All It Takes Is A Little Love

My best days are the ones on which i use my mind to learn new things. I suppose I’ve always been a student. I feel alive when I am walking on the campus of a university and contemplating all of the knowledge that is part and parcel of such places. I become a slug overcome with a case of the blues whenever I do not take the time to develop my brain. The days on which I teach and tutor students in mathematics are among my most joyful. The mornings when I rise early to write my blogs and read are the most satisfying. I am uplifted each time I attend a lecture at the Glasscock School of Continuing Education at Rice University. 

I recently enjoyed what I would define as a perfect day. I arose with the sun much as I usually do and spent some time reading in the hopes of finding a topic to consider for one of my blogs. To my great delight an article started a kind of stream of consciousness inside my head that led to connecting those thoughts to words and ideas that I quickly typed on a blank white screen until a theme for the day had developed. I never quite know which of my little essays will please those who read them. I simply pour out my heart and hope that in the process I might delight someone else. Even if nobody ever reads what I have created, the art of stringing together words into coherent ideas is a most joyful experience for me. 

On the particular day that felt so wonderful I followed up my writing by listening to an online lecture from Michael Sandel, a professor at Harvard University. It was part of readying myself for the philosophy class that I am taking this semester. The topic was justice, in particular a study of John Rawls’s Theory of Justice, something that has always been of great interest to me. If I had not been a teacher or if I had never decided to write I believe that I would have enjoyed being a lawyer or an advocate for those with limited resources. The question of justice is a topic that courses through my thoughts almost continuously and the lecture stirred my soul in ways that produced the happiness of discovery that has always been like a drug to me. 

Not only was I inspired by the clarity of Michael Sandel’s explanation of Rawl’s theories about justice but I enjoyed seeing the earnest faces of the students in his class and hearing the variety of their responses to the questions that he used to challenge them to think critically. When I realized that the video was only one of an entire series on what is right and how justice should be viewed I immediately watched another offering, using the entire morning engaged in thought. 

Soon duty called and I knew that I had to review the processes of solving rational equations to help a young student whom I have tutored for years. I first met him as a little boy who was confused and uncertain about his mathematical abilities. Now he is a junior in high school navigating quite successfully through Algebra II and looking forward to Pre-Calculus next school year. He is one of my all time favorite students with his shock of ginger hair and ready smile. Mostly I am overjoyed to see how mature and self assured he has become. He might be the poster boy for hopefulness for our future. 

My day went by so swiftly while I was engaged in academic pursuits but the best was yet to come. I had registered myself and my husband, Mike, for a special event at Rice University, a lecture from Dr. Peter Hotez, a world renowned virologist at Texas Children’s Hospital. I had listened to Dr. Hotez evening after evening on CNN during the pandemic. I found his information about how to navigate the ups and downs of Covid 19 to be on point and informational. He did not speak to his audience in baby talk. Instead he reported facts, often admitting that the doctors and scientists of the world were learning as the virus evolved. Thus we got a lesson in the anatomy of a new strain of infection night after night along with guidance on what to do to keep ourselves as healthy as possible. Because I followed his advice to the letter my husband and I made it through unscathed and I became an admirer of this incredible man who lives and works in my city.

His lecture was warm, honest and quite personal. We learned the story of his family and how he found his way to Texas Children’s Hospital. We found out more about the more traditional vaccine that he developed for countries without the refrigeration and supply chain capabilities needed for the kind of vaccines produced by pharmaceutical companies in highly developed countries. He gave away the patent of Corbavax to country wanting to use his formula which was then administered to millions of people. 

Dr. Hotez’s story is that of a man who has dedicated himself to the pursuit of science and truth. He has worked for his entire life to treat those who suffer from the ravages of diseases that are rarely studied by big companies that do not stand to make much money on products used for the poorest people in the world. He mostly worked quietly in his laboratory before Covid 19 hit the world when his expertise in viruses and vaccines pulled him into the fray of controversy regarding how we should respond to worldwide epidemics. Sadly the anti-science faction of the country has marked him as a demon when the truth is that he is an earnest man with a sweet smile whose goal has always been to help the least noticed among us. 

I ended my perfect day with dinner at an Italian restaurant where Mike and I toasted each other with wine and spoke about the event that we had just enjoyed. I so love that I am continually learning and evolving and progressing. Life is not about standing still and turning to stone. It is about the adventure of opening our minds to the possible. 

I grew up in the group of youngsters known as Baby Boomers. My father who served in the army in the waning years of World War II was a history buff whose parlor trick was naming the Presidents of the United States in order from first to most recent and vice versa. My mother often spoke of her love of this country which was reinforced by her immigrant father. All of her brothers also served during World War II, some in the army others in the navy. Our family vacation trips always included stops at historic sites and I grew up hearing stories about Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt. I still smile when I think of how emotional my mother became whenever she heard America the Beautiful. Eventually my foray into learning about my ancestry would reveal that my kin fought in the American Revolution and my great grandfather was a Lieutenant in the Union Army during the Civil War. 

My parents taught me to be patriotic and proud of my country in spite of its many flaws. My teachers instructed me with honesty and showed me how to think critically about any issue. I have always believed that what is best about our nation has been its ability to change and rectify past injustices. Mostly I believed that our country was a haven for people like my grandparents who fled Eastern Europe in search of a place where they would be free to work toward a better future for themselves and their children. My mother helped me understand that there was great prejudice hurled at them even in the USA, but what mattered most was that they were nonetheless allowed to express their own beliefs and to prosper in ways that would have been denied them in the old country, especially after Russia created the Soviet Union. 

I was taught to face even difficult truths in history by both my father and my teachers. The adults asserted that a good citizen of any country has to be willing to admit to wrongs committed by the state and then be willing to right those wrongs. I was quite proud of my mother who wrote a research paper in the late sixties detailing the problems associated with the Vietnam War. She came to the conclusion that the citizens of the United States had often been mislead about what was actually happening there. She grieved for the soldiers who did not even know what was happening behind the curtain of secrecy in Washington D. C. Her ultimate resolution was that the war had been a grave mistake that had led us down a treacherous pathway. Her professor who was a conservative politician boldy congratulated her on a well conceived and executed argument and gave her an A+ for a grade. 

I suppose that my background made me a patriot who is more than willing to talk about the many horrific mistakes that have been made in the name of our nation, including the war between states that ultimately broke the chains of slavery that had so wrongly kept humans in bondage for economic gain. I think that our country has been at its best when we have been courageous enough to face our flaws with honesty. It’s always difficult to admit imperfections. We humans attempt to cover them all time but when they actually harm others they eventually result in turmoil. Humans can take only so much mistreatment before they finally push back. Often the concept of doing things the way we always have becomes untenable and changes occur. 

My family history is one of forward thinking, not looking back. We are not mired in clinging to traditions that are outmoded or unfair. I celebrate my grandchildren who are already blazing trials for the betterment of not just the United States, but the entire world. They understand that we are presently in a kind of rut, a ditch from which we must rise, not by denying progress but by seizing it. They advocate for the rights of woman that are still to be achieved, the preservation of the planet, the securing of democracy and justice for all. They are as dedicated as my father and my uncles were during World War II and as emotional about our freedoms as my mother always was. They have embraced the diversity of our nation without reservations for they see the melding of differing cultures and ideas as a strengthening force, not one that diminishes our greatness as people. 

Some of my peers joke that I have always been a bit of a hippy, a free thinker with beliefs that verge on idealism rather than reality. I am willing to admit that I dream big when it comes to politics. I refuse to accept the status quo when there are other possibilities that will nudge our country just a bit closer to the perfection that some try to pretend that we already have. The calculus of change tells us that we can move infinitely closer and closer to the approximations of universal freedom if we are willing to move forward. 

As a teacher and lifelong learner I fully understand that there is always something new to consider, to unravel. Our human journey should represent an arc of progress and freedom, not a regression into old ways that denigrate groups and plant fears in our hearts. I have witnessed the transformation of the children of immigrants who speak little or no English into bilingual citizens who serve as doctors, professors, teachers, lawyers, soldiers, good neighbors in a only one generation. I see beautiful babies conceived from different races smiling with a radiance that must please God. Ours should not be a longing or concern to be a nations of WASPs. If we are to be the shining city on the hill that we wish to be, we must be a nation of diversity and inclusion that allows everyone to thrive. 

This is what i know to be true. I am an American and a patriot who sees the future as bright only if we are willing to embrace honesty about our past and inclusiveness in our future. Turning back the clock is moving in the wrong direction. Tomorrow beckons and hopefully we will answer its call. 

My days are mostly mundane but sometimes exciting. Yesterday I saw the light of understanding burn brightly for two of the students that a teach or tutor. Such moments give me hope for a world that is filled with problems caused by human inability to simply get along. I often struggle to understand how disagreements lead to wars and yet I am familiar enough with the history of the human experience to know that people are not always at their best. How things get so far out of hand that they lead to death and destruction is beyond my ability to even imagine, but I know that there truly is a dark side to the way humans interact that has the potential to create chaos and destruction. 

Somehow I ended up living in a little bubble in a safe corner of the world. I have endured tragedies and incredible losses but I was always surrounded by love to carry me through such events. Even in my darkest hours I understood that my pain and suffering would be momentary in the grand scheme of things. I have returned again and again to the comfort and security of knowing that I am surrounded by goodness and that the evil I witness is something seemingly far away from me. My good fortune has kept me optimistic and sometimes admittedly naive about horrors that have been as much a part of the human journey as the joys that comfort me again and again. 

I pride myself on being well informed and searching for truth, but when it comes to wars between nations or groups of people I become confused. I start from my own thinking which would never allow me to purposely harm another person no matter how angry I may be. This perspective has kept me centered and mostly happy but it is also shields me from reality. I see inhumanity and I cringe in disbelief, questioning whether my own refusal to believe that people are at heart sinners is part of the problem. How do I look away from the evidence that there is indeed an evil side to our natures? What can I possibly do other than brood when I witness human inhumanity? 

As I go about my daily chores I pride myself in keeping up with the news, being an informed citizen. I awake early and read three or four newspapers before getting to work. I listen to NPR as I drive to my teaching sessions or while running errands. I am aware of the many issues plaguing the world and yet I all too often fall into a habit of resigning myself to a certainty that there is little that I might do to resolve those problems. 

I try to discuss such things but find that most people prefer to keep conversations light and cheery. They quickly change the subject with inane assertions that life “is what it is.” They note that few of the topics that I mention are their problems. I begin to wonder if I am simply too obsessed with thinking about difficulties that don’t appear to directly involve me. Still I muse about that possibility that much of the violence in the world is caused by our indifference to injustice. I can’t send the remnants of my dinner to a starving child, but surely there are other sacrifices that I might make to help even one more person go to bed tonight will a feeling of fullness. 

Not long ago I watched and award winning documentary of Frontline on PBS. It was a film created in the opening days of the Russian invasion of Ukraine called 20 Days in Mariupol. It showed the destruction of that city by Russian forces with brutal honesty that left me sobbing uncontrollably and wondering why anyone is ever willing to attack and kill their fellow humans. The sheer brutality leading to the collapse of Mariupol from the relentless and indiscriminate bombing by Russian invaders left me considering our responsibilities to each other. How can we simply look at such evil and then go about our routines as though it is none of our business? 

I write my blogs and read my Bible at the beginning of each day. I go about my scheduled activities and run my errands sometimes being annoyed by petty slights. Then I suddenly remember the young boy who was playing soccer in Mariupol when bombs fell all around him. He lost both of his legs and then his life for no conceivable reason other than a tyrant’s desire to exert power over others. I remember the young pregnant woman who sought refuge in the maternity ward of a hospital as she neared the due date of her child. How can there be any redeeming reason for the loss of her life and that of her unborn child from bombs dropped on a civilian sanctuary? 

Mariupol ultimately fell to Russia but two years later the war for the soul of Ukraine continues. Since then terror and war has spread. The Hamas raid on Israel has led to the destruction of much of Gaza and a death toll that includes tens of thousands of innocent people who only want to live the way I do. As more and more people seek refuge from war, famine, natural disasters, authoritarian governments our response is mostly to divide ourselves into groups that quibble with one another over what to do or not do. 

The cynics would argue that this has been the way of the world for all time and it would be difficult to refute them. Nonetheless, surely we should be able to somehow minister to the suffering by aiding them in their struggles Today they are fighting for freedoms, for human dignity. Tomorrow it could be us. We should be using our powers of persuasion and our powers of the purse to at least try to make a difference. 

George W Bush’s greatest accomplishment as President of the United States was to diligently work to eliminate the AIDs epidemic in Africa. The knowledge, education, and medical funding that the United States sent to that continent made a huge difference in successfully working on what had seemed to be an impossible task. Those efforts forestalled what might have been yet another indescribable tragedy and yet as the time to renew that effort loomed we chose to tighten our purse strings and put the entire program in a state of uncertainty. Why are we so inclined to be stingy when something does not benefit us directly or if something takes longer to resolve than we had hoped?

I suppose that I will keep writing for the choir that returns to my blogs. I will continue teaching young people so that one day they will be able to take on the problems that are sure to arise. I will use my voice no matter how weak it may be. I want to believe that somehow the goodness of the world will ultimately overwhelm the bad. We can’t look away! We can’t just say that the world has always been this way. We should always do better.

I recently injured my foot and leg in a ridiculous accident that never should have happened. How it came about is a story in itself, but what I want to talk about is how wonderful it was to have a female doctor on the case. Ellen Roberts is a perky young woman with a big smile and a delightful way of explaining things. Our journey together was somewhat brief but unbelievably wonderful. 

I have not had many female doctors during my lifetime. I enjoyed a woman dermatologist for a time but she does not accept my insurance anymore so I’ve settled for a man who is friendly and knowledgeable. My ophthalmologist is a woman who talks fasts, knows a lot and is a hoot to be around. Otherwise my health has mostly been in the hands of highly competent men who have kept we doing well but sometimes lacked the ability to make me feel as though they were really attuned to the concerns that I had. My primary care physician is the exception. He is wonderful keeping me healthy and centered.

There have been other times when I have felt compelled to keep my comments to doctors brief lest I come across as a female hypochondriac. Somehow I have often struggled to convey how I was actually feeling, but with Dr. Roberts that was not the case. From the first I was so comfortable that it felt as though I was talking with a girlfriend. She was warm, funny and intuitive, bringing up small things that she noticed about my injury and my general appearance as related to health. She took a great deal of time to become familiar with the exact nature of my injury by having me walk, asking questions and doing additional tests. She showed me exactly how to fit the medical boot on my foot and what kind of socks to wear with it. She even went so far as to show me photos of compression socks that I should purchase and told me how often to wear them during the day. Visits with her were so comfortable and delightful. 

I had a hematoma in my leg that was about the size of an egg but Dr. Roberts suggested first treating it with a warm cloth, compression socks and elevation of my feet each day. When I returned for what might possibly have been time for surgical removal of the hematoma, the pool of blood had shrunk to the point of being unnoticeable. Dr. Roberts joked that she loved having opportunities to show off her surgical skills but felt that there was no longer any reason to do so. Instead she gave me directions for exercises to help with my continued rehabilitation and suggested that some of my pain might be alleviated with the purchase of shoes designed for recovery of foot injuries. Then we talked and laughed and spoke of how we would miss each other since I no longer needed her services. 

My foot and my leg are great. In fact they haven’t felt this good in years. Dr. Roberts has sent me a couple of messages to be certain that I am still doing well and I find myself feeling so much gratitude for her. Somehow she totally got me in a way that only a woman is able to do. The only other time I have felt this way was also under the care of a nurse practitioner named Eleanor who was so insightful that I got excited when I had an appointment with her. She had practiced in London delivering thousands of babies and she had an understanding of how women tick that was extraordinary. 

Ironically my appreciation of encounters with highly intuitive healthcare workers is not all about female to female relationships. My husband has a female primary care physician who makes him feel better just being in the same room with him. He has never found another doctor to be as responsive to his needs and concerns. She has gone out of her way over and over again to quickly get him exceptional care from specialists. She calls him personally when she senses that he is anxious about symptoms or diagnoses. He swears that she brings down his blood pressure with her compassionate smile. 

A Harvard study has shown that elderly hospitalized patients tend to have better outcomes when they are treated by female physicians. The general conclusion from the research links doctor attentiveness and empathy to the more positive results. Female doctors are more likely to notice small reactions in their patients. They tend to to take more time asking questions and generally making the patient comfortable enough to be honest about how they are feeling. 

While not all women doctors have the knack of excellence coupled with bedside manner, so too is it true that not all male doctors treat patients with rushed indifference. The main finding of the study was that as an aggregate the female doctors generally did better at observing patient behaviors that led to better diagnoses and more focused care. While the researchers were not ready to say that female physicians do a better job, they appear in general to have a better understanding of how to communicate with their patients in ways that provide them with more information to use in diagnosing problems and creating treatment plans. I suspect that my favorable impression of Doctor Roberts had more to do with the ways in which she handled my fears than any procedures that she performed on me. Somehow she understood how I was feeling and explained away all of my anxieties in a way that led to a wonderful outcome. 

I won’t be changing my primary care physician. He happens to be a man with the same skills as Dr. Roberts. Still, if given the choice of two highly regarded doctors who are male and female, I might be more inclined to try the woman when I feel the need for the kind of talk that can only take place between two women. I’m glad to know that the medical community is willing to learn about ways to talk with us that help us to understand and feel comfortable. We females tend to linger longer and want more than just a quick synopsis. Feeling that personal touch makes all the difference.  

Human relationships have always been complex. In any society we humans have to determine ways in which we will be able to get along peacefully with one another. Historically this has never been an easy task because each of us is unique and also somewhat the same. We have basic needs but also dreams of self actualization. Historically our sexual differences often determined what kind of life we might live. The men who were physically stronger went hunting for food and the women whose bodies bore children kept the fires burning at home while tending to the offspring. 

Of course we hear of cultures in which women took a leading role but more often than not traditions grew around the idea that the men would provide the means for survival and the women would raise the children. While there are historical examples of females who broke away from such conventions, for the most part girls grew up learning how to play secondary more submissive roles. Often there was little need for them to be well educated in order to perform their duties in the communities in which they found themselves. While they may have had bigger dreams those kind of thoughts were often suppressed by the realities of their situations. 

In the not so long ago women like my two grandmothers. were illiterate in the ways of formal learning but brilliant in folk traditions handed down to them by centuries of women learning how to survive in a world that mostly saw them as lesser beings. Even the women of my mother’s generation mostly used the knowledge garnered from their public educations to be helpmates to their husbands, denying their own intellectual potential to focus on his. Like most Baby Boomer girls I grew up for a time in a household filled with unspoken but understood traditional values. it would be my father whose career would determine where and how we would live. My mother’s role was to help him to achieve his goals, to support him in his needs. While she appeared to be quite happy in her status, she was sorely unprepared for the challenges that she would face upon his death at a very young age. Thankfully she possessed the intelligence and resolve to adapt quickly to her new reality. 

I was on the cutting edge of a feminist revolution. By the time I met my future husband and the two of us were discussing a life together there was a clear understanding between us that ours would be a mutually equal partnership. Our lives would not be ruled by one person or the other. We would have to work together to help each other achieve very separate dreams beginning with the agreement that we would control the number of children that we would have together. I knew that I did not want to rely solely on the serendipity of my fertility to determine how large my family would be. Human inventiveness provided me with a way to be able to decide whether or not I would have babies and how many of them I would be able to handle and still develop my career potential. I was part of a revolution for women that would bring them to the highest places in the world of work. 

Suddenly the family process of deciding how to share the many aspects and duties of a lifetime relationship were more complex than ever and they have become even more so as the children and grandchildren of Boomers have come of age in the world. The new freedom to give everyone a say in how they wish to live and thrive presents its own set of challenges. Humans have so many choices in how to live that it can be daunting to decide what that will be for each person. Relationships have become balancing acts of many cultures, religious beliefs, traditions, levels of education and personalities. Agreeing on where and how to live demands respect and compromises that are bound to create conflict and uncertainty unless the two people making such decisions are fully dedicated to the proposition of mutual support in creating a family unit. 

Complicating every relationship will be outside forces and changes beyond the control of either member of the couple. Life is never static and surprises have a way of changing the direction of even the most carefully considered plans. Nobody thinks about responsibilities that alter the course of pledges to love, honor and cherish one another till death do they part. Sometimes the dreams that brought two people together slip away into simply navigating the realities of the situation. Tragedies happen that test us all the time. 

We don’t talk to our children enough about the art of building strong and enduring relationships. They mostly learn by watching us and then they meet people from very different backgrounds and have to experiment in melding their lives with others mostly on the fly. We would do well to talk with them openly about the art of honestly expressing who they are and what they feel that they need. More importantly is showing them the importance of being themselves while also keeping the needs of a partner satisfied in a balance of mutual respect. 

Communication is always the key to a good relationship. Being honest about our feelings without tearing down the other person is essential. As humans we will find ourselves in conflict even with those that we most love. Developing an environment of honesty and respect and not allowing third parties to intrude is critical to the health of the union over time. Domination of one person over the other never works. 

We humans are still working on developing close and enriching relationships with one another. It may be the most difficult thing that we do but if we approach the process with an openness and willingness to treasure each other in both our agreements and our differences we will experience the joy of finding a special person who brings out the very best in us while we bring out the best in them. Happily I see evidence that as a society we are getting better at developing equal partnerships in which no one person matters more than another. That is a very good thing but we must be careful not take our progress for granted. We still have to work hard to keep our relationships thriving. Having a partner in life who fully understands us and helps us to always feel free to be ourselves should never be taken for granted.