Let the Cycle Be Broken

I made my mother curse yesterday.

While I admit that first sentence was a cheap literary hook, it is nonetheless true. I was asking her about her father and more pointedly how he talked to her. I wanted to hear the actual words, not just the ‘blankety-blank’ she’d said before. Apparently he had quite the dark vocabularic collection. I’m not sure where my grandfather learned to talk in that way but I’ve heard his father was a sailor. Maybe it was passed down. One thing is certain. It did not pass down to my mother.

While I appreciate the many traits that both my grandparents passed on to my mom, it is difficult to understand why the mere sight of my mother seemed to incite her father to anger. In his defense it seems he had some mental issues and even checked himself into a mental health facility for a rather drastic treatment of a frontal lobotomy. As he seemed unable to keep regular work, due to this or because of the times – it was early in the Great Depression - there was seldom adequate food, clean clothing, and no semblance of a regular schedule of mealtimes or bedtimes. My grandmother, although a self-educated woman only formally completed  the eighth grade.

Studies show that children who are raised with this kind of abuse dole it out to their offspring. By all rights my upbringing should have been similar or even worse. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, if you had speculated on what kind of life my mother was going to have after growing up in a home where absolute squalor and verbal abuse dominated, you would be off the mark.  That is why I never heard her repeat those words until yesterday, and only at my urging.

You see, at a young age she transferred her affection to her heavenly Father and imitated Him instead of her earthly father. She was a pastor’s wife during my growing up years, and a gentle loving mother. She has maintained a warm relationship with her siblings. In what could be her retirement, she owns partnership in a local Business College, teaching and giving encouragement and guidance to students who have lost their way, both in life and employment. She hosts coffees for the neighbors in her community, encouraging the women, often giving money here or there to people who need it. She holds a bachelor’s degree and is by far the most well-read in her peer group. My mother, a soft-spoken and extremely articulate woman has spent her 84 years in giving back to the world and her God. Not only that but all four of her children are successful, upwardly mobile citizens who have followed her example of faith and altruism. I’d call this breaking the cycle.

Always Mercy

Being a new devoted Doctor Who fan, I can't resist a stab at some thoughts on Episode 2 of Season 9. Aficionado's may wish to go and fetch a cup of tea whilst I give a little insight to the rest of you.

The Doctor Who series is a BBC original television show which began in 1963, went into dormancy in 1989 and experienced a revival beginning in 2005. It features the Doctor, a Time Lord who travels through time in a  Blue British Police Box called the TARDIS (acronym for time and relative dimension in space).

The vulnerability and ultimate triumph of mercy is showcased quite brilliantly. The Doctor responds to an ominous and pitiable summons from Davros, the creator of the Daleks, robotic machines who are quite possibly the biggest evil threat he faces. We are shown a flashback where the Doctor has saved Davros' life as a child, and during the course of the episode we learn that it is the Doctor's compassion for this boy-turned-evil-mastermind that has allowed the birth of so much evil, and indeed been the primary reason for the predicament that the Doctor and his friends find themselves in at the moment. We are drawn in horrified fascination to the Daleks whose individual and collective mantra is 'EXTERMINATE!', but we are also drawn to the Doctor because he is good, and it doesn't hurt that he is usually able to get out of fantastically bad circumstances, managing to also rescue his companions and any other such innocents.

As Davros begins to tighten the noose on the Doctor he makes a pitiful plea for the Doctor to help him see the sunset and even sheds real tears. There is some cheesy comment about how they are in this moment on the same side, and the Doctor's compassion once again leads him to offer help by giving some of his lifeforce to the (apparently) dying Davros. He finds himself, in his attempt to help, led into a trap, being drained of energy which is used to strengthen the Daleks even more.

This tragedy is then turned to victory when the Doctor's current companion Clara, trapped in a Dalek's apparatus is able to articulate 'mercy' through the Dalek's voice box - which concept is unknown to the Daleks, but enabled by the Doctor's sacrifice of energy - to recognize her and save her. 'Always mercy.' the Doctor says, in what appears to be a spiritually teaching moment.

At one point a question is posed, 'Davros made the Daleks, but who made Davros?' As far as I can determine, the question is never answered, within this episode anyway.

You connect the dots. I did.

Post 9/11 Reflection

America has lost her first love.

In a friendly argument with my mother last night, I was forced to define the America of yesterday and contrast it with the America of today. We debated the term "Christian nation" and I wondered about the differences in the world she and I remember and the America we see unfolding before our bewildered eyes.

If America were in a marriage, it would be high time for some counseling.

Watching 9/11 stories made me yearn for the unity that we had during that time, although I was deeply saddened that it came with an unbelievable price. My mother and her generation remember a similar solidarity over the second world war.

Perhaps our rose colored glasses obscure a bit but who does not remember with fondness the solidarity we enjoyed during times of national crisis?

The moral base for our decisions then, and throughout our history (and one might argue, excepting the blight of slavery), was a sturdy and active love for each other simply because we share the identity of 'American'. And behind that moral base was an identity rooted in the preciousness of every human life and the belief in the freedom of the individual. Lest you mistake my meaning, the preciousness of all human life and the freedom of the individual derives from our Creator. And so, as my mother and I agreed, throughout our history our nation was characterized and informed by "Christian values". The ability to "love your neighbor as yourself"  is perhaps the pinnacle of a successful society.

We are now on the precipice of a national divorce. News stations pit story against story, and people march in the street over their particular brand of lifestyle demands. It's the government's fault. "It's Washington" says Washington. It's Fox News. Its CNN. It's the President. It's Hilary. It's the schools.  Ascribing blame to an untouchable villain is an effective way to sidestep my responsibility. But it feels so good to tell it. 

It sounds an awful lot like the garden. 

It was the woman. 

It was the serpent.

I imagine a scenario during 9/11 where no one helps their neighbor because they don't share the same political or religious beliefs. That would be the true nightmare. 

We are in that crisis. Yes, we have severe political division. Yes, we disagree sharply on major lifestyle issues. Are they irreconcilable? Not if love covers a multitude of sins. 

Hand wringing might satisfy for a moment, but it accomplishes nothing positive. We are not asked to police some person we see on YouTube. We are confronted only with our neighbors, co-workers and our families. Loving them truly takes all our time anyway. It's time to remember who we are and be it.

What I Do and Don't Know

A cursory look at the news or any social media may cause instant fear and depression. The fact is, that any one of a number of catastrophes both happen and are within the realm of possibility. Bad things happen, and the news of them spreads like wildfire.

Honestly, none of us knows tomorrow's events with any degree of certainty. Focusing on the imaginary unknown, by linking it with some current event is like making movies in your own mind and then watching them in real time.

I would guess that I am average in that I spend equal amounts of time thinking about what could go wrong as I do wildly fantasizing about what could go right. Neither are efficiently productive. You could argue that focusing on the positive is what causes good vibes and energy. I couldn't agree more. Still, it is action that gets things moving. Thinking about a steak dinner will not cook it, though it may be more likely to lead to my cooking it. In the same way, thinking about social anarchy may not cause social anarchy, but it will certainly cause me to be more sensitive to any form of it, and lead me to an abnormal distrust of my neighbor. We often play 'telephone' with our own thoughts, jumping to conclusions that are a product of our imagination, and not reality. It is said that many of the radical facebook posts that proclaim outlandish conclusions are based on a sense of public fear and cause readers to be gullible enough to swallow outright lies, simply because they contain a small amount of truth. Any post that gets your goat may fall in this category.

The more analytical among us may argue that gathering information helps us to understand the times, and a knowledge of history informs the future. All true, and yet, to what end?

The only realm in which I have true influence is more than likely the space around me for ten to twenty yards or so in either direction. In this age of instant information, we maybe lulled into thinking of ourselves as 'omnipowerful' as we are  'artificially omniscient'. Why, then, do I find it so hard to focus on that space and seek to live in an imaginary world of my own making?

I find it far easier to blame the current administration than to walk a few feet and give some love to my neighbor or family member when giving love would make a small but real difference.

Yes, tomorrow is uncertain. Today's moment is the only one that is stone concrete and crystal clear. I must not reject it or flee from it to some other ethereal place out of either fear or laziness. To do this is not to truly live the gift of my own life.

I must remember that tomorrow's uncertainty includes a certainty. God. That is what I know.

The House that Jack Built

The things we earn along the way are not always what we expect to learn.

In the middle of a reader's theater project the most unexpected thing I learned was that children under ten cannot hold a binder with one arm comfortably. Therefore it is hard to hold a script with one hand and turn pages with another.

Also, while reader's theater is prop and costume free, it is not without it's own set of challenges, the least being the actual reading skills of the children. My class consists of excellent readers, even the youngest, who cannot read fluently but certainly keeps up his end of the part by memorizing and lip syncing with the others.

I also think I figured out who Jack is. If you're interested check out the poem The House that Jack Built and see if you agree. Then place your comment here.

It Takes a Village

If Hillary Clinton is - hey whatever happened to the Rodham? - famous for one thing it is the phrase that begins like this. She didn't make it up, but rather used an African proverb for the title of her book by that name.

I'm going to pirate it once again to make a point in another direction.

It takes a village to keep an American comfortable.

Having been a comfortable American for over five decades, and having traveled to the Middle East and Europe I feel quite certain that comfort is the core of the American dream. One of the first things that jarred me to reality while visiting foreign shores is that there are certain things I feel accustomed to enjoying that are exclusively American. Many of these are indeed enjoyed all over the world, but not to the extent that I have taken for granted here at home, nor were they available to the generations before me.

Each morning when I wake up, I can count on the following:

A state of the art sewage system will quietly take care of my morning's business
The water from my tap has been through countless filters and is certifiably drinkable
Electricity is delivered to every outlet and appliance in my house
24/7 internet is available
Phone service is uninterrupted
Weekly garbage trucks remove refuse and monthly street sweepers clean my street
The mail is delivered 6 days a week to a box that is secure
If I call 911 someone will answer, emergency staff is on the way
There is an abundant supply of fresh food at competitive prices at my grocery store
The streets I drive on are equipped with traffic lights that prevent accidents by controlling the flow of traffic
There are at least seven churches within a five mile radius of my house, all of whom operate without government restriction
There are gas stations in every point of the city, with pumps that are regularly inspected
I will be notified regarding my voting place and registration
A local library holds nearly any book I want to borrow, for free, without censure
I may choose any number of schools in the area for my child
I may sell my personal items out of my own garage
I enjoy free speech wherever I go
My bank is backed by the federal government and I enjoy a free checking account
Public bathrooms are free

These amenities of my modern life  represent tens of thousands of everyday Americans doing their job, often without thanks. I wish to offer my heartfelt thanks to the unseen person, for the internet call center person who resets my box, the post office person who sorts my mail, the electrician who wired my house 30 years ago, the dispatcher for the garbage company, the engineer who planned my local streetlights, the school board chairperson who oversees education in my area, the person who cleans the MacDonald's bathroom, the person who keeps the gas pumps safe, the anonymous donor to the library - I'm just scratching the surface...

You get my point. I am indebted to so many that I will never see. Living in the lap of luxury sometimes finds me grumpy when only one of these things temporarily hits a snag. Wow. Really? I'm resetting my attitude of gratitude here and now.

Count me one thankful American in the village.

Partial Disclosure

Nothing gets me doing housework like planning to write.

There are a thousand things to be done before I sit down. This is why, perhaps, I am not a currently publishing author.

Lest you get the wrong impression and think that my house is always clean, I feel I must offer a disclaimer in fairness to, well, truly clean housekeepers everywhere. Wherever they are. I usually stay away out of guilt.

I learned a new word last month. I shall use it here if only by example. If you can guess the word (I did manage to throw it onto social media once, so if you follow me you may have read it) please do comment and let me know.

So about the writing. (currently exhibiting new word)

A free verse poem ran around in my head as I was walking the dog at the park, which is by the way an excellent place to write as an alternative to actually sitting down at a keyboard, music or otherwise. This is inspired by one of my daughters, whose own writing craft cuts like an exacto through life's most poignant moments.

I offer a rough draft here:

It's a long road
that road with bridesmaid dresses
Friday nights with dinner for one
moments of dire self-doubt
going places to see things
to find people
and shaking the dust from the boys that walked away off your feet

But I traveled it once

At the end of it I found myself 
sitting across from your father
learning that he was Mr. Right
perfect?
no.
perfect for me?
yes.

Keep walking 

I would be lying if I said that I didn't thank God for the boys that walked away. Not because I didn't love them, but because they were doing the right thing, only we can rarely see that when our eyes are clouded by tears.

This is perhaps the reason I try to do anything other than write. It turns your life inside out for the scrutiny of your readers.  I think I have a floor I need to vacuum.