All It Takes Is A Little Love

I have a gentle nature. I am not prone to anger or violence. I tend to be a quiet person who melts into a crowd. My level of empathy is so strong that I sometimes cry over the difficulties of strangers. I worry about people, and not just those that I know. I have a sixth sense when it comes to noticing someone who is in pain, either physically or mentally. I am an observer of human nature. People are always more important to me than money or things. I would gladly give away my possessions for the sake of helping someone in need. I have a strong relationship with God who has helped me through difficult challenges again and again. 

I grew up with only memories of a father and while they were pleasant I hid an internal sadness in knowing that I would never see him again. I watched my mother bravely struggle with finances. Somehow she always found ways to keep us housed and fed but we made untold sacrifices that we rarely mentioned. I know that we never had health insurance of any kind. I don’t think I visited our family physician at all from the time my father died when I was eight until I was a teen needing a physical exam for college. We got our vaccinations from the Canal Clinic for free. I recall sitting there on hard wooden chairs for hours waiting for our number to be called. 

I did not drive until I was married because my mother was unable to afford the insurance for me. I had to rely on the kindness of friends to get around and I often used my bicycle to travel rather long distances when none of them were available. My family led a rather spartan life but it was always filled with love and gratitude for what we had. My mother always told us to be thankful for our blessings. She reminded us that if we had a roof over our heads and a bed for sleeping that we were indeed fortunate. She often boasted that we had never missed a meal and that was certainly true. I learned to enjoy a big bowl of pinto beans for dinner and a fried egg sandwich for lunch. My closet looked almost bare with my five school blouses, two skirts, a blazer and the four dress up outfits that hung there. I had just what I needed and no more. 

I suppose that my childhood experiences prepared me well for teaching underserved minority populations. So many of my students lived in poverty and were often misunderstood by the middle class population. I knew what it was like to live on the edge, to worry as much about my family’s situation as my studies. I knew that many of my students were faking it from day to day much as I had. I opened my heart to them and somehow they realized that I would be an ally because I had once walked in their shoes. 

I suppose that my background explains my political leanings. My mother would speak of the Great Depression with a kind of reverence. She told me of the hardships that most of society endured. She described how her mother saved cardboard to put in the bottom of shoes when the leather soles became so thin that there was a hole. Mama was the queen of hand me downs. Everything she wore had once belonged to her three older sisters. It was not until she was a teen that she learned to sew and how to earn money for fabric that she ever wore a brand new outfit. 

Mama often spoke of the profound prejudice aimed and her and her family members. Neighbors and classmates threw rocks at her and her siblings as they walked to school. They cursed them with epithets and urged them to go back to wherever they had come from. They didn’t seem to realize that my mother and her brothers and sisters had all been born in the United States. On one occasion my mom’s best friend had to rescind an invitation to a sweet sixteen tea party because her parents feared that the “dirty immigrant girl” would be an embarrassment. That immigrant girl was my mother. 

Mama used to boast that her family had always been Democrats. It was not until Ronald Reagan that she ever changed from that affiliation. She like Reagan because she had idolized him in movies when she was young and because he seemed to be a truly nice individual. After that she went back and forth with her vote. 

I am disturbed by the nasty tone of the most recent elections. I do not like the references to minorities, immigrants, women that sound so much like the kind of abuse that my mother had to endure when she was a young girl. I am saddened by comments that assume that poverty is a result of ignorance and laziness. I cringe when I hear people telling those that they do not like to go back to wherever they came from. When I observe such things I remember the look of hurt in my sweet and guileless mother when she told me of the treatment she had received. I cannot imagine what drives people to accept such behavior in anyone much less a leader. 

I was taught that America’s greatness lies in the goodness of its people and I still believe that, but when I get attacked for simply stating my own beliefs I worry that we are going down a dangerous pathway. Each of us have differing backgrounds and needs that often color how we decide to vote. It’s important that we have those choices. A one size fits all way of thinking is the very last thing we need. Diversity of citizens and philosophies makes our nation vibrant, not an insistence that we must join a certain team or face rejection. 

In the coming months we will continue to deal with Covid-19 and we will be contemplating how to cast our votes in November. The most American and patriotic thing that we might do is embrace our differences. We should all insist that there is no place for insults or stereotyping. American democracy is not going to end one way or another when the votes are counted. Our nation has endured many trials and somehow comes out stronger each time, but that requires the realization that the vast majority of our 300,000,000 people have good hearts. I vote the way I do based on my personal experiences. Others choose based on theirs. We need to save our attacks for Covid-19 and not for political thoughts. 

We hear a great deal about breathing these days. Those who contract Covid-19 often speak of having difficulty catching a breath. Some end up needing the assistance of a ventilator just to send oxygen into their lungs. We watched in horror as George Floyd pleaded for his mother’s help as he struggled to breathe under the constricting knee of a police officer. Each day lovely images appear on Facebook under the title Just Breathe. Sometimes we become almost breathless in our debates with one another over the coming presidential election. 

One thing for certain is that calming our souls and drawing deep breaths of oxygen into our lungs is good for both our physical and mental health. Sadly we often take this simple act for granted and sometimes we even put ourselves into a harmful state by neglecting to take the very measures that will ensure that we are modulating this life giving gift.

Of late we have politicized breathing on many different levels. Some follow the guidelines of wearing masks, keeping distances and staying away from crowded places in an attempt to save themselves and others from contracting Covid-19. Others see such actions as an assault on their individual freedoms, insisting that they owe nothing to others and should not have to endure the discomfort and indignity of wearing a covering over their mouths. Many saw the death of George Floyd as a clear indication of the level of disregard for the lives of our Black citizens while others saw it only as an excuse for violence and looting. We engage in debates that often become so heated and personally offensive that we literally find ourselves gasping for calm. 

I remember presidential elections from as far back as the year that Dwight Eisenhower was running for that office. I was a very young  girl back then who knew little or nothing about the issues but I had heard the slogan I like Ike and I was drawn to the idea of supporting the general who in my mind had helped to save the world. I remember riding my bicycle around the neighborhood with my friend, Lynda, shouting I like Ike to no one in particular. The only other memory of that campaign is the anger that I felt when political convention coverage preempted The Mickey Mouse Club. Nonetheless I was thrilled when Eisenhower won without ever really knowing what party he represented or what ideas he espoused. 

The next time I recall a presidential election was when John Kennedy ran for that office. I was not yet a teen but I had a great deal of interest in that contest mostly because Kennedy was a Catholic like me and I thought he was quite handsome. I also felt that his wife was quite lovely and would grace the White House well. I knew little of his actual politics until he was already acting as our Commander in Chief and the Cuban missile crisis ensued. I thought he handled that incident  well and I was inspired by his speeches, his support for the space program and his smile. 

I had much more skin in the game when Lyndon Johnson ran against Barry Goldwater. By then I had studied the issues and realized that I leaned more toward Johnson’s thinking. Mostly though my motivations were rather shallow. I wanted someone from Texas to be in charge of managing the country. I felt a certain obligation to demonstrate loyalty to a fellow Texan even as I disagreed with many of his ideas.

Over the years I became more and more attuned to what each presidential candidate believed. I never found someone who perfectly fit my own philosophies nor did I agree implicitly with one party. For that reason I remained staunchly independent and voted based on hopes that my choices would be leaders who worked for all of the people all of the time. I went back and forth between Republicans and Democrats over the years attempting to determine who approximated the greatest number of my beliefs. As I matured I realized that every single candidate who ran for president was flawed in one way or another so my vote became more and more of a selection of the lesser of two evils or, to be more positive, the one who seemed more likely to be a good shepherd of democracy. 

I won some and lost some. From time to time I voted differently from my husband and other relatives and friends. There were occasions when I regretted my choices or came to realize the value of a president for whom I had not voted. Above all I greatly appreciated that I lived in a country where I was free to openly agree to disagree and still keep my relationships with my fellow citizens strong and loving. We all seemed to be alike in our earnest desire to keep our nation strong even when we differed in how to achieve that goal. There was a kind of mutual respect that we saw in the friendships of both political allies and those who battled one another. It was not just okay for us to support divergent ideas but actually something that we all seemed to know was necessary for the health and continuation of our political system.

I do not know the exact moment when things began to change. I suspect that the roots may have found a hold  in the atmosphere of Richard Nixon’s dirty tricks. They festered like a virus until they raged again during Bill Clinton’s time in office. The great downfall from grace came with the hanging chads of the 2000 election and the terrorist attacks of 9/11. A kind of hysteria overtook politics and became louder and more filled with suspicions and hoaxes and anger than it had been in decades. Political discussions were polluted with demeaning language and anger. People began to become evangelists for their specific issues, preaching a kind of doomsday scenario for the future of our country if we did not join them in their crusade. 

Then there was Donald J. Trump who took the populist idea of preying on fears to a level not seen for more than fifty years. He spoke with a venomous passion of foreign and domestic enemies. He hearkened to a time that may or may not have actually ever existed. He insulted those who disagreed with him in language that we had never seen a president use so publicly. He was a street fighter who appealed to our lesser instincts. He demanded loyalty from his followers and as he gained more and more power even members of his own political party who spoke against some of his actions became victims of his bombast. His supporters explained away his flaws and elevated him to a level of adoration unseen during my lifetime. 

Now we cannot seem to simply express our own feelings about various issues without fear of having someone argue with us, put down our ideas, sometimes even reject us. Friendships are lost. Families are divided. We feel as though we cannot breathe in the toxic atmosphere. 

It does not and should not be that way. Each of us should be free to choose a political stance and still maintain close and loving feelings for those who have decided otherwise. We should not be turning each other into opponents nor should we be judgmental or self righteous. Why are we making people so anxious that they feel as though they are gasping for breath? Why can’t we simply accept other points of view and maybe even learn from them? 

The real danger in our country is not from Russians or Chinese but from ourselves. We have interjected far too much emotion and not nearly enough rationality into our discourse. We have forgotten the ideals upon which our country was somewhat imperfectly founded. We can be better than we have most recently been. We can sit quietly and discuss our beliefs like my father and grandfather often did, like my mother-in-law and I used to do. Let’s get back to dignity and respect. Let’s demonstrate empathy. Let’s all just breathe.

I’m a fan of the PBS series Frontline. I’ve been watching it for years to learn more about the world. It’s topics are always timely and informative and invariably lead me to do additional research on my own. Of course during the days of Covid-19 the program has often featured human interest stories about individuals and groups who have suffered from the virus. 

I’d been feeling a bit low about the isolation that has come to define my life during the past six months when I tuned in to an episode that featured two families whose lives were upended by these uncertain times. The first feature introduced an Hispanic woman who was many months pregnant when she contracted Covid-19. She began to have some difficulties associated with her pregnancy and was admitted to the hospital. Soon after her baby was born and during the birth she went into a coma brought on by complications from  the virus. She would spend the next many weeks battling for her life while breathing with the help of a ventilator.

In the meantime her husband and other son both tested positive for Covid-19 as well. When it came time for the newborn baby to leave the hospital the father had no idea what to do so he contacted his son’s teacher and asked if she might be able to help. The woman checked for resources everywhere and finally decided that she and her husband would have to care for the baby while her student’s family attempted to recover from the virus. She herself had been an immigrant as was her husband, so they both understood the complexities of the situation. It was a difficult decision but one that she knew she had to make.

Nothing went smoothly for the infected family so it was many more weeks than anyone anticipated before the mother of the newborn was well enough to return home to her husband and son who had finally overcome the virus themselves. With the unflagging support of the teacher and the generosity of countless strangers the baby was finally reunited with his mother who soon learned that her own mother had contracted Covid-19 and was not doing well. Nonetheless they were joyful that they were finally back together and enormously grateful for the compassion of the teacher who had helped them so much.

I felt a sense of guilt after watching this program and learning how much the Hispanic community has been impacted by this virus. The families that were featured had been working hard and enjoying life before Covid-19 upended their dreams of building better lives in the United States. They lived simply and frugally but they were happy. They got sick mostly because they never had the luxury of staying home and avoiding the virus. They continued doing essential work that so many of us take for granted. The virus invaded their lives because they had been determined to keep a steady income flowing into their simple existence. 

Even as we sit in our homes feeling beset upon because our own lives have been disrupted by inconveniences there are people who are working in hot fields harvesting crops or in factories preparing the food and the products on which we depend. Our country has built walls to keep many like them away from us and now in an ironic twist they have become essential to us. Even as more and more of them become sick and die, there are those among us who continue to complain about them and would gladly send them back to the places from whence they have come. Too often we take for granted the fresh produce and cases of meat that we find in our stores. We complain about shortages without thinking that they have often happened because the people who prepare such things are sick from the virus. 

I remind myself each morning of my good fortune. I am able to do the things that should keep me healthy and safe. While my activities have been constrained by Covid-19 I have not missed a meal or worried that I might lose my home. I may have to forego a trip or an evening at a restaurant but that is a small sacrifice in a time when there are souls who are losing multiple family members and living on the edge of financial disaster. 

I see much kindness around me. I think of the teacher in the Frontline story who so lovingly helped the family of her student by caring for their newborn. Nonetheless, I worry about the level of selfishness that seems to be rampant in our society. I hear people complaining about simple changes that they must make in their lives. I hear comments about the poor and minorities that are distressing. I wonder when so many in my midst became so self absorbed that they are no longer able to find enough compassion to just help those in need without judging them or demanding their own rights. 

I do not say that I am blessed because such a description implies that somehow God has chosen to be good to me over others and nothing in my Christian beliefs makes me think that a generous deity would pick and choose individuals on whom to bestow favors. Instead I believe that we are provided with opportunities and talents that we are expected to use for the good of all. That means sharing whatever we have and sacrificing if necessary. That should be our main focus in these times. 

I have to remind myself of this every single day because it is easier to complain than to look for ways to help to end the difficult moment in which we live. I am grateful that our grocery stores are still operating. I appreciate that our doctors and nurses who are still available to heal us if we get sick even as many in their midst have died. I do everything in my power to support our teachers as they undertake the task of continuing the education of our young. I join them by doing my part to teach mathematics to a number of youngsters who are learning from home. I ask myself what I might personally do to ensure that those who are less fortunate will not drown in worry or loss. I believe that if we are to overcome the horrific effects of Covid-19 we all need to agree to unconditionally care for our fellow humans and provide for their needs whoever they are and wherever they may be. We also must be willing to speak out against any form of name calling or lack of compassion regardless of the source. We have been shown the way the truth and the light. If we follow those examples all else will fall into place. If we fight over status and possessions our journey will be more difficult. 

If there is a leader whom I would want us to emulate it would be former President Jimmy Carter. He has spent his life walking the walk of his beliefs. He has worked to care for the underserved, the forgotten. He provides homes and love. Let’s be like him and remember that we are all neighbors.

We have literally stayed inside our home for the last two months so we decided to take another trip with our trailer to see our grandkids before they start back to school in a couple of weeks. We followed the same routine as before which meant preparing all of our food inside our traveling home, staying at our regular RV site, and visiting our daughter’s home in the evening when the sun has gone down and cooling breezes keep us comfortable as we sit outside under the stars six to eight feet away from one another. During the daytime hours we journey around the Texas Hill Country enjoying the vistas and seeing how people are reacting to Covid-19 which took a decided uptick in Texas just after our last trip.

Our first stop was at the Luling Buckee’s to get gasoline. Bukcee’s is a Texas gas station known for its spotless bathrooms with countless stalls and a cornucopia of food, snacks and drinks. With our concerns about going into crowded places we only filled up our gas tank and never stepped a foot inside the store. We used our own clean restroom and I made sandwiches in the trailer. For the most part people were waiting until the very last minute to don their masks and there did not appear to be any efforts to keep the number of people inside down to a minimum. I got the feeling that lots of people were resentful of having to take any precautions at all. 

Our campsite was wonderful as usual. The people who work in the office are quite cautious and make the process of checking in both easy and quick. We got a nice spot under the shade of an old tree which was also right next to the Wifi antenna. The place is always very quiet with few people mingling outside since it is a very hot time of year. Most of the folks are senior citizens who reside there all year long. 

Our first outing was to Fredericksburg where we hoped to pick up some wine at Becker’s Winery. We noted that they are open for business so we decided to stock up on some of our favorites. The winery itself is located in a lovely setting with vistas of native flowers and lavender fields. We soon learned that they are only providing pick up orders at this time so we chose a lane to park our car and called in our selections. While we waited we watched a flock of hummingbirds flitting from one blossom to another. They were quite entertaining and we were cooled by the shade of an old oak tree and a breeze. I would have enjoyed staying there doing nothing for hours.

We were the only people aside from a few workers so it was pleasantly quiet. We decided to eat our packed lunch in the peaceful setting. It turned out to be even nicer relaxing there than we had anticipated. A  woman wearing a mask eventually came out and placed our wine purchase on a stone wall in front of our truck and waved with a friendly gesture. It seemed to be a great way for all of us to stay safe.

Since we needed some bread we drove to a German bakery on the main street of Fredericksburg. Unlike our previous visit in June, on this day everyone walking up and down the street was wearing a mask. There was a big sign near the intersection of the major streets urging everyone to social distance and wear masks by order of the governor. At the bakery another sign indicated that we needed to wait for permission to enter, which happened rather quickly. There were large emblems on the floor marking the six feet intervals on which we were to stand. Everyone with the exception of those eating  was wearing a mask. Screens separated us from the workers behind the counter. We made our selections and were once again on our way without spending much time inside. It all felt very clean and organized giving me a great sense of confidence that I had not been exposed to the virus..

Later that evening we sat on the balcony overlooking a scenic Hill Country vista at my daughter’s home. She had fans interspersed with the chairs that kept us cool as we visited and caught up on news from our grandchildren. We had a great deal of discussion about the coming school year which is fraught with so many uncertainties. All of my grandchildren will be attending high school and sadly there will be thirty brand new teachers and a fleet of substitutes to take the positions of  the many teachers who chose to leave when they learned that face to face classes would begin in mid August with an estimated 3000 students choosing to return even though remote learning was also offered. Most of the other school districts in the San Antonio area will have remote classes until the end of September but the superintendent of my grandchildren’s district chose to go face to face immediately and have a choice of remote that cannot be changed after the start of school. My grandchildren have little idea who their teachers will be and phone calls or emails to the school have been generally ignored. It will be very different from the comfort they have formerly known.

On day two of our adventures we drove out to Junction.Texas by way of Boerne. The people there were far more relaxed about Covid-19 precautions than the ones we had seen in Fredericksburg.  The same had been true in June. It made me sad because there are places in Boerne that I enjoy visiting each time I travel that way but both this time and last I chose to just stay put in my truck and drive straight through town. 

The drive to Junction is quite lovely. It takes on the hilly and desert- like scenery of the west. Since it is always quietly quaint there the virus appeared not to have changed a thing. There were still the same stores and family owned restaurants with the “vibrant” area of town hovering around Interstate 10. There is not a whole lot of civilization past Junction for many many miles so it’s a good place to gas up and grab some provisions. Instead we found a little roadside park and had a picnic and enjoyed the sound of silence.

We spent our last evening with the grandkids. We all ended up wishing for the routines of the past when they would have spent a week visiting us and going to ball games, the beach and other fun places. Our visits to see them would have meant eating out and seeing the sites around San Antonio. We wondered how long their school would stay open and worried that maybe Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas would be quite different this year as well. We finished our time together with virtual hugs and a thankfulness that we were able to get together but a sense of regret that our time together went by so quickly and in such a strange way. 

What I generally observed in my time on the road is an effort to keep things as normal as possible even as they are so obviously abnormal. We will talk about this time for the rest of our lives. We can only hope that we are handling it the way that we should. These are strange days indeed.