Why I Love Men

man and boy standing on bridge
Photo by Agung Pandit Wiguna on Pexels.com

A professor from Northeastern University recently wrote an opinion piece for the New York Times entitled Why I Hate Men. It was a kind of screed outlining all of the worst traits of the male half of the population and lamenting the unfair inequality of women. The author argued that it was time for all women to begin telling the truth about the horrific treatment that they have historically been forced to endure so that much needed changes might be made. She furthermore insisted that all of us who proclaim our support for feminism stop making excuses for the males who have, according to her, held us down.

I found myself feeling increasingly uneasy as I read her arguments and wanting to debate so many of her points. Mostly I wondered what had happened to her that had made her so angry. I suspect that if truth were ever told she would have a heartbreaking story in her past that had to do with abusive treatment from a man. Otherwise I can’t imagine why she would bear such a grudge against an entire group of humans.

First of all, I was always taught that the best way of living was to learn from the past, put it behind, and then look to the future. All of this dredging up of horrific acts committed by ancestors from another time reminds me of those folks who run around in hair shirts and have whips to beat themselves as penance just for having human frailties. I’ve always found such guilt trips to be nonproductive. To quote a feminist who recently ran for President of the United States, “At this point what difference does it make?” What was done was done. Now move on with resolve to do better.

Additionally, indicting the entire other half of society is akin to those times in school when the teacher punished the entire class for something that only a handful of students actually did. I recall with great disgust the times when I was subjected to a group detention or harangue and then told by the teacher that she knew that I had not been involved. I always thought that if that was the case, then why didn’t she leave me out of the indignity of the affair? It is not just bad psychology to use such methods, it also bad science. We all understand that we are a collection of individuals, each of whom differs from one another. While we might have similar traits, it is unlikely that we will all behave in the exact same manner simply because of gender.

It is true that there have been some very bad men in the world, and there are still far too many to this very day. There are men who are violent with women. There are men who are truly sexist in their thinking. There are men who are unfair to women. At the same time every one of us know men who are kind, loving, and eager to help everyone to be his/her very best.

I frustrate my husband from time to time, but in close to fifty years of living with him he has been mostly patient and loving with me. He has encouraged me to pursue my dreams more than any other person I have ever known. He is proud of my accomplishments and does not feel the need to be competitive with me or to somehow outshine me.

Is he an exception to the rule? I think not. I can name hundreds of wonderful men like him just from my own small circle of family, friends and acquaintances. In fact I would argue that the oafs and mysoginists are more the exception than the rule. We are horrified by their behavior because it is so unlike most of the men that we know.

Certainly we need to do a better job of protecting women from anyone who would do them harm. We must take firm measures to send the message that acts of abuse are not ever to be tolerated. We might also work harder to narrow the gaps between men and women in their careers. We have already achieved a great sense of progress in sending more women to college than men, but we must be careful that those same women do not emerge with their degrees intent on wreaking vengeance on the males.

I have six grandsons who are true gentlemen. They have learned how to treat all people from both their mothers and their fathers. They have terrific role models in that regard. I would be crushed if I thought that they were going to be hated even before someone knew the essence of their character. It would worry me if I thought that they were going to be denied possibilities simply because they are male. The way to reach true equality is not to take away from one group to give to another. That just creates yet another lopsided situation. The best way to even the playing field is to provide everyone with the education and the training that will ensure that their talents will be utilized to the fullest extent.

I am who I am and where I am today because of a huge cast of both men and women who loved me, taught me, mentored me and pushed me to be the person I wished to be. There was nothing in the equations of my life that was marked with a preponderance of male domination. Both sides were kept equal by people who supported me. I encountered a few men who attempted to use their masculinity to side track me, but other men (and women) always helped me to move right past them.

I have to say in all truth that I love men because I know all too well that they are an important part of our world. We need them and they need us. Together we make a great team. I will continue to fight for more opportunities for women, but I refuse to hate men as a weapon for achieving that goal.

 

Stop the Insanity

advertisements batch blur business
Photo by brotiN biswaS on Pexels.com

I no longer watch CNN or Fox News. In spite of claims to the contrary both cable news stations report events with a definite bias. The big three of CBS, NBC and ABC do a bit better, but all too often even their storylines seems to march in tandem. I find the BBC to be far more interesting and informative than any of our national news services because they are not as obsessed with influencing American politics. I read from a number of news sources and rarely find one that simply provides facts without editorial comments. Journalism today is not like it was when I once dreamed of becoming a writer for a newspaper or magazine. Back then articles were a treasure trove of “who, what, when” rather than hidden persuasions. As Joe Friday used to insist on Dragnet  the columns that we read on the first page were comprised of “just the facts” not that long ago. Editorials were labeled as such and found in a different section of the paper.

I almost barf every time I hear the term “fake news.” It’s become a ploy for changing the topic and insinuating that the media is making things up. I seriously don’t believe that is the case, but I do feel that the line between pure reporting and editorializing has been blurred beyond distinction. As such we are treated to a continual stream of attempts to influence our thinking rather than a simple presentation of information. It used to be that the critical thinking was left to the reader. Now it is as though every report is couched in persuasive arguments that are hidden between the lines. That’s not fake news, it’s just sloppy journalism.

As a result of this mode of reporting we tend to divide into camps where issues are not judged on their distinct merits, but rather in a way characterized by highly generalized thinking. For example, the word “Republican” is casually used by to indicate someone who voted for Donald Trump and is guilty of a number of vile “isms.” Such people are pictured as being mostly white, male and rather uneducated. Reporters carefully choose individuals who fit their preconceived notions to support their thinking. In other words they work backwards from ideas they wish to promote. This results in those who are more progressive casting a self righteous eye of indignation toward anyone who dares to espouse even a hint of conservatism, and of late it more and more often applies to anyone who has certain Christian beliefs.

On the other side are right leaning news outlets who demonizes Democrats by lumping them all together as dangerous socialists intent on destroying our democracy. They even eat their own kind by throwing under the bus any conservative who dares to disagree with them. Donald Trump was elected in part because many of the conservative commentators used a scorched earth manner of reporting on those Republicans who were moderate or willing to compromise. In the meantime the far left dropped these same individuals into a catch all basket of deplorables and destroyed their political ambitions.

Our news on all sides is more hyperbolic than fair and balanced, making it difficult for any of us to get a clear idea of what is really happening and what will work best to solve problems. It’s a “my way or the highway” kind of world that is tearing apart families and friendships as more and more people jump onboard with the self righteousness of the far left or the far right. It seems to me that most of the media is missing the point that we are indeed being manipulated, but not as much by Russians as by our own press. The stories that they write may not be fake, but they are riddled with far too many propaganda techniques that are churning us up and dividing us from one another. I hate to point this out, but it’s a method that has been used since time immemorial to fool the populace.

I for one have grown weary of it, and find it increasingly difficult not to notice all of the rhetorical devices being peppered into virtually every report of the news. The clinker for me is that it is not just one group or one political point of view that is propagating this style. It has found it’s way into everything, leaving us with no recourse other than to be very careful about learning the truth of anything that we see or read. Having a bit of skepticism would serve us all well.

We’ve reached a kind of watershed in which forces around us are playing with our emotions, and in many ways it is working. It’s up to each of us to halt this dangerous trend by realizing that we can’t use labels of any kind to define individual human beings. A firm sociological principal is that we can’t generalize to an entire population based on a single anecdote and yet that is exactly what many of today’s journalists are doing to increase ratings and their own popularity. That isn’t fake. It’s very real and dangerous for the health of our country.

I believe that most of us feel uncomfortable with the bickering and the dividing that is taking place. It’s time that we lead ourselves out this predicament by putting the brakes on attempts to influence our thinking and our beliefs. We need to turn off the noise when we hear it. It’s easy to identify the difference between good reporting and blathering. If we refuse to listen to those who are editorializing rather than reporting, they will soon go away. Reporting the news is a business. If the powers that be realize that we no longer care for their way of doing things, they will change. We are the customers. We have the power. Let’s stop the insanity.

A Victim of Circumstance

airbus aircraft airplane airport
Photo by Manfred Irmer on Pexels.com

I’m one of those people who believes that whether the government had prevented 9/11 or it had happened as it actually did there would have been those who complained. Every since that fateful day there has been much criticism of TSA  and its methods designed to prevent another such tragedy. I suspect that those folks who watch over as at airports are damned if they do and damned if they don’t. Like teachers and police officers they have a sometimes thankless job.

I’ve had a full body pat down in Paris and had to hand over a snow globe that I was carrying onto a plane in New York City. I’ve received glares from TSA agents when I attempted to nervously joke a bit. I find the passage way through the TSA gauntlet to be the most nerve wracking aspect of flying. Still I applaud those fine folks for doing work that few of us would care to endure. I suspect that we’ve mostly been safe as we jet from one place to another since they have been screening passengers. In spite of a few mistakes here and there they have done an admirable job.

It seems that The New York Times recently featured an investigative report revealing that TSA agents watch for certain suspicious behaviors from travelers. Among them are profuse sweating and multiple trips to the bathroom. Folks who do such things are sometimes judged to be unnaturally nervous and up to no good. Often they end up on a no fly list.

I had to laugh out loud when I heard this because on that basis I should most certainly be someone to watch carefully. My long years as a teacher have weakened my bladder to the point of ridiculousness. So many times over the years I had to ignore nature’s call in spite of warning from doctors that doing so would one day cause me grave problems, but what was I to do? I always had to wait for break time or the lunch half hour to take care of my needs. The resulting bladder problem is a common ailment among educators that leads us to the ladies’ room more often than most.

I suppose that visits to the bathroom might be forgiven by the TSA, but I have an additional affliction that might give them pause. I’m one of those lucky women who suffered from hot flashes during menopause. Unfortunately those bursts of profuse perspiration have never gone away. I am liable to grow beet red and without warning end up with droplets of sweat running down my face for no reason at all. It happens so often that I have actually frightened people who worry that I am having some type of medical emergency. It can occur even in freezing weather, and sadly I have been told by my doctor that it will in all probability never go away.

I imagine a TSA agent observing me and wondering if I am some radical old woman ready to do harm as I sweat in my seat and wander back and forth from the bathroom. Little wonder that the agents in France worried enough to pull me aside and feel around for who knows what on my person. Add to that the fact that I was carrying rock specimens for my grandchildren and their reasoning becomes crystal clear.

The Times article appears to have been intended to bring sighs of indignation from those concerned with violations of our civil rights. Nonetheless I find myself sympathizing with TSA rather than being irritated. I know that our human natures will crucify any agent who unwittingly allows a terrorist to get through the airport gaunlet. We won’t be so concerned about fairness if another tragedy occurs. For that reason I actually applaud those folks who are hyper vigilant. I wonder how many times they have prevented disasters that we don’t even know about.

I have a love/hate relationship with flying ever since 9/11. I always breathe a sigh of relief once I have passed inspection. Everything changed on that fateful day when the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center came tumbling down. We became more suspicious and fearful of one another. We began to pull apart as a nation. It didn’t take sweat or trips to the bathroom for us to begin to question our way of life. Ours has been a sad decline into extreme political orthodoxies and divisions. In many ways much of our nation has become as surly as those agents who check us out before we get access to a plane. It is a sad state of affairs that bothers me more than I care to admit, but I don’t mind the TSA agents at all and I urge them to  keep up the good work.

I try to laugh at our problems and keep an even disposition. It’s the only way that we will come out of this anxious state of mind that so plagues us. So if you see me sweating as I wait in a long line at the airport just know that I am simply a victim of Mother Nature and lousy circumstance. If I worry you because I make so many trips to the bathroom have pity and maybe even a bit of appreciation for one of the sacrifices I made as a teacher. I mean no harm to anyone in how I act, and I love our TSA.

We Never Know

snow capped mountains under the cloudy skies
Photo by Stephan Seeber on Pexels.com

We hear it over and over again, and may even experience it, yet we so often seem to momentarily forget. Perhaps we do so because to consider the possibilities of such horror is just too difficult, and so we find ourselves being shocked by reality again and again.

Of course I am speaking of our need to cherish and appreciate all that is wonderful in our lives because we may one day find ourselves all too sadly staring into the abyss of a tragic loss. I learned that fateful truth at the age of eight when I awoke expecting to spend a day with family at the beach, but instead learned that my father had been killed in a car accident. There was so much that I might have said to him had I known what was to happen, so many questions I might have asked. Like so many I was blindsided and left with a nagging feeling of wondering if he ever truly understood how much I loved him.

Over the years I’ve seen such situations play out for me and others that again and again. There was the death of a dear friend from a heart attack, and my mother-in-law’s stroke both of which came so suddenly and unexpectedly. Beloved students died far too soon from car accidents and even murders. I comforted a cousin through marriage whose own cousin and best friend was killed in a freak accident while he was vacationing. A long time family friend was close to death after being injured while having an adventure with good friends. That time we all got lucky, and he did manage to survive but not without a long battle to regain his health. Like most people I might go on and on with examples of tragic and shocking events that knocked me off of my feet. 

Each of us has endured far too many such incidents. They tear at our hearts and sometimes even leave us with regrets. We want just one more hour with loved ones who are ripped from us so quickly, that we feel as though big chunks of our hearts went with them. We may have complete trust that God’s will is being done as it should be, but still feel as though the very earth has suddenly been pulled out from under our feet. We tell ourselves that we are going to be far better at opening our hearts to the people that we love. We pledge to never again take our lives for granted, and then we let the business of the world intrude.

I was reminded of that hollow feeling in times of great and unexpected loss by a heartbreaking post from my niece. A sweet family including a young couple, their two year old child, and their mom and dad had gone to Canada for vacation. They were traveling in a van down a mountainous highway when something quite terrible happened. They had a head on collision with another vehicle and in the aftermath six people lay dead and two were in serious condition in the hospital. Miraculously the toddler was unhurt, but his father and grandmother had died and his mother and grandfather were injured. The other victims had been in the other car when the fiery crash turned deadly.

My niece, Katie posted the article because her daughter’s kindergarten teacher was one of the survivors. Katie asked for prayers and explained that the young woman was an angel who had been exceedingly patient and kind to her little child. Katie was quite naturally very upset and concerned about the wonderful woman who had made such a lasting and beautiful impression on the children that she taught each day. 

Knowing Katie as I do, I am certain that she went out of her way to let this teacher know how much she was appreciated. Katie’s daughter truly loved this woman and in turn felt safe and secure in her classroom. There are probably countless other parents and students who feel the same way, but how many of them actually let their feelings be known?

It takes so little time to voice gratitude or to tell someone how much impact he/she has on our lives. So why do we seem to hesitate or get distracted by work and worries? I’ve brought up this topic so many times because I know without a doubt how important it is to sing praises when someone is alive to hear them. We’d like to think that our dearly departed know how we feel, but why take chances when we might make someone’s day while they are still very much with us? A quick call or note or email is all that it takes, and it will not just make the recipient smile, but will also bring a sense of joy to the sender of the good wishes.

I cried upon learning about the tragedy of this precious family that will never be the same after their horrific accident. I understand in a visceral way the physical and emotional pain that they will endure. I’d like to think that as they travelled together that they had so much fun that once the horror begins to fade, they will have beautiful memories to comfort them. I intend to pray for them, and remind myself once again just how fragile our existences really are. As the saying goes, we just never know what will happen from one moment to the next. We should always be prepared in both the way that we live and the ways in which we build loving relationships with the people that we encounter along our way. It’s a bitter lesson, but one that teaches us the importance of appreciating beyond measure every single breath that we take.

The Stranger

active adults bars blueprint
Photo by Fancycrave.com on Pexels.com

It was a very hot August day when the sky began to darken and lightning cracked nearby. I was a passenger riding in the comfort of my truck when a I saw him, an elderly man with skin darkened to the color and texture of leather from working outside all day. He was on a riding lawn mower, desperately attempting to finish his job before the rains came. He wore a straw cowboy hat and a bandana was tied around his neck to prevent the sun from burning his skin. His work clothes included a pair of khaki pants and a long sleeved shirt, a uniform well suited for the kind of labor he performed. I thought of how noble he looked as he continued to cut the grass and the weeds even as the threat of a storm became more and more imminent. I found myself wondering who this stranger was, where he and his family lived, how he had come to be so dependable and hard working. I wanted to know his story, for he reminded me of my grandfather who had once labored in a meat packing plant cleaning carcasses and dirty floors. He too had worked proudly and reliably to feed and clothe and house his wife and children.

All too often people like this man go unseen, invisible figures in the routine of our lives. We do not think to notice the challenges that such people face or to wonder how the world is treating them. Does he get stereotyped merely because of his complexion or the dirt and sweat on his clothes and skin? Do people turn up their noses at him simply because he does a task that few of us would ever want to do? Is he viewed as an outsider, an outcast, someone that we would not care to have near us even though he is doing an honest day’s work? How often is he misjudged?

I found myself thinking of this man long after our brief encounter. The rains started within minutes after I drove past him, no doubt either drenching him or interrupting the cadence of his work. I thought of how there are so many individuals who labor long and hard day after day only to earn barely enough to stay afloat, and yet they show up to perform their duties again and again because they are unwilling to simply exist through the charity of others.

I recalled a conversation that I once had with one of my students who revealed that he and his mother cleaned office buildings until the early hours of the morning. It was how they paid their rent and kept food in their pantry. He would return home each evening to sleep on the couch rather than in a bed because his siblings had already filled the bedrooms. He snoozed for a few hours and then awoke to go to school to wrangle with his teachers before heading to his night time job. He was a bright boy, but his grades were dismal because he had little time to complete homework assignments. He had to choose between studying and helping his family, and, of course there was no contest as to which to do in his mind. He was perennially exhausted, so he considered dropping out and maybe getting a second job and a bit more sleep. So many people thought that he was lazy, having little idea of how truly wonderful he actually was. Eventually his fate was determined by the economic demands that he faced. He left school, knowing of the dreary prospect of living from hand to mouth for the rest of his life unless some miracle allowed him to return to his studies.

We only think we know and understand those who struggle with poverty or live differently from the ways that we do. We pontificate about the importance of education and working hard and adhering to a budget as though the people who are facing unimaginable challenges are always responsible for their own fates. We choose not to see through their eyes, instead passing unfair judgements that are not backed up with evidence.

Another of my students once cried in my office as he spoke of his mother. This was a big and tough young man who seemed to have no fears. In truth he worried about the woman who loved him so much that she worked double shifts even though her health was rapidly failing. He described how she often came home from her job so tired that she fell asleep in the car, unable to make those last steps into the comfort of her home. When she did manage to stumble inside he would see that her ankles were swollen twice their normal size and the veins in her legs were bulging. She would be out of breath, almost unable to even speak. It was a sight that worried him, but he felt as though there was little more that he might do than earn a high school diploma, become certified for a trade, and then support her so that she might finally rest. He hid is concerns behind a kind of bravado peppered with jokes and attitude. He too was often estimated wrongly by well meaning adults who truly believed that he would never amount to anything. Their expectations for him were nonexistent, so he created his own goals and dreams.

I’m happy to say that both of these young men eventually did well through sheer will and a great deal of hard work. They have survived in ways that few of us would be able to manage and created bright futures for themselves in spite of their circumstances and little encouragement or support. They make me quite proud because I know what it has taken for them to make the changes in their lives and those of their family members. They are glorious in my mind just as that man on the tractor and my grandfather are.

It is sadly true that far too often those who do not match our own standards are thought to be somehow inferior. If we were to take just a moment to walk in their shoes we might learn that they are instead quite remarkable. Such wonderful souls deserve a salute for they are truly the salt of the earth. Think about that next time you see someone toiling away.