All It Takes Is A Little Love

One of the best aspects of being retired has been continuing to learn from outstanding professors at the RIce University Glasscock School of Continuing Education. The offerings have kept my mind active and been a source of information that leads me to new and exciting places. Most recently my husband and I took a couple of courses in philosophy taught by Dr. Victor Saenz. 

Somehow in spite of my own liberal arts education I had never before studied different philosophies so deeply. Learning about The great thinkers of the past and the present became a new kind of obsession for me. Along the way Dr. Saenz introduced us to the Houston Institute, a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping people think deeply about the best way to live through “robust conversations.” In that spirit the Houston Institute offers readings, monthly gatherings and debates. Among them was a spring debate concerning free will and evil. This fall the topic changed to the United States Constitution with Professors Lee Strang from Ohio State University and Mitch Berman from the University of Pennsylvania advocating for differing ways of interpreting the meanings the Constitution of the United States. 

Professor Strang defended the view of using the original meanings of the Constitution as much as possible while Professor Berman argued that the Constitution is a living document that must allow for change. Each speaker had twenty five minutes to assert his points of view, followed by fifteen minutes of refutation. With a very formal set of rules the discussion was polite and informative rather than confrontational. Each of the speakers demonstrated a high level of knowledge and understanding of Constitutional law. I ultimately sided with Dr. Berman whose arguments insisted that the Constitution must inevitably adjust to the changing times. Nonetheless, because of the calm and educated presentation of Dr. Strang I also found merit in his feeling that it is always best to begin with an assumption that ferreting the original meaning of differing aspects of the Constitution may in the long run lead to the best decisions. 

I was in awe of the knowledge of both men and our I found myself imagining taking one of their classes and reading further to develop my own understanding of the document that so radically changed the world over two centuries ago. It is remarkable how the thinking of the men involved in creating a new experiment in governing were able to contrive a system that has been up to now able to expand and grow into the defining characteristics of a a modern nation. 

I left the debate understanding how we still have work to do. Each of us needs to become more familiar with that original document and its amendments. We must be partners in developing the best aspects of the Founders’ intent. We know that much has changed since that original document was forged. We now include women and individuals who were once slaves in being active participants in the democratic processes. It should require serious consideration on the part of each of us to protect our Constitution by electing only serious individuals with as much dedication as Drs. Strang and Berman. Our discussions should be as calm and serious as the ones that they presented in the debate. We need to insist that the silliness that has seeped into our election processes cease. We need to be ready to deny office to anyone whose words and promises fly in the face of the inverted way of governing that puts the people first and foremost.  

Every candidate should first and foremost understand the warnings of our Founders who worried that there would be tyrants intent on using or ignoring the Constitution for their own power and not for the good of the people. The ridiculousness of cheap hype and fear mongering does grave harm to the very design of our nation. We have to spurn those who would have us believe that they have the power to overturn years of democratic rule by inciting revolution rather than engaging in serious discussions like the debate that I witnessed.

This was an important reminder to me that we do indeed have differing ideas about how things should be done, but those discussions need to be sane, respectful and productive. The professors both agreed that the differing points of view are not only legitimate but important for the health of our government. Sadly we have eschewed this kind of intelligent research and discovery all too often in favor of demagoguery and ignorance. it’s time we all agreed to become serious enough to do the hard work of talking and working together to come to conclusions that take each of us and the ideas of our Founding Fathers into account.  

I highly recommend that we turn off the meaningless rallies, the gotcha interviews, and the sickeningly dangerous political ads and instead ask ourselves who among the candidates has the humility and intelligence to represent the millions of diverse needs that we all have. The time for being serious is now and it will be found in mutual respect, not in whining and anger. 

I vividly remember reading The Diary of A Young Girl by Anne Frank when I was about the same age that she was at the time when she recorder her story. I flipped rapidly through the pages of the book identifying with her thoughts. I experience horror thinking about her situation, wondering how I would feel and act if I were ever in the same kind of danger. I cried uncontrollably when I read that she and her family were discovered and sent to a concentration camp. I cried even more when I learned that she did not make it out alive. Her story haunted me and left me wondering what could have possibly led to the evil of those concentration camps where so many innocents died.

I researched the history of Germany to determine how people had been able to look the other way when citizens among them were being rounded up and taken away. I could not imagine what kind of situation would foment such cold blooded disrespect for humanity. I wondered what would have happened to me or members of my family if we had lived in Germany during that time. My grandmother and mother both suffered from mental illness. Would they have been considered unworthy of life? Would my gay and lesbian friends have been rounded up along with the Jews. Would my boldness in speaking out for those being abused have earned me a berth in one of the camps? Would I have been strong enough to criticize what was happening, or would I have looked the other way, pretending not to notice?

I suppose that I never really stopped thinking about that era in Germany. It confounded me that humans were able to be so vile. Then again I realized that history repeats the kinds of horrors that occurred there with regularity. Here in the United States we enslaved people on plantations, sent Native Americans to reservations, segregated the freed slaves, abused Irish, Italian, Eastern European, and Hispanic immigrants, hated Jews, Muslims and all kinds of people for their religious beliefs, treated the LGBTQ community as though they were somehow perverse. Sometimes people from those groups actually died for no other reason than being viewed as different and therefore unworthy of living among us. 

It pains my heart to see and hear people categorize entire populations as less than, even criminal. It creates divisions and sometimes wars. Inevitably there are new Anne Franks who are hurt in spite of their innocence. I want to believe that I will always be a voice for them. I want to be the kind of person who will not quietly accept such situations or ever encourage such cruelty. 

My father-in-law warns me that my anxieties about the world as it is today will result in my death before his even though he is twenty years older than I am. He urges me to chill and just let things go because ultimately they always work out in the end. He reminds me that Hitler was defeated, the Civil Rights Bill gave all people more freedoms. While this is true I cannot abide by even one person having to endure unfounded hate on the way to what is right. To look the other way and just wait for things to eventually change for the good is not something I am able to do. I have to speak up even if it means losing friends, getting myself in good trouble. If we are all silent then we are complicit in evil and I don’t ever want to be accused of that. 

Right now I feel that a swell of hate is washing over the world and it has taken hold aggressively even in the United States of America. So many groups and individuals are being demonized by individuals running for office. Prejudices are being propagandized just as they were in Germany so long ago. I don’t know that the results will be as dire as they were for Anne Frank but there will be great and unnecessary suffering if each of us do not stand up for the worthiness of all people. Silence will result in hurt.

Many are living in social media echo chambers these days. If they only watch Fox News 24/7 or only talk with like minded people they may not even realize how horrific the situation is. I have seen it firsthand. I have heard the digs. I have even been appalled in hearing that God has sent some of the people to rid us of certain members of our society. This sends a cold chill down my spine. 

I want more than anything to believe that good people are being misled. I do not want to believe that they would be okay rounding up individuals and putting them in camps. I want to think that they truly understand the value of each person and their rights to live and believe differently. I long to know that they do not wish any harm to anyone, but somehow they have been led to believe that these “others” are dangerous. 

I say to everyone that we have to choose our leaders wisely in this moment. If we fail to grasp the seriousness of our coming election our descendants may one day be wondering how we could have been fooled into following the evil path of condemning people with labels and lies. We must look to a better future, not a darker one. We must vote for joy and love and freedom. Kamala Harris and Tim Walz are at the top of the ballot of hope. Voting for them will demonstrate that Americans will never allow hate to rule. 

My husband and I purchased our first home in nineteen seventy five. I was twenty seven years old at the time and actually felt that we were a bit late in moving from an apartment that we rented to the joys of home ownership. We found a cute place that had been impeccably maintained by its original owners. It boasted three bedrooms and one bath with a nice den in addition to the kitchen, living room and dining room. We were over the moon to be able to close the deal for nineteen thousand dollars. 

It was a great neighborhood with the most wonderful people living there that anyone might ever imagine. We joyfully brought our two daughters who were five and two years old to the place where they would spend their childhoods. They had their own bedrooms and lots of other children with whom to play. We were over the moon with happiness and that joy would only grow over the years. 

Our yard was enormous so we had plenty of room for renovations from time to time. We added a large den and enlarged the two smallest rooms by moving walls and making one space that included another bathroom. We used the old den as a bedroom as well and found a way to move the washer and dryer from the garage to the inside. Best of all we gutted the kitchen and created a modern and beautiful space for cooking and gathering with guests that made our home seem perfect. 

I loved that old house so much that I might have stayed there till the end of my days but the general area had gone down and I worried that we might one day find ourselves among strangers as our neighbors saw the same things and moved away one by one. We were lucky to net a huge profit on the sale that allowed us to move quite easily to our present home. Such was the way of home buying for most of my generation. 

Things have changed dramatically for my grandchildren. Even in Texas, which is known for its affordable home prices, that little house that was once ours in now valued at close to three hundred thousand dollars even though the neighborhood did indeed take a fairly bad dip. Some streets and homes look fine but others are rundown and in need of massive repairs. For most young first time home buyers the market is not inviting anywhere in the United States. They are more often than not renting apartments until their thirties and usually need two incomes to even think of purchasing a house. 

In some places like Maine the shortage of homes is in a state of crisis. As senior citizens live longer and healthier lives they keep their houses for much longer. When they do sell, the price tags and far beyond what many young people are able to afford. The cost of housing has risen way faster than salaries. Some people even in their forties and fifties have never owned a home and most likely never will. 

It saddens me to think that the young people that I know will have a much longer wait before they will be able to purchase a nice home with good neighbors. Some may possibly never reach a moment to have a home of their own. Somehow that American dream is growing dimmer and dimmer for countless individuals. 

So many children will endure uncertain futures simply because they are segregated from the best schools and safest neighborhoods because their parents are unable to purchase homes in the more popular areas. Surely there is a way to rectify the situation if we get experts to consider alternatives. Perhaps the answer is in creating smaller starter homes on enough land to renovate later or maybe we create programs that improve schools and conditions in older neighborhoods that have gone into a slump. For starters we also need to watch for investors who buy up houses, turn them into rentals and do little to maintain upkeep but nonetheless raise rents constantly. 

There really is no place like home and I can’t help but think that there is an innate longing in people to have a place where they feel comfortable. It does not have to be a mansion with all the bells and whistles as long as the roof does not leak and the doors and windows are secure. 

We may also consider working together as families. There is no reason to think that only a nuclear family should live together in a house. Our ancestors understood the value of having many generations under one roof. Such arrangements worked out well for everyone as they shared the limited resources that they had. Maybe that will ultimately be a doable answer to the housing problem that we face. 

I think that Kamala Harris is right in making housing a priority if she becomes President. It’s long past due for somebody to at least attempt to do something. Jimmy Carter has been building home for the poor but right now not even the young middle class is able to find what they need. We should be helping them as well.  

Maybe none of my ideas will make a difference. I’d still like to think that we are at least willing to begin brainstorming ideas. Nothing gets done by ignoring the situation.

I just finished reading Fred Trump III’s book “All In The Family.” It is a touching story of one of the most famous families in the world written by a man who interacted with the main characters from the time he was born. The story initially focuses on his father, Fred Trump, Jr., the one time golden boy of the family who was supposed to fulfill the destiny of leading his family forward. Instead his life ended in tragedy while his younger brother reached the heights of power.

Fred the third weaves a tale as American as they come in describing the first Trump who came to the United States from Germany hoping to make his fortune in the wild west after avoiding his military duty in his home country. Instead of finding gold on the ground the first Fred Trump whom the author calls Fred Zero created wealth with hospitality and services that sometimes included looking the other way as gentlemen and women got together in his rooms for something other than conversation. 

After earning enough to start a family the first Trump brought back a wife from Germany and eventually settled in New York City where his Son Fred Trump, Sr. was born. There Fred Sr. met the love of his life. a pretty immigrant from Ireland who had grown up in dire circumstances and travelled to America in the hopes of a new and better beginning. She was a delightful girl and she and Fred Sr. quickly fell in love, married and started a family that would result in five beautiful children with Fred Jr. as the most likely to run and eventually inherit his father’s real estate business which had grown into a source of wealth for the family. 

Fred Jr. was a charismatic and likable fellow but it soon enough became apparent that he cared little for the business of creating and selling real estate. He loved to fish and fly planes and be with his many friends. He dreamed of becoming an airline pilot and along the way he met a lovely stewardess and fell in love. To his dismay the family disapproved of all of his lifestyle decisions. They let it be known that his middle class wife was beneath him and that his dream of being a pilot would only make him a taxi driver in the sky. Nonetheless, Fred Jr. married the woman that he loved and attempted to launch the career that he thought would make him happy. 

Fred Jr. buckled under the pressure and ridicule of the family and began to drink heavily. Just as he was about to earn his wings as a TWA pilot he reported to duty in a drunken state and immediately lost his job. From there he seemed to devolve into an off again on again state of sorrow peppered with lots of drinking. He had two children, Fred the third and Mary. According to his son he was a good father when the demons were not haunting him. He eventually agreed to work in the family business in spite of his feelings that the work was not enjoyable in any way. 

Fred Jr. tried and tried to do well but he and his father seemed to always be at odds. He found solace in alcohol again and again eventually driving away his wife who had once loved him deeply. He was a tortured man who ended up living in his parents’ attic where he became more and more ill. He died when he was just past forty years old leaving his son, Fred the third, to grieve for the father that he had always loved. 

Fred the third graduated from college, found a job of his own in real estate, married and began his own family. He clung to his grandparents and aunts and uncles because he saw them as his lifeline after his father had died. He enjoyed Sunday dinners with them and sharing milkshakes with his grandmother. He played golf with his uncles and believed that he was as loved as any member of the family. 

Fred the third and his wife a had two very healthy children, a daughter and a son. Then his wife became pregnant with a third baby. Before the boy was born Fred Sr, the grandfather, died. The family asked Fred the third to deliver the eulogy at the funeral. He poured his heart into crafting the words that he hoped would describe his love for his grandfather and for the rest of the family. He was so sincere in capturing the essence of Fred Sr. that there was not a dry eye in the church after he spoke. 

Shortly thereafter Fred the third’s second son was born. At first he appeared to be a big healthy child but soon enough signs of terrible problems began. The boy, William, would have severe neurological problems that caused seizures and developmental disorders. They would continue for all of his life, requiring home healthcare, treatments, medications and too many visits to the hospital to count. 

What Fred the third did not know when he spoke at his grandfather’s funderal was that his aunts and uncles under the influence of his Uncle Donald had conspired to have their father change his will. It had always been written that when Fred Sr. died his wife would receive one half of his wealth and the remaining would be divided evenly between his five children. In the event that one of his children had died, the share would go to his grandchildren from that branch of the family tree. 

Donald was dealing with massive debts from his failed businesses and his recent divorce from his first wife, Ivana. He was concerned about where he was going to find the money to protect his holdings. His first attempt was to add a codicil to his father’s will that would have made it impossible for anyone to take his share to pay his debts. Unfortunately for him Fred Sr. would not sign. The next move was to convince first his siblings and then his father that giving a one fifth share to Fred the third and his sister Mary would be a disaster because their mother would no doubt take charge of the funds and use them for her personal welfare. The others agreed and then with pressure Fred Sr who was in the early stages of dementia also agreed. Fred Jr’s share of the will was taken away from his children in one fell swoop. 

The story continues through the death of Fred the thirds grandmother and his uncle’s rise to the highest office in the land. Fred the third loved his family and worked hard to regain their graces. It was more important to him to have them in his life than to let bad feelings fester over money. His focus was on family and most especially his disabled son. The final break for him came when his Uncle Donald told him that he should just let his son die and then move to Florida. In that moment Fred the third realized the depth of depravity that had festered in the Trump clan. For the first time he felt compelled to tell his side of the story. 

It is a good read. I cried many times when turning the pages. I wish Fred Trump III and his family all the best. I think that he is a kind man who lost his father all too soon and struggled to stay close to the family that meant so much to him. It is a shame that they did not seem to have the same kind of love and compassion for him. It is a saga of how the members of his family became the kind of people who had no compunction in cheating and ignoring two innocent young people who needed their love and support but instead were coldly ignored.

No man is an island, entire of itself. —John Dunne

Each of us is but a simple thread in the grand tapestry of humanity. Without the varying colors, stitches, diameter of the strings the creation is dull, simply a kind of utilitarian blanket. With the many differences we become a work of art, something stunning and precious. We need each other even when we falsely believe that we do not. 

Think of your families and the great variety in which common DNA has come together to change the colors of the eyes, the textures of the hair, the facial characteristics and fingerprints that are unique to each of us. Then consider the talents that we each bring to support the welfare of our familial group. If not for our differences we would be doomed to seeing each other as only mirrors of ourselves. Our lives would be so boring, so repetitive. 

Then consider the community in which you reside. It is obvious that we need everyone who is contributing to the efficient running of things. We require people of many talents. There is beauty in every shade of skin, every hue of the eyes. We instinctively know that variety is essential to our very survival.

Sometimes we become insular. Insisting that our city or state or nation does not need anything from outside its borders. Perhaps this made more sense in the days when travel and communication from one place to another was more difficult, but in today’s world such an idea is not just impossible, it is actually absurd. Much like the proverbial butterfly flapping its wings in Africa we are affected by happenings and issues from all over the world. A war in Ukraine threatens the safety of our allies which in turn threatens our own well being. Fighting in the Middle East has an impact on our lives even when we choose to ignore it. The cost of everything that we use is impacted by economies all over the world. We are no more an island than our nation is. Isolating ourselves does not erase the inevitable influences on our daily lives. 

My high school English teacher was a learned and well read man. He understood the need to make us more aware of the world outside of our neighborhood. He introduced us to literature, art, national magazines, a world of possibilities. Through our reading we saw the people from Africa as individuals so much like ourselves. We saw the same hopes and dreams and difficulties playing out in characters all over the world. He took us to see plays that were written over a thousand years ago by Greeks whose hearts beat for the same reasons that ours do today. We cried over the Trojan women who had lost their husbands and lovers in war as though we were learning about neighbors who had been killed. He told us that we we then and always should be citizens of the world. He understood the interlocking pieces of humanity that have always been essential to life. 

I know that the resources on our planet are limited. I understand that I must be aware of the needs of others before hoarding up stores for myself. I believe that if we do not share, if we are profligate and wasteful we will surely destroy this beautiful blue orb that we call our home. There is plenty enough to get by without being selfish or gluttonous. Thinking beyond our homes and into the community of humanity should not be considered something immoral. Instead we should always ask ourselves what more we can do for those who are struggling. 

During the pandemic we Americans were given the gift of vaccinations at no cost. Most of us did not stop to think about nations with medical deserts where refrigeration for the vaccines were unavailable but a kind doctor from my city did. Dr. Peter Hotez worried about the sick and dying in faraway places and set to work with a colleague creating an old school Covid vaccine that could be taken to the remotest areas without need of refrigeration. When he found the right formula he gave it away without cost. He made no money on the deal. It was absolutely free. For his efforts some lauded him, even nominating him for the Nobel Peace prize. Sadly others harassed and threatened him, accusing him of vile intentions. A man who should have been universally honored now has to walk with a security guard to insure that nobody will be able to follow through with the violence that they want to inflict on him. 

We would all do well to heed the poetic advice of John Dunne. None of us are or should be islands. We belong to the entirety of humankind. It is up to us to embrace our fellow humans and work together against the evil forces of want, hunger, war, and violence. If enough of us begin to fully understand our responsibility to each other the world inches closer and closer to a unified and beautiful place.