Learning From Discussion

Unless I am just too tired, or struggling with some life event, I have always loved talking to people.  Not only because I like people in general, but because I learn so much.  I get thoughts I would never come up with on my own.  I get different points of view.  To me, it is such a valuable thing in life.  Once again, I have found that to be true.  A stranger I will never know has written something about the Ellen DeGeneres story that is just so powerful.  It should touch our hearts.

Allan had read not only the original news story, but also some comments from other readers.  The following is what he put on his Facebook page.  The reader’s comment is in quotes.  I do hope one of the mothers reads this and it changes her heart.

Bravo to the reader who posted this response to the Million Moms vs. Ellen DeGeneres/JCPenney story……….

”You are neither a good Christian nor a good Mom if you are teaching your child intolerance and discrimination (which is against the law by the way, so you are also encouraging your children not to be law abiding citizens, just what we need, thanks for that).  Also.…just so you know….at LEAST one of your children, somewhere in your group, IS GAY….statistically it is a given….but they will not come to you….they will suffer in silence until they can get far away from you or even worse….suffer forever, or commit suicide, because the biggest influence in their life spews hatred for who they are.  Shame on you!”

Let me share something else Allan learned about this group.  The group so against JCP and Ellen DeGeneres is One Million Moms (emphasis mine).  As it turns out, there is another, very different organization founded by the UN Foundation, ABC News, and other organizations with humanitarian goals.  The name is similar, which has been initially unfortunate, but perhaps is now going to be a real benefit.  The humanitarian organization is Million Moms.  The focus is global health.  Their mission is to raise both awareness about, and funding for, the health of mothers and babies around the world.  The link, if you'd like to read it for yourself is http://www.millionmomschallenge.org/stories/entry/2/464.

Thanks to the hate of some mothers, this charitable organization has received interest.  For our family, we now have another organization to which we can send some of our monthly savings.  One group that was hateful towards others has helped a second group that is loving and helpful towards others.  I admit, I am enjoying the irony!

Christmas Eve and New Family Traditions

A few days before Christmas Trista and Ale were over, the weather was nice, and we were having coffee on the new screened-in porch.  Our son-in-law Ale (Alejandro) is from Mexico.  I asked if his family had any foods that were part of their traditions.  Christmas Eve they have Pozole (a soup handed down from indigenous peoples) and taquitos.  The pozole is made with stock, meat or poultry, hominy and onion.  Although the meat is more traditionally pork, Ale’s family always has chicken. I always try to incorporate foods he likes into any of our holiday meals.  This time I suggested we have only what his family would be having.  Everyone liked that idea.

Once cooked, there are a number of additional ingredients individuals may choose to add to their soup: radishes, avocado, cabbage, lime (SO good in soup!  Who would have thought?), oregano, queso fresco, additional onion and salsa.  Taquitos are heated corn tacos, stuffed with a potato mixture similar to our mashed potatoes, then rolled and fried. 

I’ve included pictures.    It was all SO delicious.  I ate four (yes, I said 4!) taquitos.  Everyone was totally amazed.  I suggested the meal become our Christmas Eve family meal as well.  They readily agreed.  The great thing is that I don’t have to wait until next Christmas Eve to again enjoy the meal.  It is traditional for Ale’s family to have the soup and taquitos also on February 2^nd.  I’ll write about that in another post, probably as an addition to a description of our January 6^th get together.    

Without queso fresco or salsa



Mine, without anything too spicy or hot




The way Allan, Trista and Ale prefer it



PS   Writing something this brief and concise just feels wrong!!  So not me!

That Beauty May Enter

I love the location of our house.  I find nature uplifting.  It seems to provide a kind of refuge that helps focus one’s mental camera on the beautiful and peaceful.  A creek runs behind our house.  We have a blue heron that comes and goes.  There are two “couples” of ducks that show up from time to time and swim leisurely in one direction and then back.  It’s as if they enjoy one another’s company and are out for a Sunday stroll.  We’ve had a beautiful red fox sunbathing on the creek’s other side.  But the squirrels live here year round, as do the tiny brown birds that have coffee with me when I am outside.   And then there are the red birds that are here a portion of the year. 

The other morning, right outside the kitchen door that goes to the deck, was a red bird standing on the welcome mat, looking in.  Allan keeps the camera always nearby so he can capture just such pictures, but no matter how quietly and slowly he tries to snap the photograph, those red birds know.  And just a split second before he clicks, off they go.  It’s as if they delight in knowing we think they are beautiful and make a game of it.  They stay long enough for us to think we stand a chance of capturing their picture and then fly to the trees, to look back and see what our next move is.  Hang on to the thought of that red bird for just a minute, while I get to the real point of this post.  (Okay, so maybe more than a minute.)

Later on the same day that the little red bird was at our door, I broke a habit.  I rarely click on any news item on our computer home screen.  But there was an article about mothers against JCPenney. That caught my attention.   Mr. Penney, the only child of the original Penney’s,  used to actually live in the building where my office was.  Strange, yes; but true, nonetheless.  He had one-half of the 5^th floor.  And my office was on that floor.  He would chat with me when we met in the elevator.  I once gave him an inexpensive “door chime” from Radio Shack that I no longer needed. It might have cost $10.   He wrote me a personal thank you on his stationery.  It was sad really.  He seemed to view that as such a big thing.  Maybe he rarely had someone give him anything.  I simply don’t know.  I just know he was always very friendly with me.  I wondered, at times, if he simply was never treated like he saw everyone else treated; if no one dared talk to him.  Whatever the situation, you see why I was interested in a JCPenney controversy.

Evidently an organization of mothers are outraged that the department store has hired Ellen DeGeneres as spokeswoman.   They say that she is not representative of the mostly traditional families who shop at the store.  They maintain that the majority of these families will be offended and choose to shop elsewhere; that more business will be lost than gained by this decision of JCPenney. 

I read some of the comments, which I NEVER do.  I really wanted to know the general reaction.  I am glad to say it was supportive of JCPenney being able to hire whomever they want.  The consensus seemed to be that there are other issues with which these mothers could concern themselves.  I was especially happy to see that all of those who said they are Christians (remember the number of comments I read was small, but still…) were as disgusted as I with the response of this group. 

I would like to ask the women or suggest to them several things.  I wonder how they know the exact demographics of those who shop at JCP, nation-wide.  And I would like to know how they can predict anything about the future sales of a store.  Do they have degrees in marketing?  I would like to know what jobs they consider okay for gays to hold.  Are there any?  If the article correctly reports that they “demand” Ellen be replaced by someone who is not gay, I would like to know how they can “demand”?  Most importantly, I would like to ask where they think this would end?  If JCPenney were to fire Ellen, for example, and hire a young Latina, would that be acceptable to them?  Or would that not work because Latinos and Latinas are not representative of the majority of JCP shoppers?  What groups are to be allowed to have what jobs?  To what groups would the equal right to have a job of their choice be given?  To what other groups would this right be denied?  Suppose they were to discover that the manager of their local food chain is gay, would they also demand s/he be fired?   

What other areas of life, besides the work world, should be monitored by such groups as that of these women?  Would they feel the need to petition various radio stations to discontinue playing the music of gays like Elton John, since he might not be representative of the “majority” of us listeners?  (Of course I say “majority” without any data or search for actual demographic  facts.)  And where would the demanding stop?  Should students no longer study the contributions of Leonardo da Vinci to science, math, and art because he was gay?  What about Michelangelo?   Should any study of the Renaissance exclude mention of the Sistine Chapel or of his Pieta and David sculptures?  Surely Tchaikovsky’s musical compositions should not be played by orchestras or symphonies?  Shouldn’t English literature classes remove Walt Whitman, Oscar Wilde, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Tennessee Williams, at the very least , from the course curriculum?

I would think that the study and appreciation of the talents of these historical figures who were gay should be of far more concern to these women than the spokesperson for the department store where they go to buy jeans during a 50% off sale?  Of course, if they were to decide that is a valid point,  the women would surely have to conclude and admit that gay people are more than just their sexual preference.   They would have to admit to the huge contributions of these historically famous (but gay) people.  Easier to not go there, I imagine.  To attack and discount what these people offered our society would require a lot more “demanding”. 

I repeat, where would this end?  Would we have to re-write the Preamble to our country’s Constitution?  Would we have to change the part that says “…secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity…” ?  Would it need to be changed  so as to read “…secure the blessings of liberty to those of us who are straight, and to our posterity, if they are not gay or….”?  In addition to being gay, what other “qualifiers”, or more accurately, “disqualifiers”, would we list to clarify for whom liberty is truly secured?

Certainly the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag would require editing as well.  We couldn’t have it read only “…liberty and justice for all”.  The same disqualifiers must be added here also.  We would have to pledge “…with liberty and justice for all who are not gay…”.  If other disqualifiers were determined by these women to better represent the majority of us, those would have to be listed as well. 

Allow me to make an assumption, for the moment, admitting the possibility that it could be totally incorrect.   Let me assume that one of these women is a professed Christian.  (Given that often enough the outcry against gays comes from “us” Christians, and the fact that I am making this assumption about only one of what is supposed to be a million women, I don’t find this an invalid or ridiculous assumption.)  Then I would want/need to ask that woman to give me an example of when Jesus wanted to deny anything good to “sinners”?   He didn’t run around trying to get Rome to take any rights away from them.  On the contrary, He spent time with them.  He ate with them.  I know what she would say, of course.  She would tell me that the Bible speaks against homosexuality.  And I would respond that it also speaks against lying, or cheating others, or judging them.  And then I would ask if she were to find out that JCP spokesperson had lied, or stolen $25, would she be demanding   that person be fired?  And I would remind her that Jesus spoke of sinners, period.  He did not categorize and  rank sin.  Only some of us like to do that.  I feel certain that if this woman were hateful enough she would not be convinced.  She would persist in her fight to deny gays a job, or whatever else she could. 

Going back to the little red bird looking into our kitchen.  Seems like that’s what some of us WANT to do; to exclude others.  We WANT them outside looking in.  But what we don’t see is what we are missing by not letting them in.  The red bird is different from the birds that live behind our house year round.  But what additional beauty and enjoyment even one red bird gives us!  Speaking for myself, I don’t want to close my door and have others looking in.  I want to not only open that door, but open it wide!  The person I let in might be different, just like our little red bird is different from the other birds we have around most of the time.  BUT, that red bird adds color and more beauty to our back yard.  Same thing could be true for people who are “different” from me. 

Come to think of it, what an interesting thing that the red bird came on the day I read about the mothers against JCP!  Jesus said God cares about even the birds of the air.  He then explained how much more God cared about us humans.  He didn’t say there was anything that qualified or disqualified us for that love.

You know, I like those red birds just fine.  Absolutely for sure, I’m going to try to live with that door open!  And if I do, just think what beauty may enter.

January's Savings for the Children

In a very recent post, “Changing Lenses and Being Reminded of Life’s Equation”, I explained an ongoing project for saving extra dollars each month, with the goal of donating them to charitable organizations which provide critical necessities of life for children, both here and the world over.  So, guess how much we saved just in January?  $198.79!!  How cool is that?

We most likely will not be able to save that much each month.  We took advantage of some good January sales.  For example, Ale’s birthday is January 11^th.  We bought him a wireless printer while the price was marked down by $30.  I took advantage of some 50% off sales to pick up a couple of light weight sweaters that are particularly good to have in North Carolina.  (Several were only $5.18 before tax.  I do love a good bargain!)  I bought a few actual Christmas decorations that will be for a table design I am going to work on.   A package of 4 cost $0.70, for example.  I bought some hostess gifts for only $0.50 for a “girls’” get together I had.  One of our grocery stores gives a 5% senior discount every Thursday.  We buy pretty much only what is on sale (that we actually use, of course) and then get another discount by buying on Thursdays.  This month we saved $25.84 and got one free submarine sandwich!   We get “senior” coffee at McDonald’s for $0.42 a cup.  I gave up something I wanted that would have cost $12.  But I pretended I was living during the Great Depression and came up with a creative alternative using some things I had already.  I liked doing that.  I used to be impressed with ideas and practical solutions my Mom could come up.  (She was a child during the Depression.)  Etc.  Etc. You get the idea.         

I was faithful to calculate the tax we would have paid on any amount saved and added that into the “fund”.  We want to be able to send 100% of the total we would have had to spend for something; not an amount net of sales tax. 

The check goes out today, along with the $104.15 we saved in December, after having already made a contribution earlier in the month.  I have a picture in my head of some small child crying when receiving a shot against a childhood disease.  And to think those tears are possibly caused by our contribution!  But those tears might result in a little life saved or one sure to be far healthier due to receiving the medicine.   In that case, they are priceless tears, aren’t they?

Can’t wait to see what our February total is!

Why Not Me?

Can I just say “damn”?  I am totally stealing that phrase from my friend Donna.  She usually asks me that when we are having difficulty matching our schedules so we can get together.  Anyway, again this morning I awakened thinking about something I heard on television. 

Last night Allan, having asked me about my preference of what we might watch and, receiving an “I don’t care; I’m too tired” whiney response, chose a program he enjoys.  I intended to go lie down and read but was honestly just too fatigued to get up right then.  So, I stayed, not realizing that just a few minutes would be costly in terms of needed rest.

Evidently a political figure had suggested that people would have been happy to have had a referendum vote during the civil rights movement, as opposed to people dying in the streets.  The reaction from various Black leaders, political and otherwise, was predictable, and to my way of thinking, totally justified and appropriate.   In response to the outcry the Caucasian political figure said that there had been a “misrepresentation” of what he had “implied”.  I prefer straightforward, so even in my exhausted state, I wondered what he had expected.  If he did not want any misunderstanding, why hadn’t he just made it clear what he was saying, rather than using implication?  And furthermore, did he really believe that a referendum vote would have resulted in a Civil Rights Act?  Had he not studied the Jim Crow laws?  How could he not be aware that the very people about whom that referendum vote would have been called could NOT have voted?  At that point I left the room.  I decided gathering the physical strength to do so was far easier than trying to mentally cope with such illogical and mean-spirited talk.  

My mother cleaned house until she was 77 years old.  I am very proud of her for that.  When I was older I would once and a while go with her and help her.  I guess that, along with what I just told you about, and the fact that I wanted to read last night, explains the way I awakened this morning.  I awoke wondering what it would be like if I had lived in a time when laws actually begrudged me the opportunity to learn to read.  I LOVE to read.  I still have my first two reading books, Tags and Twinkle and Good Times On Our Street.    What follows is my imagination at work, at 5:30 AM.  I imagine I am my current age, but I am not White; I am African-American…

I live in North Carolina, the place of my birth.  Being only in my early sixties, I have not yet reached the age at which they say one’s long-term memory is particularly strong while the short-term memory weakens.  Even if the reverse were true and our long-term memories were lost as we age, I would find it impossible to believe that would be the case for us Blacks who were growing up during racially turbulent times.  How could we EVER have anything but the most vivid of memories of how we and our families were treated? 

Before my family moved to Detroit where there were jobs for Blacks in the auto factories, my Mama was a maid to several White families.  When school was out for the summer or for any other school vacations, she would take me with her and I would help her do the cleaning.  Only one of the families treated us like we were even there.  The others seemed not to know we existed.  That is, unless Mama was so much as five minutes late in having lunch ready.  Or there was found a speck of dust on a window sill she had dusted the day before.  (It was never considered that the window had been opened during the night to make it more comfortable for the family to sleep.  They must have thought the breeze entered with only refreshing, cooler air without once thinking that breeze also brought dust and dirt from the outside in.)

The family I disliked most had a daughter just about my age.  I hated it when she was home on Mama’s day to work for her family.  She would boss me around just like I had been hired to wait on her.  I would be doing something Mama had asked me to do and she would want me to pick up the toys and books in her room before her mama got home from some luncheon.  When I would look to Mama for direction she would nod ever so slightly, indicating I should go do as asked.  Part of me was thrilled because she had SO many books.  I was sure they were about all kinds of interesting things I would have liked to learn. 

One year, just a few days after school had been let out for the summer I was at her house with Mama.  I was down on my hands and knees dusting the baseboard molding when Carole, “Not the regular, plain old Carol, but Carole with an ‘e’”, told me I should come to her room with her and sort through her “dumb old” school books and all the papers that she had brought home from her desk.  The papers took a long time since she wanted to save all the ones which had a grade of B, written in large, bold pen strokes.  I remember thinking that she really didn’t want to keep the papers as much as she wanted me to see how smart she was.  She must have thought I never received a grade that high.  She probably thought I couldn't, even with hard work.  I actually got straight A's.  I did NOT tell her.  I knew better. But I didn’t care about that anyway.  What I cared about was when she instructed me to take the books out to the garbage can.  Simply writing that brings back the exact feelings I had that day.  Oh, how shocked and distressed I was!  Besides her regular “study” books there were some story type books she had been allowed to read.  Not only allowed, but encouraged, she said, by the reading teacher.  Wow!  We didn’t have a lot of books at my school at all.  We had to hand them down each year so the next class could use them.  And we would get ours from the class above us.  Certainly we had no story type books.  And we sure didn’t have any teacher who specialized in reading!!!

A thought occurred to me.  Why couldn’t I have the books since they were going into the garbage?  I knew not to ask out right.  So I asked if I could possibly have the books if I earned them.  I would come with Mama every day I could.  And since I was the baby of the family that would make it easier on the others and maybe they could get more work.  I knew Mama would let me do what this girl wanted instead of helping her, just so I could have those books.  Mama wanted us kids to get an education.  She said we needed to be reading and thinking about what we were reading. 

I might live long enough to get dementia or Alzheimer’s.  I might forget my name and my family.  I might forget how to swallow.  But I am convinced I will never forget that White girl’s response.  She responded that, of course, I could not have those books.  Wasn’t I aware of the law?  Didn’t I know anything?  And then she summarized a law I had not yet learned about.  Had I told Mama my plan to ask for the books ahead of time, she would have told me I could not ask.  But the thought of having those books for my very own was way too exciting.  I forgot to check with Mama first. 

Carole, “with an ‘e’”, explained that it was illegal; “against the law”; in case I didn’t know that word, for her to allow me to have those books, for any reason!  I have since memorized that state law.  It was similar to those of many other states.  “Books shall not be interchangeable between the white and colored schools, but shall continue to be used by the race first using them.”  I am sure had I known that law and pointed out that neither she nor I were actual schools, she would have said that didn’t matter; that the later part of the law made it clear that because of my race I could not have those school books.  She stood at her window and watched me carry those books and toss them into that garbage pail.  I am sure the thought that I might not do as told never occurred to her.  I think she enjoyed putting me in my place.  I am sure it was fun for her to observe my hesitancy in throwing those books in that pail!  She seemed to like watching me have to do what I did not want to do.  In those moments I was mad!  I was mad at her.  I was mad at men who made such laws.  And I was mad at God for not making me White!

When I returned to her room, Carole “with an ‘e’” told me to go to the library and read books if I wanted to read so badly.  Evidently I did not know, she said, that the law allowed “separate but equal” treatment for us.  What use was there to tell stupid, mean, Miss Carole “with an ‘e’”, that I had no way to get to the library?  Neither Mama nor Daddy could take me.  They had to work.  And even if they allowed my older brothers and sisters to take me, that would mean bus fare that we did not have.  I now know that law also.  “The state librarian is directed to fit up and maintain a separate place for the use of the colored people who may come to the library for the purpose of reading books or periodicals.”   I do not know if the state librarian was expected, much less directed, to follow up with all libraries within the state to ensure that such a place was, in fact, provided us “colored”.  And I have always wondered about the phrasing “for the purpose of reading books or periodicals”.  The law mentions nothing about being able to check books or periodicals out of the library. 

I have chosen not to investigate/study further on any part of either of these laws.  I do not want to experience that same frustration and anger and hatred that I did when I had to throw those books away.  I have worked hard at being guided by better motivations; motivations more positive and beneficial both to myself and to our world.  In fact, I try to care about what happened to “Carole with an ‘e’” and her family.  I’m still working on that.  The problem is that every time I think about her, I once more become that little girl throwing away the books and asking myself why I couldn’t have been born White.  Why couldn’t I have been able to go to a school that had so many books they didn’t have to be passed down from one class to the next?  Why couldn’t I and my school mates at least have been allowed books that were to be thrown away?  Why couldn’t I have the same exact privileges at public libraries as the White girls?  All those unanswered childhood questions haunt me and aggravate me.  And at this age, when I am supposed to have gained such wisdom, I still ask, “Why not me”?