Category: Commentary

I was born in the Heights in Houston Texas in the long ago when the place was more of a town than a metroplex of six million people. Save for a stint when my father was finishing his degree at Texas A&M College and a few months in California, I have spent my life living south of downtown Houston. I now reside in Pearland, a suburb about twenty minutes away from the famous Texas Medical Center. I love my home, my neighbors and so much about this wonderful place, but I continue to worry about its fate as climate change creates more and more dangerous weather events for the area. 

I can recall every hurricane that came through since I was born. Each summer I more carefully follow the weather reports lest a big storm be coming our way. In all my years I can’t recall a hurricane coming to our area as early as the one that made a direct hit on us this past week. Most of the time those kind of storms don’t bother us until August or September. The fact that this one came at the beginning of July has me worried that it might not be the last one to hit us this season. It feels as though such events are becoming more and more common, not just around here but all over the United States and the world. If it’s not a hurricane it will be a flood or a wildfire or a monstrous tornado. 

I worries me that we are still doing so little to quell the pace of increasing temperatures and natural disasters. We become harried in the moment and then seem to simply drop back into all of our old routines and habits without thinking about the effect we are having on our planet. I know that when I write about such things I am mostly ignored and possibly even thought of as a kind of Chicken Little squawking with unnecessary anxiety about the future. Still my more than seven decades in the same area have shown me the dramatic changes in the weather while I have seen very few efforts to address the issues with scientific measures. 

I have to admit to being somewhat late to the discussion of climate change. I remember a discussion that I had with a fellow teacher whose area of expertise was science. She warned me about what she believed was coming to our world and why it would be happening, but like so many I mostly laughed at her sense of urgency once she was no longer in my presence. She sounded a bit neurotic to me and I chose to believe that the worst effects of climate change would not occur until I was long gone. I now admit that she was right and I was wrong. 

My grandchildren have been telling me for several years now that our planet is in trouble. They have literally studied the issue of climate change so well that they are predicting things before they even happen. I find their accuracy to be incredible and so I am more and more attuned to what they have to say. One of them is literally surveying the best places and methods to employ for survival in the future. He predicts a great and unstoppable migration as different parts of the earth become uninhabitable. He does not believe this will happen in my lifetime but he feels that his generation may live to see its effects in all aspect of life. 

My mother smoked until she was in her forties. She mostly ignored the suggestions that tobacco was bad for her health until it was no longer possible to smoke in public buildings. Then she got the message and snuffed out the last cigarette. She lived another forty years but died from lung cancer that her doctors feel certain came from her habit of inhaling nicotine for so long. She was always happy that neither me nor my brothers ever became addicted but also understood that even our exposure to her smoke might ultimately have a negative impact on our health. 

We are at a watershed moment in terms of saving our planet just as my mother once was. She gave herself a few more years than she might otherwise have had if she had continued smoking but the damage was already deadly. I would like to think that we have not reached that point with regard to climate change but the evidence that we have done ourselves in with our over use of fossil fuels is frightening. We should have listened to people like my science teacher colleague years ago and we would no doubt be in a position of more normal climate events rather than the strange ones that are ruining people’s lives all over the world. The seasonal cycles seem to be coming earlier and earlier and the effects are more and more brutal. 

My maiden name is Little. Perhaps it is just that I am the voice urging people to begin today, not tomorrow. The time is now to do more than ever before to make a difference in how we care for the earth and for each other. We have to find ways to protect our planet on a daily basis. We must be willing to sacrifice and work together. Our present ways are not sustainable. For the sake of our future descendants let us earnestly begin.  

One of the most fascinating episodes of the biopic of John Adams demonstrated how Abigail Adams vaccinated her children with the live smallpox virus. I had never realized that people understood how to use the virus itself as a preventative. I remembered my own childhood vaccination against smallpox. It was a nasty affair during which I had to wear a plastic shield on the shoulder where I had been jabbed. Over time a sore appeared that I suppose was similar to those I would have had if I had somehow contracted that disease. Eventually the sore healed and I was left for a time with a round scar on my left shoulder. My mother explained that if I had actually contracted the disease I might have ended up with such scars all over my body, even my face. I felt relieved that my mother had taken the time to get me vaccinated against that once dreaded disease. 

By the time my children were born vaccines had literally eliminated smallpox from the face of the earth. Nobody needed the vaccine anymore because the virus itself had died out due to the massive worldwide vaccination of people on every continent. I felt a sense of wonder that I had been among the last group of children watching that crusty sore grow underneath the plastic shield that I wore on my arm. 

I learned the true extent of such a miracle from my grandfather who described an outbreak of smallpox in his town. His descriptions were so vivid that they made me shudder as I remembered how icky that sore on my arm had been. Grandpa spoke of his father’s face being so infected with pus ridden sores that it looked as though he would surely die. Even the town doctor essentially told my grandfather who was just a teen at the time to prepare for the worst outcome. Miraculously my great grandfather eventually recovered but the marks of his illness were indelibly left on his face, his arms and his chest. Somehow my own minor experience with the smallpox vaccine helped me to imagine the true horror of contracting that often fatal disease and I was quite happy that my mother and millions of mothers on the earth had helped to wipe out the horrific illness with those shots.

I was also one of the first group of youngsters to take part in the historical vaccination effort to protect people from polio. I knew all about the disease. There was a little boy at my school who walked with crutches and iron braces on his legs. Mama explained to me that he had polio. So too did the father of one of the boys that I knew from our church. My mother even told me the story of President Franklin Roosevelt and his polio when I was only five years old. She would often chide me if I ran barefooted through water standing against the curb in front of our home, telling me that I might get polio that way. I could see that she was very worried about my welfare so it did not surprise me at all when she signed me up to get some of the very first polio vaccines.

Six year old me was terrified as I stood in line waiting for my turn but I soon learned that the jab was not so bad, a good turn of events because I needed more than one dose. I remember how happy my mother was when I had completed the cycle of shots and how she would follow up those with vaccines for other diseases as well. I became almost professional at taking those pricks without even flinching even though I silent said a prayer or two each time the needle got near my skin. Best of all I did not end up like the girl who lived down the street whose polio was so bad that she spent most of her days breathing inside an iron lung. 

There were no vaccines for measles or mumps or chickenpox when I was a child so I caught every single one of those things. The chickenpox were annoying but the mumps really hurt. I can still recall how hard it was to swallow. I did okay with those illnesses but the measles did a number on me. I was sick for over a week and at times my fever was so high that I thought I was going to die. I was eight years old by then and my imagination was vivid. Little did I know that measles can sometimes be quite devastating to some people. I remember my mother checking me constantly with a worried look on her face. She would not let my brothers near me because she did not want them to contract the illness. That was one of the clues that old me that measles were way more serious than I had thought. 

When my daughters came along I gladly gave them all the usual vaccines plus a few more that had been developed over time. I must have missed giving them the chicken pox vaccine or maybe it wasn’t even available then because they each had an irritating and itchy round. By then smallpox did not even exist on the earth thanks to vaccines so my girls never experienced that crusty scab followed by a scar. I never had to worry that they might contract polio or any number of terrible things. it was a good feeling to protect them and it made me think of my mother who purchased no luxuries but always made sure that we got our proper vaccines no matter what they cost. 

I think of these things today because there seems to be such a backlash against vaccines that I frankly do not understand. Maybe it is because so many young mothers have never seen or even heard about the horrors of diseases that once changed or even ended lives so dramatically. The vaccine movement has been so successful that they did not have a neighbor in an iron lung or men at church in wheelchairs. They did not see or hear about people being permanently disfigured by smallpox or spend a week fighting a battle against measles. Surely if they had experienced such things they would be as eager to take advantage of the modern methods for avoiding horrific diseases as my mother had been for me and my brothers. 

I understand the concerns and even the right to freedom of choice but I would challenge everyone to do some research before turning away from the life changing vaccines that are more and more often being rejected for reasons that have not been proven to be facts. As more and more choose to walk away from vaccines the herd immunity that they have created will wane and we may once again see devastating illnesses plaguing our children. As someone who witnessed both testimony and the actual illness I can say that we should think about the risk of to take chances that might result in terrible illnesses. It’s a matter of caring about each other just as my mother did with me and my brothers. I will always be grateful to her for protecting me. My hope is that we can protect each other as well.

When my eldest daughter was at the University of Texas she sent me a CD that featured the singer, Celine Dion. I had never heard of the performer before that moment but I instantly fell in love with her and played the CD over and over again. From about 1990 forward I closely followed Celine’s meteoric career and found myself enjoying any song that she performed. 

I had often considered traveling to Las Vegas for the sole purpose of seeing Celine in person but I somehow never got there, nor was I able to see her when she toured. Nonetheless I considered her to be one of the most incredible singers I had ever heard. She had a range and a sensitivity for delivering lyrics that was magical. I imagined that I would still have time to one day witness one of her performances. Little did I know that Celine was harboring a secret that was terrifying her. 

It seems that Celine Dion was noticing troubling things about her voice and even her body, particularly after a performance. She began to experience spasms in her limbs and her voice would sometimes be uncharacteristically raspy. She took Valium to calm the skittishness of her body, often more than once during a live show. Even as she understood that drugging herself to hide the pain, she kept doing what made her fell alive. As her pain became more and more unbearable she had to begin cancelling performances using excuses like having a sinus infection or a virus of some kind. Eventually her symptoms became so severe that she had to pull the plug on singing altogether. 

It seems that Celine Dion had been diagnosed with Stiff Person Syndrome or SDS, a rare autoimmune disease that affects one or two people in a million. It is a neurological disorder that cause spasms of the limbs and even of the lungs. As her illness progressed, Celine was unable to sing as she once had. She often experiences debilitating events during which she is unable to control the horrific symptoms of her disorder. These days she is mostly homebound, fighting to become strong enough to return to the occupation that she believes defines her very existence. 

Recently I watched a documentary on Amazon Prime called I Am Celine Dion. It was admittedly difficult to watch because Celine did not attempt to sugar coat her experience with SPS. In fact she was quite honest about how difficult her journey has been and how much singing is part of who she has always been. She misses the excitement of the crowd and the exuberance of hitting the right notes. She has been passionate about singing since she was a child and she does not mince words about how tragic losing her gifted talent has been for her. 

During the filming Celine goes into a terrifying spasm that contorts every part of her body while her blood pressure fluctuates to the point of danger. Seeing her contorted face and limbs which in those moments brought me to tears. I viscerally felt her pain. I recently experience spasms in my back that were so strong that I felt as though I was literally going to fall to the ground. In the worst moments just moving from one position to another was excruciating. I cannot imagine enduring this kind of thing in the hands, feet, limbs, back and even in the very act of breathing on a regular basis. It has to be frightening and debilitating for Celine and those who love her. 

Celine Dion feels her loss in every fiber of her being. The gift of a magnificent her voice has been cruelly taken away from her. For me it would be like being unable to see so that I can read, and write and teach. We each find our talents if we are lucky and having them struck down without warning is perhaps the cruelest irony anyone might endure. For such a thing to happen to a person who is as extraordinary as Celine is a nightmare. Nonetheless she seems determined to return to performing one day even if she has to crawl back to the stage. 

Celine sang a song with her new condition and quite obviously her voice has changed considerably, but she still sounded beautiful. I can imagine her changing the way she sings like Frank Sinatra eventually did as he grew older. She might sit on a stool or a chair with only a spotlight while she croons in a raspy but still stunning voice. It would be different, but I believe that her fans would cheer her on and love her as much as always. We all like stories of courage and hers is certainly one for the ages. 

I’ll be thinking of Celine Dion from here on out. I’ll be cheering her hopeful progress. She deserves to be able to use the beautiful gift that is her voice. For now she has proven to once again be an inspiration with her humility and honesty about how she feels. There are surely others who are suffering who will find hope in her message. I know that she has had a deep affect on me. 

In the documentary Celine Dion attempts to consider who she is. She admits that singing has always represented her very soul. Perhaps she will learn that she is doing as much for the world by revealing her difficult journey as when she sang like an angel. I certainly wish her well and I hope that her heart will go on.

A few weeks ago I read a newspaper article about a series of seven student suicides at a small private college in Massachusetts. The tragedies took place in the 2021/2022 academic year when the world was still coping with the pandemic. Before that year the school had only witnessed two student suicides over the course of its history which dates back to the nineteenth century. Suddenly the faculty and students were overwhelmed with the fear of wondering which student might next choose to take his or her life. 

The administrators and professors at the school created a task force designed to determine how to deal with the shocking situation. Their analytical skills were used to determine what factors were leading to the unusual outbreak of student suicide that was rocking the very foundations of the institute. 

Professor Jean King, Dean of Arts and Sciences and a professor of Biology noted that “stress becomes toxic and resilience becomes harder when the stressor is random.” If we humans are in a constant state of uncertainty about the world and our personal lives it can become difficult to maintain a sense of balance and mental health. When we add the element of isolation and loneliness to the mix as was often the case during the many months when Covid dominated the world, the pain becomes so unbearable that people sometimes lost hope. Why suicide became almost infectious at the college is still unknown but with great effort the faculty eventually stemmed the tide of death by working hard to take notice of every student with whom they had contact. 

I fully understand the concept of dealing with random stressors. At the dawn of 2020 I was feeling optimistic even as I worried about the health and well being of family members in the back of my mind. My husband and I had planned a trip to Scotland in May. Two of my grandsons were set to graduate from high school. I was able to plan for the coming joys and still be alert to the needs of individuals in my family and circle of friends who were dealing with consequential difficulties. I had a false sense of being in control that was about to be shattered. 

For a time I navigated the weeks and then months of wearing masks and mostly staying at home with a kind of self congratulation. I adapted to grocery pick-ups and then Instacart to keep my contact with others at a minimum. I knew that I would have to be in direct contact with my ninety something father-in-law and his wife. I did not want to be careless and bring the virus to them, especially before they had been vaccinated. I learned how to deliver my math lessons by Zoom and even “visit” with my family and friends. I made of game of the situation even as I watched braver friends continuing to get together in person. My sacrifice of staying at home was a source of both pride and sorrow as I missed the weddings of two of my nephews and seemed to drift more and more out of touch with people who had always been so important to me. While they moved on, I was faithful to my pledge to stay virus free so that I might nurture those who were in grave danger if they caught Covid. 

I was ecstatic when the danger finally seemed to evaporate. I was determined to rejoin society with gusto but nothing was like it had once been. So many of my friends and relatives had moved on from me. They assumed that I would continue to turn down invitations and so few were forthcoming. Even my attempts to create events tended to fall through. The world felt so strange to me. At times it seemed as though I was walking through my new life only as an observer without any real human contact other than with my husband and my children. 

Just when things began to feel somewhat normal again my world went into a state of random chaos. Two of the aunts whom I had not seen since the beginning of the pandemic died. It was devastating not to be able to say goodbye to them. A favorite cousin died as well. My father-in-law was rushed into emergency surgery on the day that his wife died and then caught Covid and almost joined her in heaven. He came to recuperate in our home and has lived here ever since. A cousin suddenly developed dementia and died within months. My husband almost died after a routine heart procedure. My sister-in-law endured a serious injury while on a cruise that has threatened to take her sight. I injured my foot and ankle just before Christmas and had to hobble around with a medical boot. 

Suddenly I understood the concept of random stressors. As long as I felt a sense of control over my life I managed to adapt like a pro. I remained optimistic even as the whole world was pounded with suffering and death. When my hopes of a happy ending to the pandemic were dashed one by one a sense of aloneness in dealing with my challenges momentarily overwhelmed me. I literally panicked and began to feel as though my challenges would never end. 

I did a lot of crying and self pitying for a time until I literally witnessed people with far greater problems than my own. I was able to pull myself back from the edge of despair. Nonetheless I fully understand how much more significant stress can be when it feels random and even unfair. Just when I was about to reenter the world with a grand flourish it felt as though an invisible hand had pulled me back into a state of uncertainty. 

I know that I will be fine. I’m willing to talk about my anxieties and work on dealing with them in constructive ways. I fully understand that even on my worst days my woes are minuscule compared to others that I know and some that I witness from far away. I’ll be signing up to talk with a counselor and I will share my worries with people who seem to understand me. Ultimately I will be fine. I’m a survivor from long ago. I’ll learn how to let some things go.

Still I suspect that there are people among us who are feeling as though their lives are somehow worthless. They have been crushed by the world and don’t know how to free themselves. We would do well to notice them and attempt to help them find reasons to continue with us on this rollercoaster journey. They may be reaching out without our notice. They may be trying to hang on by a thread. Look for them. Let them know that you care. 

The faculty at the college in Massachusetts actively worked to save their students from suicide. The deaths stopped. The sun rose again. There is energy and optimism on campus that exists because everyone made it a priority. We can’t stop the randomness of stress but we can adjust how we deal with it both in our own lives and in the lives of others. Life is messy and sometimes we need to step over the garbage and just give someone else a hug.

My Uncle Jack was a tall thin handsome man with an infectious smile. He called everyone “honey” in the true sense of affection for them. I loved being around him especially after my father died. He had a way of making me feel as though he would take care of our little family and that we need not worry about anything. Uncle Jack was addicted to watching westerns and along the way he made me a fan of stories about the folks who moved west from the crowded eastern cities in search of a better way of life. 

The fact is that searching for a place to call home is at the foundation of the human experience. Ever since people decided to settle down rather than staying on the move there have been folks who sought the ownership of property. Unfortunately this very instinct for planting roots has also been the cause of conflict and even wars to this very day. In many ways the ideal of owning property is the theme of history. Some have use the earth’s land by freely moving with the flora, fauna and seasons. Others have erected fences and held deeds as proof of ownership. It would be difficult to decide who has the best claim original ownership because that concept has different meanings for different groups and cultures.

By the time of the Civil War in the United States much of the land in the east had already been claimed. Intrepid pioneers who struggled in the cities were lured by advertisements to head west into unknown and rugged territory. They heeded the call of the unknown with dreams of building new lives in the wide open spaces. The journey was treacherous and when the people arrived at their destinations there were few if any conveniences and many barriers to achieving the goals that they had. At the same time the land had already been the province of the native people who roamed and hunted freely with an extraordinary regard for the preservation of the natural world and their ways of life. Seeing foreigners building structures and putting up fences blocking the way to water and animals that served as a source of food for the native people was bound to create troubles, and indeed it did. 

Kevin Costner has written, produced and directed an ambitious film project that attempts to address the complex saga of the westward movement. Horizon: An American Saga is planned to be a series of epic films telling the complicated and often controversial stories of individuals searching for the common hope of finding a home. It is an often brutal tale of hardship and death that takes no sides, but instead describes the differing beliefs and assumptions of all parties involved in the epic struggles. It has all the emotions of love, honor, jealousy and greed. In many ways it is an American Game of Thrones with countless characters, imperfect heroes and villains that are difficult to view as all bad. 

It is a lush movie with incredible scenery and great acting set against a complicated tale that moves the story so quickly that time passes in the blink of an eye and leaves the viewer anxious to see more. In fact the next edition of the series of movies will be available in August and after that perhaps there will be two more. It is an ambitious project that Kevin Costner is determined to complete, often with his own money. 

My husband and I went to see Horizon on July 4. There were only about eight other people in the huge theater which was disappointing because moviegoers were flocking to see rather inane fare that is little more than a rehash of previous films. I am actually quite stunned that this movie is not packing in audiences each day much like Oppenheimer and Barbie did last year. It is a wonderful film that has received standing ovations at different festivals were it competed for recognition. Somehow the grand old western does not seem to be as popular as it once was. Instead audiences want super heroes, cartoon characters and scary stories. While those things are fine, Horizon is a work of art, a film that will survive the passage of time unless it is totally shunned by viewers. 

By the end of the film I wanted more and I’m happy to know that Part II will be coming along quickly before I need a review to remember all of the wonderful characters. I suppose that perhaps the world is in such a state of uncertainty these days that viewers don’t want reality or history. My guess is that total escape just feels better. At the same time I’d hate to think that a great movie like this one will go up in financial flames because we just don’t feel like being serious right now. I would encourage people to give the movie a try. I truly believe that most individuals will be pleasantly surprised at how good this film is. 

It may be that this movie gave me the same warm feelings that I always had watching those old westerns with my Uncle Jack. Maybe I’m just feeling nostalgic about a time when I wasn’t as worried about what will happen in the real world from one day to the next. I got the good feels with this film. Whatever the reason I urge you to go see the movie before everyone gives up on it and deems it a dud. The loss for the public would be so regrettable. I truly believe that in the long arc of time Horizon: An American Saga will be discovered and revered as the great movie that it is destined to be.