good intentions of the United States. As a teen and young woman I remember how Vietnam became a disastrous quagmire and I sob each time I see the names of the the American soldiers who lost their lives there only to result in the Communist regime of North Vietnam winning the day. I remember when we helped the Iranian people to rid themselves of the corrupt Shah of Iran and ultimately things became worse than ever. I hoped that we might restore the people of Afghanistan to the kind of culture and lives that they once enjoyed but we left there in defeat as well. So too it was in Iraq where the people at first danced in the streets with joy in our decision to militarily oust Saddam Hussein. Little progress was made there in spite of years of spending treasure in lives and money. 

There seems to be no real plan as to what to do next other than Trump’s boast that the United States will be in charge of Venezuela which is not our right. It will be up the Venezuelan people to decide who they want and what type of government best suits them. We might agree to support them but we should not be in charge. We should also not be so eager to get our hands on their oil. Somehow the flimsy plan that Trump is suggesting seems to benefit the United States more than the people of Venezuela. If I were a citizen of Venezuela I would be leery of his ultimate intentions. 

Then there is the question of whether or not Trump’s action was even legal. Is it any more moral that Putin claiming that the leaders of Ukraine are nazis and then invading that country and taking land and natural resources that do not belong to him? If we are really a nation determined to help people around the world who are under the thumb of dictators there are many other leaders to choose. What would we think if some country kidnapped our president in the name of making Americans freer? We need to consider such things as well as the ultimate complications that may arise and only make life worse both for Venezuelans and Americans. That is why such moves have always been determined by a vote from Congress. The Constitution states very clearly that the president does not have the power to invade another country without first conferring with Congress. The reasons for this should be very clear. We do not want one person making such a consequential decision.

I have family members who are refugees from Venezuela and I have felt their pain in being so far removed from their homeland. They have grieved for friends and family that they had to leave behind. They have prayed for a miracle that might free their land. Of course they feel great hope now that Maduro is no longer there but such a thing needed to be done properly and with great consideration of what the repercussions might be for everyone. 

As I write this the son of a friend is stuck in Puerto Rico because the Venezuelan air space has been deemed too dangerous for American airlines. This means that the Puerto Rican people many of whom are also my relatives are no doubt feeling a nervous sense of danger. How many American soldiers will be sent to Venezuela? Will any of them lose their lives? Why are we getting involved there but leaving the people of Ukraine stranded? There are so many questions and very few answers. I can only hope that all works out well but I fear that the turmoil in South America will spread before calm resumes. 

I want to be wrong about my concerns on every level. I don’t want to kill the joy of the Venezuelan people. Still, something does not feel right to me just as it did not feel right when we went to Iraq. I want nothing more than to be able to admit that I my anxiety is silly. I’ll be the first to admit that I am wrong it if all turns out well. In the meantime I have so many questions and concerns.  

Twenty twenty five was a difficult year for me and my family. Somehow it seemed to be in keeping with our tendency to encounter bad luck in odd numbered years. My father died in 1957, my mother had her first breakdown in 1969, my husband, Mike, had a frightening experience with his heart in 2023 and a bout with cancer in 2025. My father-in-law had a fall that left him seriously injured at the end of this year. 

I have to also admit that 2025 has been difficult for me politically. I have been stunned again and again by Trump’s dismantling of our government and his vengeful actions toward those who disagree with him. I have worried about his egregious use of the National Guard and ill trained ICE agents seemingly indiscriminately arresting anyone who appears to be an immigrant. I have cringed at his ugly late night posts about groups that he disdains. I have become increasingly saddened by the gun violence in our nation that seems almost impossible to stem at this point in time. I feel sorrow over the friendships and relationships that have been strained or ended only because people voiced their beliefs and some were unwilling to continue the friendships. 

On the other hand, even in the darkest hours in the worst odd numbered years there was always a ray of hope and such is true of the most recent year that is now relegated to history. I had two grandsons graduate from college and had the good fortune to watch them walk across the stage to receive the diplomas they had earned. In July I limped my way through a fun weekend in New York City with my daughters, granddaughter and a friend who may as well be my daughter. Thanks to the miracle of physical therapy and a dash of cortisone I managed to enjoy the wonders of the Metropolitan Art Museum, two Broadway musicals. the 911 Museum, and stores up and down Fifth Avenue. 

By August my husband rang the bell and was declared cancer free so we quickly planned an October trip to London, Scotland and Paris that created enough memories to last for the rest of my life. Once again a shot of cortisone and a suggestion to consider replacement of my knees in the future kept me walking enough to fully appreciate all that the cities of my journey had to offer. There were no cobblestones or soaring stairs that defeated my efforts at walking with an inflamed knee. I did it all and felt as though I was living the dream of a lifetime. 

My brothers continued to struggle with Parkinson’s Disease but they worked like crazy to keep themselves mobile in spite of setbacks along the way. My worries for them are ever present but at least by Christmas time they were both doing well after some very scary moments during the year. We converged on a Christmas Eve party with our children and their spouses and cour grandchildren with more joy than ever just knowing that somehow we had all made it one more times. The love in the room was like a warm blanket cuddling us with hope for better times ahead. 

My father-in-law somehow lived to pronounce another miracle recovery in his long life. It won’t be many weeks before he is ninety seven years old and living longer than anyone in his family has ever done. He has challenges ahead of him but I know few people who are as persistent as he is when it comes to exercising and eating right and following doctors’ orders. 

There are signs of hopefulness everywhere. I am a classic survivor, an expert at overcoming even the most horrific situations. I have confidence in myself and in the people who have always loved and supported me no mater what was happening. I see the good that is all around us and have little doubt that it will find a way to overcome the evils that always seem to try to pull us down. Winter may be coming in the next few weeks but spring always has a way of coming back around and the days become filled with more and more light. 

I have two more grandchildren who will graduate from college this year. One has already secured a job in New York City and the other is planning to pursue a PhD. in aerospace engineering. Yet another grandson will earn a Masters degree in Accounting and begin testing for his designation as a Certified Public Accountant. My other grandchildren will hopefully find joy and peace and success in their endeavors as well. 

I am happy to welcome 2026, when I will get a brand new knee to replace the one that makes me limp. My wish for everyone is that life will be filled with health, opportunities, fun adventures and most of all love. Isn’t it wonderful how we get a clean start over and over again?