All It Takes Is A Little Love

I woke up on my seventy sixth birthday feeling pensive. There is a great deal on my mind these days, a kind of heaviness that I don’t usually encounter on the days surrounding my entrance into this world. For most of my life November 18, has been a day of great celebration as I realize that most of my worries are silly and of my own making. I am a ninety-ninth percentile introvert which means that I spend a great deal of time in my head creating “what if” scenarios that rarely become as dire as I have sometimes imagined. At this moment I can’t help thinking that much of what I cherish most about my long life may in fact be in danger. The only other time I recall feeling this way on my birthday was in the same year that my father died when I turned nine years old. 

My life and that of my family was literally turned upside down by my father’s death. Suddenly we were catapulted into a world so very different from what I had ever expected. Nobody ever predicts the sudden death of a man in his early thirties and yet there we were living in a constant state of uncertainty that sent me more inside my thoughts and worries than I have ever been. On top of a total lifestyle change I had to endure the cruelties of a teacher who lacked compassion and understanding for me and my classmates. All in all I remember feeling nothing as my birthday approached beyond a sense of doom. 

That is the moment when my dear mother came to my rescue just as she would always tend to do. She somehow managed to purchase and hide a brand new Schwinn bicycle for me that helped me feel joyful, free and independent from the worries that had built up in my mind. Somehow she knew what I needed to restore just a bit of joy and normalcy in my life. That bike became symbolic of the control and steadiness that had been missing in the months since my father’s death. He had after all been the one who patiently taught me how to keep my balance when the training wheels had been removed from the smaller bike that I had outgrown. Advancing to a full sized bicycle not only reminded me of the many things that my father had taught me, but also showed me that my mother understood the importance of helping me move forward in my life. It was indeed the perfect gift in a moment when I was beginning to lose hope.

I rode that bike into my teen years. it conveyed me to parks, libraries, homes of friends. it gave me freedom to be myself and to celebrate just being alive. It helped me to realize the  joy and confidence that was always there inside me. 

On birthday seventy-six the bulk of my life is behind me. Now both my father and mother are gone. I think of the lessons that they taught me and I suppose that in my musings I find that the world is in a very dangerous place.

My father showed me the power of reading and learning. My mother taught me to importance of kindness and compassion for my fellow humans. These things taken together warn me that we are embarking on a very dangerous time in history. A man who seems unlikely to think rather than to vengefully react will soon be our president. He has vowed to expel millions of immigrants and to punish those who have voiced opposition to his ideas and actions. It feels like a very dark and uncertain time once again. I have known such dire feelings and they make me anxious for my daughters and my grandchildren and all of the beautiful students whom I have taught. I worry that the wonderful world that I have known will change in the most terrible of ways. I sense that I must do something but I do not yet know what that might be. 

I long to feel the gentleness of my mother and the wisdom of my father in unravelling my fears. I want to ride my blue bike with into the wind somehow fixing everything that now seems so unfixable. I want to see that I have been silly in being afraid of the man leading us who reminds me so much of that horrific teacher who seemed only to care about herself. I wonder if seventy six year old me can be part of setting things right again for surely this is not a time to wallow in fear and sadness. 

The signs point to trouble for the United States and for the world. An immoral man has been chosen to lead us. He is selecting immoral people to loyally helped him to upend our democratic traditions. He wants to rule with an iron fist, get even with anyone who has ever opposed him, break rules, attack the foundations of our Constitution. 

This time I am not just in my own head. Good and wise men and women are as worried as I am. Mine are not the imaginings of a nine year old child. I have a lifetime of experiences on which to rely. I will blow out the candles on my birthday cake and make a wish that we will be able to stop this man from taking down our security and our freedom simply because he is angry. Then I will do whatever it takes to make my wish come true. I have learned that we each have to take charge of even the most horrific situations. I am ready!

As a career math teacher I know a bit about variables and constants. There are actually of lot of them in the real world. We often vary quite a bit in our political beliefs. I suppose that each of our viewpoints have been affected by a lifetime of experiences. One thing that is a solid constant for me is my genuine affection and love for my family and friends. That never changes even when we are at extreme odds in how we vote in elections. A single individual or moment in time will never be enough for me to turn my back on the people who have walked with me throughout my life. 

For most of the many decades that I have been on this planet I have kept my voting habits to myself. When I was about seven years old I remember riding on my bicycle with my best friend, Lynda, next to me shouting, “I like Ike!” I knew little about him aside from the fact that he had done a great job as a general in World War II and he looked like a nice man. I really had little reason to worry one way or another about who would become president. I took it for granted that whomever the American people chose would probably be an okay guy. 

I high school I participated in a debate during the election when Lyndon Johnson and Barry Goldwater were running for the highest office in the land. I advocated for Johnson mostly because he was from Texas. I wasn’t old enough to vote at that time and the argument for or against each candidate felt theoretical rather than gravely important. I can’t even remember who among my classmates were on which side. I was just glad that I got a good grade for my efforts. 

After that I mostly kept my political leanings close to my chest, especially when I became a teacher. Contrary to popular belief most of us in classrooms were quite careful not to attempt to influence our students one way or another about either elections or religion. Sometimes other teachers or some of my students would ask whom I favored and I never was willing to speak about that. I did not think that it was my place to discuss such things in my classroom. I kept to the variables and constants of Algebra rather than politics. 

It has been recent years when somehow we all began to visibly and vocally choose a side. It was the first time that I actually knew how each of my friends and family members allied themselves politically. It was the first time we actually talked with each other about such things. There were a number of surprises as the revelations presented themselves. As far as I was concerned it did not matter whether or not we were unified in our thinking. My attitude was “to each his own,” but surprisingly people began to question and even make fun of my personal beliefs. The whole process of choosing and voting became a volatile topic. There were far too many things that must not be said. Sadly there were even times when long time relationships fell apart simply because we disagreed. 

I refuse to accept that. While my ideals are important to me the constancy of my love and concern for the people who have shared my journey with me will never vary. They can call me out and even choose to ignore me, but I will continue to love them nonetheless. I suppose that they just do not understand how much more important they are to me than choosing a particular person to govern us. Politicians come and go, friends and family are forever. 

We may never completely understand each other, but hasn’t that been the way of things from the beginning of time? The best aspect of living in a democracy is that we don’t have to tow a particular line. We can be different and it is okay. I have my reasons for believing what I do and others have theirs. Each experience that I have had and each person whom I have met has influenced my perspective. I have my reasons for advocating the ways in which I do. They are deeply personal just as I know that everyone’s leanings are. 

My dream is a big one given the way things now stand. I would like to think that we will get past the bickering and one day evolve into a society in which our main goal is to work together, make sacrifices together. Our world is begging us to be civil because if we are only capable of demanding and arguing we will surely descend into a hell of our own making. We have to stop the talk of civil wars and determine how we might find reasonable compromises that fairly include everyone. We may all have to admit that our extravagances and wasteful ways will surely destroy our planet. We should strive to be the adults in the room whose desire is to make the world a better place for all of our children, not by being afraid of each other but by getting to know and understand and love each other. We are not school yard kids choosing sides and throwing rocks. Our time here and now demands that we be the kind of caretakers who will leave things better than they were when we arrived. We can do that without driving each other apart. 

I have big dreams in my heart that we can be very different and still be friends and still make progress. I think of the infinite possibilities because I know a bit about that as well. The time to make that happen is today. As Emily Dickinson so poetically said, “Forever Is Composed of Nows!” Let’s seize the moment!

If the wind will not serve, take to the oars. —-Latin proverb

I tend to be a determined person. I try not to let any situation overtake me. My instinct is to keep trying even when my efforts seem to be in vain. At times it can be daunting to be that way but I have a good cry or maybe even a fit of anger. Then I take a deep breath and resume my efforts once again.

I remember a summer when I was attempting to learn how to do a twirling routine that involved throwing my baton into the air, spinning around and catching it behind my back just as it floated down to earth. I must have felt the pain of the baton hitting me on the head so many times that I am still in wonder that I did not sustain some kind of brain injury. My brothers would probably maintain that I actually did some damage to myself because only a crazy person would have kept doing the same action over and over again without much change. While it did in fact seem bizarre, I eventually perfected my technique so that I was able to perform that trick with grace. 

That was perhaps a small and somewhat insignificant example of my resolve. Since those days of my youth my can do attitude has allowed me to learn and understand difficult concepts in school that at first were like gibberish to me. I have overcome my innate shyness so that I might speak naturally in front of a crowded audience. I’ve managed to do things that were so frightening to me that I thought I would surely faint as I pushed myself to overcome my lack of courage. Nevertheless I still struggle to face death and suffering head on. Tragedies crush me to the point of wanting to hide away in my home with the blinds and curtains drawn, pretending that such sorrows do not exist. What I know for certain, however, is that most times there is no looking the other way. 

This month has placed me squarely in the cross hairs of my most dreaded challenges. Every single week I have learned of someone that I have known who has died or who is dealing with a scary illness or a personal situation that is daunting. On a wider level it is so difficult to read the news of death by wars, violence by sick individuals, poverty and starvation of innocents. I have to remind myself that I have a certain duty to do what I can to comfort them. I have to view their difficulties as graver than my own reluctance to let go of the feelings that tempt me to run away from sorrow. I have to remember the special people who have made themselves available for me when I needed them. I have to take a deep breath, wipe my own tears away and keep working to bring a bit of solace to the world around me. 

I have been so fortunate in almost every aspect of my life. I learned from my mother that sharing good fortune is something we must always do. I have been the recipient of cupcakes from a neighbor after I had surgery, soup from a friend when I was sick, flowers from a coworker when my mother died, a sweet card from an acquaintance for no reason other than to make me feel good. I know what great empathy and compassion are. I have witnessed kind acts from the very best people at such things. Sometimes I have to push myself to set aside my own tears and frustrations at what I witness and become the person who brings a moment of succor to the people whose tragedies are bringing me down. It is not a time to selfishly wallow in an emotional state, but rather to keep practicing the good works that have been shown to me. Even if I feel like I am being hit over the head with an object hurling erratically toward me, I have to keep going, keep trying to be unselfish and caring. 

Death is an inevitable visitor to all of us. Sickness comes our way whether we try our best to avoid it or not. Tragedies are happening even when we sleep. They are a part of life but not to be ignored because whatever is happening makes us feel uncomfortable. We often have to find courage that we do not believe that we have when things get tough for others.

We innately know that no man is an island. We live in a family, a community, a society, the world. We owe it to others to demonstrate our concern for them other even when that is difficult and requires sacrifices that we don’t want to have to make. It takes practice to know how to be. It takes determination to set aside our fears.

I have a wonderful cousin named Leonard who has spent his entire life doing unto others as he would have them do unto him. We always knew that Leonard would show up for every graduation, wedding, birth, funeral. No RSVP was needed. He was going to be wherever any phase of life was taking place among his acquaintances, friends and family. These days he does it with a walker since breaking a hip has left him hobbling along. He’s always present whether the life event is pleasant or difficult. He brings with a great big loving smile a lots of encouragement wherever he goes. 

I suppose that I need to practice being more like Leonard. I must learn how to set aside my personal aversion of being in a sorrowful place. I must remind myself that such times are never about me. If I truly love, then I cannot run away. I know I have it in me to practice until I get it right every single time. All those people who are experiencing difficulties are counting on someone like me to help them through the worst moments of their lives. I have to be determined to do what is right. I have to take to the oars! I suppose that it is something that we all must do.  

There is anger in our land. It is loud and upsetting. Many are frightened by those that they do not know. They want to cast them out from their midst. It is difficult for them to trust people whose ways of speaking or living or believing seem so different from their own. They wonder if they or their loved ones will be safe around them. They ask why they should sacrifice for people who seem to be so strange. 

They have chosen someone to rid the land of those who do not seem to belong. He is an angry spiteful man who lies to them, but he echoes their fears so surely he will do the work that they dread. He will cast out the unfamiliar souls that they do not care to get to know. They think that he will be their protector even as they can see that he may be only protecting and enriching himself. 

They balk at being called xenophobic. They are not even sure what that word means. It sounds like something a haughty person who does not understand them might say. They are not aware that xenia is from an ancient Greek word that means friendship with a guest who is a stranger. It expresses the idea that each of us has an obligation to offer kindness even to those that we do not know. It is the foundation of the message of Jesus who was born in a manger in a strange land. It offers the idea that the person that we do not know among us may be Ulysses returning home changed and alien after twenty years of wandering. It may be a baby who has been sent by God to be our savior. Xenia tells us that we would do well to welcome the refugee, the trans woman, the poor and homeless, the people who are looking for refuge in our midst.

But we call the angry people xenophobic because instead of attempting to befriend those who are different from them they want to cast them out, to shame them and accuse them of being evil before even knowing them. Phobia is also from a Greek word that means fear or dislike of people or things or ideas that appear to be different or strange . It is the opposite of the idea of xenia. 

From the beginning of time humans have been taunted by power seekers playing on their fears. Even the ancient Greeks new of such tendencies. They wrote about it and fought over it. We are not unlike the ancestors from long ago. That baby in the manger came to be known as Jesus and his one and only commandment was filled with compassion and xenia. His words were direct and should be easy to understand, we must love one another even as we love ourselves. He listed no exceptions, named no group or person that we should spurn or hate and yet we become fearful and turn on our fellow humans again and again making excuses for our unwillingness to always be loving and welcoming even to strangers. 

The angry man who has been elected to soothe our fears is wrong. He is not sent from God to save us. He wants to do bad things. He wants vengeance, He wants us to turn on each other. We must not let him tear us apart. We must understand that it is in our natures to be fearful but it is also in our natures to learn and change and share our love and our good fortune. We can be our best together if only we try. We must stop the hateful man from ruining what is best about us. 

I went to a poetry reading. A gifted writer named Ryan Wilson offered the following words for us. These words spoke to me. They relate to our present condition. They suggest the struggles that we have to embrace xenia but show us what we must do. Think of what xenia means as you read this. Find the beautiful message. Be inspired. Then challenge yourself to do the right thing.

Xenia

One day a silent man arrives

At your door in an outdated suit,

Threadbare and black, like a lost mourner

Or a Bible salesman who’s been robbed.

Penniless, he needs a place to stay.

And you, magnanimous you, soon find

This stranger reading in your chair,

Eating your cereal, drinking your tea,

Or standing in your clothes at the window

Awash in afternoon’s alien light.

You tire of his constant company.

Your floorboards creak with his shuffling footfalls,

Haunting dark rooms deep in the night.

You lie awake in blackness, listening,

Cursing the charity or pride

That opened up the door for him

And wonder how to explain yourself.He smells like durian and smoke

But it’s mostly his presence, irksome, fogging

The mind up like breath on a mirror . . .

You practice cruelty in a mirror,

Then practice sympathetic faces.

You ghoul.

Your cunning can’t deceive you.

You are afraid to call your friends

For help, knowing what they would say.

It’s just you two.

You throw a fit when

He sneaks water into the whisky bottle,

Then make amends.

You have no choice

Except to learn humility,

To love this stranger as yourself,

Who won’t love you, or ever leave.

——Ryan Wilson

When I was in my second year of teaching I learned the meaning of unintended consequences in a most unfortunate way. I had undergone training regarding the district rules for both teachers and students which were said to be hard and fast. One of them insisted that any student found with smoking paraphernalia while on campus was to be reported and punished with time in the Alternative Learning Center. While the rule seemed to be a case of overkill to me I thought little more about it until a number of students came to me one day reporting that they had seen a pack of cigarettes inside a girl’s purse. 

Bear in mind that the girl that they told me about was perhaps the most outstanding person in my class. She was polite, followed the rules and made excellent grades. She was a model of what we want our young to be and yet I was faced with a conundrum because all of my students had read and signed the Student Handbook which specifically told then what would happen to anyone bringing cigarettes to school. I had to seek consul with the principal hoping that there would be some leniency in dealing with the situation. In fact, the girl told me while in tears that her teenage brother had put the cigarettes in her purse over the weekend when he did not want his parents to see the evidence that he was smoking. Sadly the two of them forgot to get the offending items out of the purse. It was only once the girl was at school looking for a pen to work on a lesson that she and those around her saw the offending items. 

The principal was as concerned about the situation for the young lady as I was so she called the Administration Office to get an official reading of what to do. Much to the disappointment of both of us, the powers that be held firm to the rule, telling us there could be no exceptions for any reason. The sweet child was sent to the Alternative Learning Center of four weeks where she sat in the midst of some of the most hardcore troublemakers in the district. I was terrified for her but also realized that what was supposed to be a rule to protect her and others had actually turned into an unfair nightmare. 

Thus it is with many of the plans that Donald Trump insists he will put into place almost immediately. I have outlined the difficulties for so many of his ideas but I will start with only a few of them beginning with mass deportations. 

The cost of such a huge endeavor has already been mentioned but I don’t think anyone really has a proportional sense of how truly expensive it will be to hire additional employees for Border Patrol, to send officers on hunts for the illegals, to provide a place to hold the people pending transportation out of the country, to pay for that transportation, to inform the countries where they will be sent to expect their arrival. For that matter there is a big question as to whether or not the various nations will even accept the return of so many people. It will not be nearly as simple as just proclaiming that it will happen. 

Another important economic blowback that few have considered is what will happen when the immigrants quit doing jobs that are quite important to each of us. Who will do their work? How much will it cost to hire employees who are not so desperate that they will work for peanuts? What happens when these people leave the homes and apartments that they have been renting? Will the landlords suddenly find themselves with empty properties and a much lowered income flow? How will we make up for the sales taxes that these people have been paying. Where will the additional funding come from? What programs will suffer? What kind of realignment in schools will force districts to lay off teachers, suspend funding for books and supplies?

Then there is Trump’s promise to shut down the Department of Education. Most citizens have little idea how many important programs in schools are funded by the federal government. Many recent strides made in serving our disabled students will be taken away. Programs for autistic children will be on the chopping block. Tutoring and afterschool programs may have to go. Extra money for science labs, classroom books and magazines will be gone. Few understand the extent of extra help our schools get from the Department of Education. 

A big push for school choice through vouchers that Trump and other Republicans find attractive is also filled with problems that few consider. The average amount of state funding per student in Texas is about ten thousand dollars. It is probable that vouchers will provide no more than that amount and possibly even less. The cost of most good private schools in Texas begins at $20,000 per year and increases as the quality and reputation of the school goes up. In addition most of those schools require entrance exams and admissions are based on standards that limit who will be invited to attend. Sadly far too may voters think that a voucher program will allow them to send their children to private schools without cost and the truth is that they will find themselves paying tens of thousands of dollars if their children can even meet the admissions standards. 

I bring these things up because I hear people talking enthusiastically about the many things that Donald Trump is boasting that he will do that will indeed have many unintended consequences that those who voted for him may or may not have considered. The massive changes that he is espousing will each have their share of impacts that will not be what everyone expected. It’s wise to think things through before jumping off a cliff. I learned that with teaching and I fear that the public will soon learn it with the plans that Trump is vowing to set in motion very soon. My warning is, “Buyer beware!”