The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

backlit-clouds-dusk-853168On any given day the headlines of any publication include the good, the bad and the ugly. That trend pretty much sums up the nature of humanity and history itself. As people it’s actually easier to find the good among and about us, but more often than not we focus on the bad or the ugly. I suppose that is because horrific things are actually more unusual than generosity and compassion. We are fascinated with the bad and the ugly even as we abhor such occurrences. 

I scan the headlines each morning as I eat my breakfast. Last week the front page announced the bad news that a six figure income just over one hundred thousand dollars a year in San Francisco qualifies a family to be considered low income and possibly in need of government assistance to provide the basics of food and shelter in that city. It was shocking to realize that such a fine sum of money is insufficient in a town where the median price of a home is over a million dollars. It is a beautiful city that has become almost inaccessible to anyone but the very wealthy. In fact, it suffers from one of the most tragic homeless problems in the nation, and residents complain that the plight of individuals with no place to go is growing exponentially. I find myself wondering how it is so that a city that prides itself in being advanced in so many ways has become more and more segregated by economics.

Yet another quite ugly story from out of California told of an elderly man from Mexico who was severely beaten by a woman in Los Angeles who shouted that he should go back from where he came as she pummeled him with a brick. It’s more than difficult for me to imagine how someone might possibly become angry enough to inflict suchg harm on a stranger. Had she taken the time to determine his story she would have found that he was simply visiting his very legal family as he has done countless times. His vacation turned into a needless nightmare because someone jumped to conclusions that weren’t even accurate. Even if he had been attempting to come to this country without proper paperwork, the violence that he endured was terribly wrong. I suspect that it would not even have warranted mention in the newspaper were it not so unusual, but I worry that there is a kind of growing contagion that encourages more and more people to demonstrate their prejudices with this form of extreme ugliness.

We certainly do in fact have very real problems, and of late we don’t appear to be inclined to work together to solve them, but sometimes something quite extraordinary happens and we see the goodness of our better natures in all of its glory. Thus it was with the rescue to the soccer team and coach from Thailand. For many days the entire world seemed to be holding its collective breath and praying in unison for the young men trapped inside a cave in a very dangerous situation. Help came from around the globe, and models of courage and sacrifice kept people from far corners holding their breaths in the hope that all would turn out right. In the end the entire crew was rescued in a daring operation that sadly took the life of one man who perished while helping with the endeavor.

There was no preening here. No requests for glory or paybacks. The faces of the those who worked tirelessly mostly remain anonymous. They had a cause that was gloriously important and nothing else seemed to matter. People worked together to solve a grave problem and succeeded just as mankind always has whenever people have been willing to set aside differences for a common good. When the entire group was finally safe we all heaved a collective sigh of relief and shed tears of genuine joy. We realized in that moment how incredible we humans are when we use our potential for something good. The rescue represented the best of who we are as people, and it felt so wonderful to experience such pure elation without the recriminations or critiques that split us apart more often than we desire.

I just wish that we would think of all that is happening to us on any given day and emphasize the truly good things that take place, relegating the bad and the ugly to the back pages where they belong. We give far too much attention to evil and violence, and not nearly enough to our grand accomplishments. We need not ignore problems, but we would do well to put them into perspective. Most of the time the truly ugly stories are judged to be so because they are indeed the exception rather than the rule. The bad ones generally mean that we need to put our heads together to find solutions. The good ones show us just how much capacity we have to create a better world for everyone.

I remain a cockeyed optimist because I truly believe that when all is said and done we time and again grow weary of the bad and the ugly and decide that it’s time to do what we know to be right. It’s just too bad that we don’t hear a bit more about such instances because every single day there are wondrous and heroic actions taking place. Even now someone is saving the life of another human being. Somewhere a great new discovery is taking place. Children are learning the foundations of a just society in many corners of our world. Some person is quietly helping another. Such unsung acts of goodness are the true nature of the world. Sometimes we actually get to know about them and it feels fabulous.   

The Sound of Love

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She was a big baby, nine pounds two and one half ounces. Her mama weighed only one hundred pounds so the nurses thought she belonged to the other woman in the semi-private hospital room. There was laughter and unmitigated pride that the child was so beautiful and healthy save for a broken clavicle that resulted during the final moments of birth. The little one wore a sling and the doctor assured the young mother that the girl would heal in a week or two which is exactly what happened.

She was a happy child who loved to sing and dance and run outside in the grass, but she always seemed to have a runny nose and ear infections. There were many visits to the pediatrician who soothed the mother with assurances that such things were normal for a little one. Still the worries increased when the tiny girl stopped singing and had uncharacteristic bouts of frustration and anger. The fevers and ear infections continued and on many long nights the mother held her child close to ease the pain that her baby was experiencing. Each time they visited the doctor he chided the mom for worrying so much, and even hinted that she was being neurotic with her concerns.

Time passed. The toddler years were gone and in a blink it was time for the child to go to school. She was terrified and clung to her mother with all of her might. The kindergarten teacher suggested that the girl was a bit slow and unsocial. She recommended counseling and perhaps even testing for special education. The mother did not know what to do. She knew that her little one was very bright, but exceedingly shy and quiet. The defiant mom insisted that they wait and see how things worked out once the child had adjusted to the demands of school. After all, it had been a tumultuous time for the whole family with deaths of loved ones and a string of serious illnesses that afflicted both parents. Somehow the mother believed that things would ultimately work out for the better.

First grade came for the little girl. She had a sweet and observant teacher who took great pains to get to know each of her students. The educator noticed that the child was carefully watching the lips of anyone who spoke. Her level of concentration for this task was intense. The thoughtful educator had an idea, and sent her student to the school nurse for a hearing test. Just as she had expected the results indicated a forty percent hearing loss. The child was not slow, quite the contrary. She was having to learn with an extreme handicap and still doing very well.

When the mother got the news about her beautiful little girl she cried. Everything suddenly made sense, the times when the child was surly, the frustrating moments when the girl appeared to be ignoring her, the sudden end of the singing. That beautiful baby could not hear.

A visit to a specialist supported the findings of the school nurse. The good news was that the condition was being caused by a build up of fluid in the ear canal. The doctor assured the mother that with a bit of surgery, the insertion of tubes and the removal of the tonsils and adenoids the child would soon be hearing quite well. A date was set for the procedures.

The mom’s heart beat quickly as she walked beside her daughter’s hospital bed that was being wheeled into the operating room. The wait for news felt like an eternity, but in a time much shorter than it seemed the prognosis was wonderful. All had gone well. The child’s future would be so much brighter.

As the mother and father drove their little girl home they were stunned by what happened next. The child’s eyes widened and she gasped while putting her hands near her ears. “What is that?” she exclaimed. “What is all that noise?”

The parents realized that their child was hearing normally for the first time in a very long time. They smiled and cried at the same time. They understood at that moment just how difficult it had been for their baby to navigate in a world full of voices that she could not hear.

Life did indeed change for the little girl. She proved to be an outstanding student, a bright girl who would achieve many great things. She began to sing and dance again and enjoy the sounds of the world that make life so much more pleasurable. The mother would always feel a special gratitude for the teacher who had so lovingly advocated for the little one rather than judging her to be slow and awkward. That educator had changed a life in a very special way.

The girl grew up, earned a college degree from a prestigious university, married and had a great big family of her own. She still had problems now again with her hearing, especially in big crowds or when listening on a phone. The wonderful world of texting has been a boon for her and she has learned to cope with the moments when she doesn’t quite catch what is being said. She still loves music as much as she did when she was barely walking when she would move her tiny feet to the beat while attempting to hum along. Thanks to her first grade teacher her life was enriched in a multitude of ways. Everyone knows that she is bright and capable and accomplished.

Today is that child’s birthday. Her name is Maryellen and she is my baby all grown up. I will be eternally grateful to the wonderful woman who took the time to unravel the paradox of Maryellen’s behavior. Today Maryellen is the incredible woman that she was meant to be. But for the intervention of her teacher things might have been very different. Because of that woman we were all able to hear the sound of love.

I wish Maryellen a very happy birthday on this morning, remembering what a beautiful infant she was, and feeling so thankful for the amazing woman she has become.

The Wedding of a Die Hard Democrat and a Die Hard Republican

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One of my cousins recently posted a commentary about his parents that made me smile. He remarked that one of his folks was a die hard Democrat and the other was a die hard Republican. They used to joke that when they went to vote they canceled each other out. Mostly though they were good people who taught their son to be tolerant and to love his country. He served proudly in the military and learned how to be a  good person in his own right by following their example. He wonders, however, what has changed to cause so much derision, division and incivility today. He wants to know why it is increasingly difficult for people with differing philosophies to get along.

His post got me to thinking about my own parents. In all honesty I don’t really know what political persuasions they had. I only recall my father arguing about a political topic on one occasion and that was with his father. Since I was only privy to the noise of their voices rather than the actual debate I will never really know who advocated what position. It was not any easier to discern what my mother’s thinking might have been. She was an enigma when it came to voting and such. She often told me that she considered Franklin D. Roosevelt to be the greatest of all the American presidents, insisting that he had saved the nation in more ways than one. She broke into tears when remembering how she had once seen him when he visited Houston. She always spoke glowingly of Harry Truman and John Kennedy as well, but on the other hand, she felt almost as much allegiance to Ronald Reagan as to Roosevelt. In all honesty I can’t think of many times that she even spoke of politics or her feelings about them. To her a vote was a sacred and private thing between her and God. She didn’t discuss her leanings nor did she find it necessary to know about those of anyone else. Her only commentary was that it was glorious to have such a right, even if the elections didn’t always go her way.

Mama was from an immigrant family that was not always treated in the most welcoming way. She told us that her father insisted that in spite of a few prejudices here and there the USA was still preferable to the land that he had left. He insisted that his children take full advantage of the opportunities of being citizens and in turn pay forward the favor by demonstrating their pride in being Americans. When my mom and her siblings were taunted as being foreigners, their father urged them to just ignore the slights. He taught them that there are ignorant folk everywhere, and they need not nurse their anger. Instead he wanted them to become educated and fully involved in the culture and ways of the country. All eight of his children were patriotic, and his sons confirmed their love for the USA by enlisting in the Armed Forces and serving during World War II.

I suspect that my mom would be both confused and amused by the craziness on display these days, but she would have also insisted that everyone has a right to voice their opinions if they so choose. She would often tell us how important that cornerstone of democracy was to her father and ultimately to her and her siblings as well. It was something all too often denied in their homeland of Slovakia, so they were quick to welcome all ideas.

What would have most baffled my mother is the way that so many people are now determining friendships based on political beliefs. She would have first noted that it is none of anyone’s business to judge others, especially with regard to their political beliefs. She would have also wondered why we are talking about such things so openly and so much. Mostly she would have been utterly appalled at the idea of friendships and relationships being based on how people feel about particular hot button topics. I suppose that she had the same high level of tolerance as her older brother who was so fittingly described by his son in the Facebook post.

I often muse that the media is too much with us. There was a time when there was a news hour around dinner time. Thirty minutes were devoted to national events, and thirty to local happenings. Most stories merited only two to three minutes of discussion, rather than the twenty four hour blathering on and on that is possible today. Something has to fill those hours and unfortunately there is a great deal of sensationalism used to attract our attention. We have become news junkies and can’t even escape the grasp of the drama when we are away from our televisions. Our phones and computers constantly alert us to the latest breaking story. There is little or no rest and after a time we become so emotionally involved that we can’t seem to turn off the feelings that send us into emotional frenzies. It sometimes appears as though we are puppets being manipulated by some unseen master.

The reality is that we don’t really need to see every single kook who does something outrageous. The truth is that on any given day most people are busy going about their lives. They are not sitting at home plotting ways to make other’s miserable. They are not evil or uncaring or hoping to undermine the government. Most people are just trying to get by and get along. They do their duty as mothers, fathers, friends, employees, and citizens. They appraise the issues and make choices, and unless they do something illegal or hurt us in some way, it really should not matter to us what their political philosophies may be. Instead we should be focusing on what kind of people they are and admitting that if it actually is possible for a die hard Democrat and a die hard Republican to have a beautiful and loving marriage then maybe we also need to try harder to get along. 

Being Kind To The Unkind

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The real test is being kind to unkind people.

I saw this quote on a friend’s Facebook wall and it spoke to me. I believe that it is difficult for any of us to demonstrate courtesy and compassion to someone who is unlikeable in the way in which they treat others. As I considered the idea of being kind to unkind people I thought of a man who lived near my family when I was about six or seven years old. His house was across the street from ours, situated on the corner of the block. The location was such that people constantly passed in front of his home which he meticulously kept in a lovely state. He was particularly proud of his grass which adorned his lawn like a thick green carpet. He was continually fertilizing, trimming, and watering. It appeared to be more than just a hobby. It was an obsession, and his efforts paid off because there was no yard as beautiful as his.

There were many children who lived nearby. Virtually every residence was filled with boisterous and happy kids, but the man had only his wife. For reasons that seemed strange to me they had no offspring, and so the man focused hours and hours of attention on his gardening. Because he was unaccustomed to the habits of youngsters he seemed almost afraid of us as we ran up and down laughing and being a bit louder than we probably should have been. He glared at us whenever we passed his way, and woe be unto us if we took the liberty of trodding on his grass. He would howl dire warnings, yelling and screaming that we should never again desecrate his yard with our dirty feet. We received his message with a combination of fear and loathing, thinking him to be a vile creature. We literally hated him, but were also so scared that we took to walking in the street to get past his place rather than tempting the fates by staying on the sidewalk.

I remember complaining to my mother one day, vowing that my friends and I would find a way to show him what it felt like to be treated so badly. I spoke of our loathing for our neighbor, feeling totally justified in my assessment of the situation. My mom listened patiently and then suggested that perhaps the man had reasons for his behavior that we did not know. She urged me not to be unkind but rather to simply be respectful of his wishes, and to be as friendly and kind as I might have been had he been more pleasant.

It was a difficult assignment and I was unable to convince my friends to join me in overlooking the angry threats that he had hurled at us. I was on my own and it was admittedly a frightening place to be, but I slowly began to be neighborly each time I saw the surly guy. I would wave, smile and shout a hello. I would gingerly walk along the sidewalk making it very clear that I was doing my best to be careful. When he was working on the landscaping I complimented his efforts and told him how nice it felt to live across from such a beautiful expanse. Once I even offered to help, knowing that I would no doubt be turned down.

As time passed the man’s demeanor began to change. He would exchange greetings with me and ask me how I was doing. He began to bring vegetables from his backyard garden to our home when he would talk with my mother and tell her how lovely it was to watch the children in the neighborhood having so much fun. He revealed that he and his wife had been unable to have children, but had always hoped that a miracle would bring a child to them. He had been sad and angry that their prayers had been denied, and he had thrown his energies into creating a kind of garden of eden to make his wife happy.

I learned at that very young age that those who are unkind often have become so because of circumstances that overwhelm them. We never really know what someone is experiencing when they are mean and hateful. While their actions may be aimed at us, they are often symptomatic of some deep seated pain that they don’t know how to heal. They are angry at the world, and maybe even themselves. As their tempers increase, so too does their isolation become ever more intense. They create a vicious cycle that leaves them unloved and lonely. When those around them pay back their surliness with compassion, sometimes they begin to change.

Our society is enduring an era of meanness. We seem to equate anger with toughness. As with a playground brawl we have people trying to outdo one another with insults and even threats. There are those who answer what they see as injustice with rudeness and suggestions of violence. None of those things will do much more than raise the level of heated argument. It is only when we stay calm and offer peaceful resolutions to problems that we stand a chance of making positive changes.

Being kind to unkind people is very hard indeed. Our instinct is to follow the dictates of “an eye for an eye.” We would prefer turning our backs on such people, avoiding them at all cost. It is only when we at least attempt to follow our better natures that we can feel assured that we have done the right thing. If our efforts are spurned, or if the person only becomes worse we most certainly should simply walk away. Never, however, is it right to join in the fray. We only demean ourselves when we go down into the gutter with unpleasant people.

I’m genuinely hoping and praying that the current tendencies toward street fighting among rivals will be a phase that has soon passed. It does little to solve problems and we certainly have our share of those. We can pat ourselves on the back for spending most of our days being kind to people who return the favor, but we should be especially proud whenever we are able to be caring to someone who has been disagreeable to us. We never change minds or personalities with viciousness. That only leads to schisms and sometimes even wars. Our best bet is to smile and reach out a hand of understanding and warmth. Most people will respond and we may learn something new and important in the process.

Another Ding, Another Scratch

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I saw a woman on television laughing about a dent in her car and philosophically shaking off her concern by exclaiming, “Another ding, another scratch, just another chapter in the story.” I had to laugh along with her because in truth she had summed up life quite brilliantly with that little utterance. It seems as though each of us carries dents and scars on both our bodies and our minds that ultimately contribute to becoming the persons who we are. In spite of our own efforts to take control of things, we are continually blindsided by accidents of nature and disappointments from relationships. As we travel through our individual stories we experience collisions with diseases and toxic people, along with all of the regular intersections and interactions that bring the wear and tear that is a normal part of being human.

Some of the things that happen to us are quite natural. As children we may skin our knees or break a bone or two. We form friendships and experience disappointments. We learn and dream and if we are truly lucky we get through our childhoods without too many traumas or losses and work on embracing adulthood. We search for loving friends and partners and attempt to fulfill the dreams and goals that push us to become better each day. We may choose wrong and have to rethink our plans or accept that someone that we loved has betrayed us or simply grown weary of us. If we are lucky our troubles are average, and our health is good so that we make it to our so-called golden years of retirement. We grow older and feel the aging of our bodies a bit more. We must say goodbye to departed friends and look a bit less toward the future and more at finding contentment in each day. Eventually every single one of us reaches an ending, and if we are lucky we will be able to look back on what we have accomplished and the relationships that we have fostered with a sense of contentment and maybe even a bit of pride.

The truth is that living is a bit more complex than that. We are faced with challenges at times that feel almost unbearable. It becomes difficult to write them off as just another ding or scratch. We feel as though our collision with some horrific force has totaled us out, reduced us to heaps of junk. Unless we are extraordinarily lucky each of us has faced a moment in which we might even ask God where He is because we feel so alone in our pain and suffering. I have had my own share of troubles that threatened to overwhelm me, events so terrible that they rendered me almost useless for a time. In those moments I had to rely heavily on faith, hope and love wherever I was able to find it. I was always humbled in learning who my most loyal angels were, because often they were not the people to whom I had given the biggest chunks of my heart, but instead unexpected souls who miraculously came to my aide. Of course there were also a handful of people so reliable that I was able to call on them time and again to rescue me from many difficult situations.

I recently watched a movie called Hostiles. I had not heard of it before, but it had a good cast with Christian Bale and Rosamund Pike, as well as a very decent Rotten Tomatoes rating. It is a western and thanks to my Uncle Jack I grew up loving those kinds of stories. This one reminded me a bit of the old John Wayne movie The Searchers, but with a more modern and philosophical twist. While there was plenty of adventure, the tale was mainly about people caught up in the kind of accident of life that transforms them and provides them with the answers that they have needed. It speaks to the idea that sometimes in our most tragic times we find the faith, hope and love for which we have been searching.

An event can be so unnerving that it causes us to reassess everything that we have believed about ourselves and the people around us. It rips us apart and threatens to destroy us, but we somehow find what we need to repair ourselves and come out whole again. The process of fixing our very souls can be gut wrenchingly painful and lonely. We may not even want to continue down the road because the darkness does not allow us to see what lies ahead. We may cry out and hear no response, lie down and wish it all to be over. That is when we somehow find the tiniest bit of encouragement as though the hand of God Himself is reaching down to rescue us.

We humans are fragile creatures who are nonetheless stronger than we realize. For centuries we have endured the dings and scratches and wrecks that mar our journeys, but also provide us with the character that makes our stories more real. Still there are those among us whose suffering is so intense that they cannot repair themselves alone. They need someone to help them to restore the faith and hope that they require to continue into the future. Love is the panacea that they seek. We need to be aware of them and be the person who gently demonstrates the compassion for which they have been searching.

We all have a ding here, a scratch there, and sometimes a big gaping hole. Some of our injuries are of our own making, but most come from out of nowhere like a speeding Mack truck driven by a drunken driver. We endure collisions that test us more than we believe that we are capable of handling. That is when we often feel the most alone, but in truth there is always someone who will miraculously help if only we allow them to hear our cries. As humans we have two duties. One is to humble ourselves just enough to ask for assistance, and another is to be ready to provide aide whenever someone calls. If we follow these guidelines we are less likely to wind up forgotten and alone in the junkyard of life. We have the power to rewrite our stories and those of the people around us. When we embrace our dings and scratches they take on a lovely patina that brings out the true beauty of life.