All It Takes Is A Little Love

I like to think that I am in the autumn of my life. It also happens to be my favorite season. Maybe that’s because I celebrate my birthday in the fall and so do most of my grandchildren. My wedding anniversary is in this time of year as well. It’s a happy prelude filed with all the colors, tastes, aromas and sounds that I love. After the long hot summers of Texas, fall is a welcome change with sometimes cool mornings and evenings that require a sweater or a light blanket. On the best days I can light a fire in our fireplace and find luscious tangerines in the produce department at the store. Best of all pumpkin pies and pumpkin cheesecakes are everywhere. 

There are lots of fun places and events that happen each fall and I don’t have to worry as much about weeds growing in my garden so I have the time to enjoy it all. I like to visit the ocean and spend time at the annual bulb and flower mart. I finally feel cool enough to walk around my neighborhood or sit in my backyard watching the birds skittering about. Everything is more fun without the blazing sun that burns my skin and makes me feel hot and impatient to get back inside.

Autumn is a time for family and remembering, a time for contemplation and thanksgiving. It’s the season of my life when I have been taking stock of what I have done and what I think I may still need to do before winter comes and I am no longer as able as I now am. The reality is that the springs and summers of my youth are behind me. There is no turning back. Winter will come but for now I want to revel in autumn. I still teach and tutor just as I always have at this time of year. I turn aging bananas into delightful bread. So too do I enjoy each moment of each day and continue to learn something new as I travel through the changes of life. 

I embrace my autumn. It is a time when all of senses feel alive and I feel no guilt in wasting an entire day reading a book or writing about a bit of nonsense. I’ve earned this moment to be carefree and joyful. Who knows what tomorrow my bring? Storms may come my way. Winter may arrive sooner than I had hoped. Life will change again so I want to savor each moment in the now.

I have decorated my home just as I always do. I have pumpkins of orange, yellow, green and brown. A wreath with colorful leaves in on my door. My tables is set with woven placemats that hold the stews and soups that I make for dinner. I have candles that smell of apples and spices. My home looks and feels its loveliest at this time of year. It is as though it has been waiting for me to return the vibrancy that autumn brings. 

My mother always seemed to stay well in the fall. Maybe that’s another reason that I love it so. We would almost forget her bipolar disorder. She would be happy and serene all the way through Christmas before another bad time came along. She too felt calmer and more in tune with the surroundings much like I have always done when autumn roll around. She and I had so much fun together from September to December. 

I love the clothes that I wear in the fall. I like my short boots and light sweaters. I actually look rather nice in brown and some shades of orange. I always fell into the autumn ranges in those color classifications that used to be all the rage at home makeup parties. I look washed out in the pastels of spring and the summer shades are not much better for me. Even my hair seems to be totally meant for this time of year. 

On a more serious note I suppose that I am in the autumn of my health. Things are are wearing out, sagging and falling. Hips and backs and knees are complaining when I work too much. I poop out much more quickly than I once did. My eyes are not as sharp, my hands are not as strong . I suspect that cataract surgery is in my future and nobody mistakes me for a young woman anymore. I am slower at completing tasks but I am still capable of doing it all, just not quickly.

I often think that those of us who are Baby Boomers are overdue in just easing into autumn and enjoying quieter lives. We can’t and should not keep trying to run the world. It’s time for the young folk who are still enjoying the summer of life to take the lead. They have some great ideas and they deserve a chance to demonstrate them. We can offer wisdom if they ask but we should not force ourselves on them. If we did a good job of bringing them along they will surely be just fine. 

I saw a wonderful quote in the fall issue of Magnolia magazine that really captures how am am feeling in this moment so here it is for you to enjoy as well:

Remember, nature whispers, there is time for all. Soften the urgency and move with ease, patience is your ally on this journey of change.

History fascinates me. Human nature often confounds me. As a quiet and peace loving individual I am unable to understand what causes hate and violence. Of course I have become angry at times, but I can’t even begin to imagine thinking that the answer to any problems I face might come in the form of hurting someone. 

I still remember the first time I learned about the cause of World War I and the repercussions of that infamous struggle that should have been the war to end all wars. A strange and tense set of alliances set off a chain reaction when Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo. The death of the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne meant that countries the world over would line up as allies to fight each other for reasons that were not always clear. Even as a young girl looking back on an event that rocked the world I had difficulty understanding how anything was solved by the assassination and the war that followed it. The bloody violence seemed to solve nothing. 

Hindsight makes it easy to see the danger barreling down on humanity. It’s more difficult to see the horrors coming before they happen. So we repeat the mistakes and animosities again and again. Somehow terrible people lurk among us and we tend to ignore their warning behaviors until it is too late. Our lack of due diligence allows evil to breed.

Of course it would be exhausting and perhaps even impossible to be so observant that we would be able to forestall every tragedy. Life and people are far too complex to be able to predict who will cause irreparable harm. In fact if we were to become too cautious we might find ourselves in a dystopian and paranoid world. Our only hope is to be observant on the personal level, to look for signs that an individual is so troubled that he or she is in need of professional intervention. Even then our efforts may be inadequate in quelling violent behaviors. Sometimes we simply have to remove the most violent from our midst. 

We may believe that for the most part we are helpless and that evil and destruction are simply an inevitable part of being human. Studying our human history would make such an assumption seem reasonable when one of the earliest accountings from the Bible speaks of Cain murdering his brother, Abel. Still, we would be wrong to feel that there is nothing we can do to quell the horrors that we see happening all around the world. Perhaps we are contributing to the problem by ignoring the measures that we might take to make things better. 

Yesterday I wrote about our need to seriously and unselfishly discuss the rising tide of violence in our country with a willingness to make sacrifices to protect each other from the growing fears of becoming victims of murderous anger. Ironically, in the interim one of our presidential candidates was saved from what appears to be a botched assassination attempt. Looking at the story of the man who seemed intent on using bullets rather than the ballot to rid our nation of Donald Trump provides us with insights into how we might stop such individuals before they get as far as hiding in the brush with intent to kill. 

The signs that this man was a threat to society have been out in the open for quite some time. He has a long and detailed rap sheet that points to someone who seriously cannot control his urges to harm others. Why he remained free to purchase and own guns is a huge question. Why he only got slapped on the hand with his mounting tendencies toward violence is disturbing. His behavior was strange enough that a reporter for The New York Times found him wrote a story about him in which his dangerous nature was clearly in view and yet it was ignored. All of which points to total failure in both our justice and mental health systems. 

Then we have the dangerous rhetoric, misinformation and outright lies of our political landscape. When renowned doctors are threatened for using their expertise to guide us through epidemics we should all be concerned. When innocent groups are being targeted with lies that endanger their safety we should insist that the perpetrators of the racist commentaries be publicly scolded by all of us. We have people in our midst who are blatantly fanning the fires of anger, ginning up the darkest of emotions. We look the other way and proclaim that it’s just the way it is, then grow horrified when some crazed soul acts on the taunts. 

We can do better than this but instead we take the bait and hurl insults at each other. We cling to conspiracy theories instead of doing some research to find out the truth. We allow a man who would lead us to post that he hates Taylor Swift without demanding that such a comment should never be made public because it most certainly unfairly endangers her life. 

We have washed our hands in innocence of all the furor that seems to happen so quickly that one terrible event bleeds into another. Still, we do have the power to make the changes that we need but only if we are willing to be calm, truthful and ready to move beyond the dark mistakes of the past. We don’t have to fight to get things done. We can work together, give and take, respect each other and learn to live in peace with each other. The ugly and violent way of living that has become so commonplace must stop now. It is up to each of us to demand more…period, end of story, full stop!

I know a young woman who recently returned from working in Paris. She made many friends there who keep in contact with her hoping that one day she will return. They also worry that she will be shot by a mass shooter. Such is the reputation of the United States in other parts of the world. They see the endless headlines of assassination attempts, school shootings, crazed shooters at malls, movie theaters, concerts and they wonder why we Americans do nothing to stem the tide of violence. 

Another dear friend of mine retired from teaching and moved to her homeland in India. She has grandchildren who have lived all over the world and she has enjoyed visiting with them in places like Tokyo Japan, Vienna Austria, South Korea. Now her loved ones live in Switzerland in a very peaceful town Her oldest grandson is heading off to college in the United States, a place where she and her children once lived and worked. She should be excited for his new adventure but there is a part of her that worries about him. She wonders if he will be safe from the epidemic of violence that seems to only grow in our nation. 

As a teacher, mom, grandmother, and good neighbor I have felt the anger and sorrow following shooting incidents in our country. I have participated in drills and talked with my students about tactics to use in the event that our location might come under siege. I have rushed through the hallways of a school with a walkie talkie urging students and teachers to get inside classrooms and lock doors with news that a shooter might be on campus. I have felt my heart beating rapidly as I worried that the danger in that moment was real and not just another practice session. I have wondered if I would do the right things to protect my students and faculty members if the worst ever happened.

I now find myself scanning the environment wherever I go. In movie theaters I look for the exits and imagine myself lying face down on the floor. In stores I look to see if there are places to hide. It has become an instinct now that I do not mention to anyone. It only takes a few seconds of my time to consider possibilities for being safe no matter what happens and then I go back to real life and forget about my fears. 

I know a man whose son was shot and killed in an incident of road rage. I have a former student who was at the concert in Las Vegas that ended up in a bloodbath. I have seen how they were forever changed by these horrific moments. They never really get over the horror and the loss. 

I have not become immune to the feelings that rise up each time I hear of a shooting somewhere. I shed tears and feel angry and helpless. I think of the families of those who die. I think of the survivors and how their worlds have been so suddenly turned upside down. I think of how difficult it has become for parents to leave their children at school each morning without worrying about their safety in ways that never would have occurred to me when my own sweet daughters were little. I wonder how often teachers now consider the possibility of danger in their classrooms. I grieve again and again and again believing that nothing will change, that we will never get serious about solving this problem. We seem to be unwilling to make sacrifices strong enough to bring a halt to the insidious problem that stalks us over and over again. 

I do pray. My thoughts are with the victims and the survivors but I know that this is not enough. We can put fences around campuses and steel doors on the buildings and arm everyone, but those are not solutions. They are merely passive defenses. Not all the moats in the world will stop the killing but getting control of the proliferation of guns and being as serious about mental health as we are about heart disease and cancer will be good first steps. Until we are willing to admit that protecting our freedom to bear arms to the excess that now exists is the main reason that we have and epidemic of violence nothing will change. 

We will moan and groan for briefer and briefer times and then quickly move on until the next incident. We will argue again and again about who is at fault and pay lip service to real solutions. We will continue to allow nothing to happen because it is too difficult to admit that we are to blame for allowing things to get so far out of hand. 

Ironically each time there is any kind of mass shooting gun and ammunition sales increase. We worry about the meaning of Christmas being modernized and then see greeting cards with photos of families bearing arms. We have members of Congress who wear AR15 pins on their lapels as though defying any efforts to take those dangerous weapons off of our streets. We no longer have just the wild west. Every place in America feels as wild as ever. 

I honestly do not know what to do anymore but I will not be silent on this issue. I will work with the families and survivors of shootings. I will tell my Congressman and Senator that I expect him or her to do something about this. I will vote for those willing to face the issues and present ideas for stemming the killing. I can’t just wipe away my tears and look away. The violence will continue to escalate until we focus honestly and seriously on what must be done. 

In the long ago, when we were young and energetic, my husband and I agreed to travel to New Orleans in a caravan with my brother on the spur of the moment. We had little time to pack some extra clothes and head out of town after dark. Since the drive from Houston was about five hours long we realized that we would be arriving at our destination in the middle of the night. 

Somehow we were not the least bit worried about becoming drowsy or finding ourselves running out of gasoline in a small town where everything closes up not long after the sun goes down. We were on a grand adventure that pulled us down the highway without a care in the world. 

Everything went well until we suddenly had to stop behind a long line of cars. At first there seemed to be no reason for the delay but then we noticed people combing through the underbrush on the side of the road. As we scanned the area we saw a chair broken into pieces, some children’s toys, and clothes lying on the branches of small trees. It was a curious and ominous site. 

My husband exited from the car to see what was happening as did my brother who was just ahead of us. They came back to report that a vehicle pulling a travel trailer had somehow careened off of the road. The people wandering in the weeds were searching for the members of the family who had been in the car and apparently had been thrown out into the darkness. Soon my brother and husband would join them, disappearing into the darkness.

I remember bursting into tears as I thought of the poor souls whose wreckage was strewn all around us. I prayed that everyone would be safely found. The wait in that traffic jam lasted for what seemed hours as the highway patrol and civilians alike worked diligently to find and identify anyone who might have been hurt. I stayed with my children who by then were sleeping peacefully in the back seat of our car. I watched the unfolding drama with growing anxiety coupled with relief as people were brought out one by one on stretchers still very much alive. 

I was impressed by the total devotion to the emergency that kept the search and rescue process going with so much cooperation and concern. Nobody seemed angry to be stuck on the crowded road that was not moving for miles. Eventually we learned that the members of the family had all been found. We would never know if all of them had made it out alive but I did see men carrying youngsters who were crying, leading me to hope that they would eventually be okay. 

When the law officers finally asked us to leave the rest of the investigation to them, everyone got back inside their cars and drove away as did we. I felt quite unnerved as we continued on our journey. I could still see the wreckage, the members of the family and the kind men and women who instinctively worked tirelessly in the rescue efforts. I prayed that everyone who had been injured would survive without any kind of permanent damage to their bodies or their psyches. I marveled at the instinctive goodness of all of the people who had rallied to help. 

I have witnessed the kindness of humans many times over the decades but that particular moment is etched in my mind with the clearest details. I only need think of it and it feels as though I am on that scene once again. It had an everlasting effect on my soul. On the one hand the vision of the violent wreckage illuminated in the shadows of darkness was so haunting. On the other hand the instantaneous reaction of the people searching for the victims in tall weeds and under an inky sky was uplifting. It felt as though I had witnessed what makes humans so incredibly self sacrificing in times of need. There was total unity of purpose without need for leaders or directions. Everyone understood the job that needed to be done. 

That moment in time was horrifying. I instantly identified with the people whose trip down the highway had been so suddenly interrupted by tragedy. I thought of how terrifying it would be if my own daughters had been flung into the matted jungle of weeds to a space where who knows what might have harmed them. I hoped that in a similar circumstance there would be good people to search for them and help them just as I had witnessed on that long ago night. Somehow in that moment I knew that there always would be kindness in their hours of need. 

We never know when something terrible will happen to us or to a member of our family. I’ve had some minor brushes with danger and on every occasion I have witnessed brave souls offering solace without hesitation. It seems to be part of our DNA and it is that very aspect of our natures that keeps me feeling positive even when situations seem to be quite uncertain or dreary. Call me a cockeyed totally naive optimist but I will always believe that when the situation demands it, there will always be heroes among us. Look around and I think you will find them just as I have. 

I have been lucky to have incredible neighbors wherever I have lived for all of my life. My childhood was tinged by the tragedy of my father’s death but the wonderful people among whom I grew into an adult were always ready to help me and my family. I felt safe and loved  and part of something bigger than just me, my two brothers and my mother. Save for the trauma of losing my father I enjoyed what some might describe as an idyllic childhood on Belmark Street in southeast Houston. 

Eventually I would leave home and begin a new life with my husband, Mike. We started our decades long journey in a couple of apartments where I once again encountered people who walked along with me as I grew into and more independent adult. They were my peers but also my teachers who were filled with practical skills that they shared with me for surviving in the world. 

When our children were still so young that they had not yet started school we moved to our first home near Hobby Airport. There we were the youngsters on the block, surrounded by men and women who might have been our wise older brothers and sisters. I knew that they were watching over us, making sure that we would be okay in our new role as home owners. They were wonderful people whose doors were always open to us whenever we needed advice or just a place to stop for a time and chat. 

We grew into middle age there as our neighbors began to show the wrinkles and greying hair of of time catching up with them. I sensed and feared that we would be left behind to take on the role of the elders while they moved on to homes with smaller yards and fewer responsibilities. I knew it was time to make a move of our own. Thus we relocated to our present house on a lovely cul-de-sac in Pearland. Oddly enough we found ourselves being the older people among young folk just starting families and growing their careers. 

We had lived in our former home for over thirty years surrounded by the same people, but the people near our new home seemed to come and go with regularity. In particular the house next door seemed to have a revolving door with different families coming and going. Then one day a lovely woman named Melissa came to stay there for a time with her husband and little girl. She was a friendly soul who first saw me outside with my granddaughter and immediately invited the two of us to a birthday party for her child. 

We felt like part of her family from the get go. From that moment forward she showered us with friendliness and generosity. She was young enough to be my daughter but we had a connection that surpassed age. I was enthralled with the loveliness of her personality and hoped that she would tarry for a longer time than others had spent in the house that seemed destined to be a way station rather than a settled home. 

Sadly Melissa too moved away far more quickly than I had hoped but she made sure that our friendship would survive by keeping our connection alive through social media and her thoughtfulness in difficult times. She delivered flowers and goodies and fine conversation after a surgery that I had. She kept me apprised of her busy life and the new joys of having a second daughter. I saw that she was loved and admired by everyone who met her and that she was energetic beyond what seemed to be humanly possible. 

Melissa was always doing something wonderful for anyone having a difficult time. Many months ago she built a “blessing box” near her home that she filled with staples of food that is always there for anyone who needs it. She keeps an eye on the contents making sure it is never empty. She encourages those who are able to do so to help with her project by bringing their own offerings. She asks nothing of the people who come to her little food pantry and cheerfully makes known that anyone is welcome to partake of its contents. 

After the hurricane that hit our area of the country there were people in dire need. Without power for days they lost the food that they had purchased for their families. Because many businesses were closed some were unable to work and earn the funds they needed to purchase replacements for the items that had gone bad. Melissa reminded everyone that her blessing box was open and people came to accept her largesse. One such person left a lovely note for her explaining the depth of her despair in being unable to feed her hungry children. Then she remembered reading about the blessing box and found her way to where it stood filled with just what she needed to stave off hunger. Then she blessed Melissa with her gratitude. 

I have learned over time of the goodness of people. I have been the recipient of their loving concern again and again. From the neighbors on Belmark Street to my present day home I have been surrounded by individuals like Melissa who go out of their way to be good neighbors. It is from this continuing experience that I draw optimism even in the most difficult times. 

Perhaps I have simply been lucky wherever I have lived, but I think that the truth is that people want to be kind and loving and helpful. There is a goodness in each of us that finds its way into the hearts of those who live around us. Some folks are more outgoing and inclined to be quintessential neighbors like Melissa but when there is a need mostly everyone rises to the occasion. I remind myself of that everyday, especially when we are led to believe that we are living through times of doom. I suspect that when everyone looks around they find the kind of blessings that Melissa so beautifully offers multiplied millions of times over. It’s nice to remember the blessings around us even when the skies are gray and the times are challenging.