A Meaningful August 28th

It never occurred to us until this year!  Maybe that’s because it was a particularly significant anniversary, the 50th.  Fifty years since the peaceful March on Washington of a quarter of a million people.   Maybe it was because some of the fog of the day lifted and we were more aware of what was happening in the world.  I don’t know.

 But we finally realized that Natalia died on the same day, August 28^th, that Martin Luther King gave his “I Have A Dream” speech.  Somehow that was meaningful to us.

I have always loved his speech.  I have loved not only the content, but the eloquence.  In addition to the more famous lines, I love his declaration that he had come to Washington to “cash a check”.  He maintained that when the Declaration of Independence defined life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as the unalienable rights of all men, it was, in essence, a promissory note – a promissory note for these rights, given to all Americans, black as well as whites.   What a powerful analogy!  Particularly when he went on to say that America had defaulted on this note with respect to its citizens of color.  Further on he stated his belief that the bank of justice was not bankrupt.  He was more hopeful than I often feel. 

Interestingly enough, Trista and I came to the realization about the date independently of each other.  While riding to the Zumba class she teaches and I attend, she asked if I were by any chance writing anything about slavery.  Before I could respond she went on to say that she had just realized that Natalia’s date of death corresponded to Martin Luther King’s speech. 

I find it fascinating that she asked about slavery, not Civil Rights.  You’ve guessed, haven’t you?  I was writing something about slavery. 

What follows is just something that came to mind when I was thinking about Martin Luther King’s dream for his children: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”


(Note:  I made aboslutely no attempt at historical accuracy.  I just wrote.)

I have no choice.  Her cruelty is eating at her just like the fleas eat at the field dogs.  Those poor dogs scratch until they have patches where their hair is gone and the flesh underneath becomes a raw, nasty looking sore.  The fleas do not stop.  It is as if they have the ability to think and plan to torment the dogs without end until all of the dogs’ fleshy tissue has been laid completely bare.   

I am no longer able to calm her when she flies into her rages. Her rants do not allow her to hear my voice, my attempt to help her calm herself. Anyone in her presence at the time suffers verbal lashings.  Of course the verbal castigation is nothing for them to withstand.  They have been trained since birth to accept whatever is said to them, without reply.  Unless that is to say “Yes’m or “Yes Sir”.

The beatings are what worry me, as it most certainly does them.  The anger of her soul gives her uncanny strength, not usually found in a woman, much less one as small as she.  She is unfulfilled unless she sees the blood spread of the one being flogged, until the black skin she so despises is covered over with the bright red of fresh blood.  And if that blood oozes from the body of a child, it makes no difference to her.  Her hatred does not see child versus adult.  It does not see male or female.  It does not see culpable versus innocent.  It sees only black.  Sadly she sees nothing of the inner blackness that is her heart.  She sees only the black that is another’s skin.

Until recently they understood there was no hope their children would escape a life sentence in the prison called slavery.  But they did have hope that the children would live; even though they might be sold at auction and would be lost to their parents this side of heaven, they would not have to watch them be randomly maimed and/or killed in their childhood.  It was the loss of this hope that drives me and them.  It was, at first, an unspoken realization, a common bond, a collective goal of saving children’s lives, something that needed no words. 

Thus I began to consider and quietly learn how to try to help some safely reach a northern state where slavery does not exist.  They will take the journey other runaway slaves have traveled.  If they cannot go together as family units, I will find a way to send the children.  I have to.  I just have to.

More accurately, we have to.  I will do this with and for my black male friends with whom I played until about age 12.  Their mothers helped care for me, as much as Mother did.  I grew to love them as I loved her.  I grew to love my play mates as I would have loved the brothers I did not have.  I did not understand when I was told I could no longer be Jim’s friend; I was to consider him my personal slave.  I would forget and do things for myself, or even for both Jim and me.  That would particularly draw her wrath.  I was to remember that I was Jim’s master now!  Did I understand?  I had best not forget again! There was no allowance for my being solicitous on Jim’s behalf.  Perhaps if I had had siblings I might have felt differently.  But Jim was my brother, along with several others our same age, although I was closest to him.  We were a family, much more so than my “real” family, meaning my parents.    

It will be especially difficult because their master, my father, was not known to be an unfair or harsh man. And I believe help is first extended to those whose masters are merciless.  What people do not know is the control some women of the plantations hold over the affairs of the slaves.   And my mother’s society friends never see the heartless woman who is mistress of this plantation.   She is careful to hide her true nature.  (I suppose she does so in the same way Jim and the others have learned to conceal their intellect, their ability to think, to reason, to listen and to learn.  Not that they have found it to be so very challenging.  After all, Mother considers it absolute truth that they are inferior intellectually and therefore fails to look for the possibility that she could be wrong about their abilities.)  Given the opportunity, Jim is only one of many of them who could have been my fellow classmate. Being innately more intellectually gifted than I, he would have been the better student.  Should Mother hear me admit such a thing, there would be no sparing my black family and friends from her brutality.  I sincerely believe that, in her mind, I could more rightly curse God Himself openly than to even think such a thing. 

And poor Mother; would it not be her very undoing to know that it was at the northern university she and Father sent me where I learned there were others who felt as I did.  I was free to not only have my own opinions about my black family/friends, but to give them voice.  I could express my deep hatred and complete lack of understanding of this institution called slavery.  I could denounce my birthright to hold slaves; my right to prosper from their unending labor.    

It was my plan, upon returning home, to begin to work alongside Father, to encourage him to allow the Negro children to attend a school here on the plantation.  I had other grand plans, but Father up and died suddenly, necessitating my immediate and permanent return to the plantation.  It was obvious within the first moments of my homecoming that any good once evident in Mother’s heart was completely gone.  In addition to the underlying need for a feeling of superiority she now had self-pity to add to her self-aggrandizement toolbox, used so skillfully to fulfill her desire to control all matters. 

Therein is my problem.  The widely held opinion is that females are the gentler sex; that they hold in check the callous vindictiveness of males.  But it has been my experience that hatred and evil are not constrained by whether or not one is man or woman.  Rather, very ironically, they are bound only by an open heart!  A heart that is more selfless than selfish.  Such a heart allows no access.  It is safeguarded by a tendency and/or willingness to submit to compassion, to kindness, to benevolence.

The heart of anyone at any point in history can be wholly filled with, and consumed by darkness; the darkness that fights against a spirit of generosity, against caring about and for others, against living life without the presumptions of superiority and special favor bestowed by God.  Should Jim and I, and our other co-conspirators succeed in sheltering the children, in helping them to survive, it will be in spite of such hearts.  And it will be wholly dependent on humble hearts uncluttered by such malice; hearts willingly made vulnerable to hurt on behalf of another.  I pray for enough such hearts, both during this perilous undertaking, and for future generations of children I will not live to see.  I pray for hearts that see slave children in the same light as white children are seen.  Were we to be surprised and find many, I still have to wonder just how long it will be before hearts like Mother’s can be changed.  If ever. 

 

Delete

In July I received one of those “Forward this to x number of friends and good things will come to you” emails.  I hate them and usually simply push “Delete”.  Because this one came from a friend whose situation is so unique that I wanted to do something for her, I read the darn thing.  What was I thinking???

I found this particular “Forward for good things to happen” email particularly disturbing.  I can only assume that others found it acceptable because it has to do with God and praying.  And, after all, it originated with a woman who is, what I guess I would call “prominent”, at church.  (Although I do not know her, most people seem to and I know she is extremely active.)  So it is in a totally different category than all those other “good fortune” emails, right?  Not so much, from my perspective.  But see what you think.   

Hi!

Hope all is well. When you have a moment to yourself, read this, it was difficult for me to decide who I thought would DO this because many people claim to pray, but not everyone does. I hope I chose the right twelve. Please send this back to me. May everyone who receives this message be blessed.

There are 12 months / 12 disciples / 12 tribes of Israel / Jesus' birth celebrated in the 12th month. There is nothing attached. Just send this to twelve others. Prayer is one of the best free gifts we receive. There is no cost, just a lot of reward. Make sure you pray, and pray believing God will answer.

May today be all you need it to be. May the peace of God and the freshness of the Holy Spirit rest in your thoughts, rule in your dreams tonight, and conquer all your fears. May God manifest himself today in ways you have never experienced before. May your joys be fulfilled, your dreams be closer, and your prayers be answered. I pray that faith enters a new height for you; I pray that your territory is enlarged. I pray for peace, healing, health, happiness, prosperity, joy, true and undying love for God.

Now, will you send this to 12 people right now, not "I'll do it later".

You will have 12 people praying for you. Remember to send it back to me...... I count as 2, you'll see why.

 

So, now, having perused the email let me share with any reader why I find it offensive.  No where do I see the email’s initiator encourage the addressees to pray for good things for others outside the groups of twelve who might potentially receive the mailing.   Rather, the prayer focuses on the recipients and all that would make their lives so wonderful.  It seems to me that is made abundantly clear when the prayer requests that our territory be enlarged.  I fully realize that “territory be enlarged” is used symbolically and does not just refer to property.  No matter; the prayer is still asking for more; be it more influence, more authority, more control.   Where we are, our position in life, is not enough.  Furthermore, praying for prosperity says what we already have is not enough.  In fact, the very meaning of prosperity goes beyond any improvement in circumstances and/or standing.  It denotes success AND affluence. 

Remember when our children were very small?  They would get one gift, one treat, whatever, and then immediately ask for something more.  I think most parents worked at curbing that “I want more” attitude.  Not only that, but we taught them to say “Thank you”.  We did that so early the little ones couldn’t even pronounce the “th” sound.  Nor could they enunciate the word “you”.  It came out “Tank ooh”.  They learned to express appreciation, without any clue of what exactly that meant.  I can’t help but wonder if God wouldn’t like to see a little gratitude in this prayer along with that request for prosperity. 

Making prosperity a prayer request seems strange to me to begin with, but when it is not sought for others that we do not know, I just don’t understand it.  At the same time we were trying to get our little ones to be polite and express gratitude, we took pains to socialize them so they would learn not be selfish. The result?  As adults, even we “Christian” adults, those of us who espouse the belief that we should love others as well as we love ourselves, all too often live self-absorbed lives.  I offer this emailed prayer as proof. 

How did we get here?  I think there are a number of possible explanations.  Let me just mention one for now, however, the prayer of Jabez.  This Old Testament Biblical character very briefly shows up in the book of I Chronicles.  He asks God to bless him, to give him large tracts of land.  He requests that God personally protect him.  As if that were not enough, he asks to be free of any trouble and pain.  Wow!  Very unfortunately, at the conclusion of his prayer we are told that God gave Jabez what he wanted. 

You know someone got a book out of that, right?  In the preface of The Prayer of Jabez: Breaking Through to the Blessed Life, the author asks “Do you want to be extravagantly blessed by God?...To ask God for the abundant blessings He longs to give you?...” (Emphasis entirely mine).  Millions of copies sold within a relatively very short period of time, of course.   Trying to be fair, all of us would prefer a life without trouble or pain.  Nonetheless, how we Christians claim, on the one hand, that the Old Testament sets the stage for the important part of the story, the New Testament and God’s Son, yet on the other hand, want all we can get, beyond what we need, in direct contradiction to the teachings of Jesus is a position that cannot be defended.  Unlike the prayer Jabez uttered, Jesus’ prayers were selfless.  

And the interesting thing is that Jesus left no doubt, no uncertainty about how to pray.  He told us!  He gave us the format.  We call it the Lord’s Prayer.  Given how we refer to the two prayers, Jabez’ versus the Lord’s Prayer seems to provide a big flashing arrow pointing to which choice to make as our prayer “blueprint”.  At least to me that appears true.  And speaking for myself, I do not understand how “I pray for...prosperity...” is modeled after “Give us this day our daily bread”.  

Let me set aside the fact that I am comparing two prayers for a moment.  I’ll imagine that I am comparing two life viewpoints.  Still I would prefer the philosophy that is “us”, “our” and “daily”.  It appeals to me first of all because it is inclusive.  But it goes so much further.  It indicates complete equality. In asking for our daily bread, it requests the exact opposite of this emailed prayer found in my inbox that July day.  It focuses only on a most basic human, life-sustaining need; nothing more and nothing special for some of us. 

Need I say that I did not respond to the email?  I did what I should have done from the beginning.  For any non-Christians who find this email/prayer disgusting, don’t fret.  I pushed “Delete” for all of you as well as myself.  Okay, so maybe I enthusiastically punched that “Delete” button.  Would you believe I am still waiting to feel bad about that? 

Update On Savings For The Children YTD 2013

Yesterday we sent the check to World Vision for savings from the last couple of months.  YTD, not counting the check written yesterday, our savings and subsequent giving totals $662. 

 We always try to do two things.  First, we try to give to a variety of needs, such as food for US children and families, food for the starving in Africa, medicines needed to save lives, as well as those to prevent disease, net beds for families, clothing, help for children with disabilities, etc.  Yesterday’s check, for example, we designated to be used to provide clothing and school supplies for needy children in the US.  Seemed a good choice for a check being mailed in early September.

Secondly, we attempt to take advantage of any matching grants so as to substantially increase the amount of our donation.  A grant will multiply our $134 check sent yesterday by 10!!  So our small amount will actually make $1,340 available for the children’s needs.  Pretty neat!

Wanting to see what, if any, impact we have made with our little project, I went online to review the history of our contributions.  I am well pleased.

2012    Contributions, $1,141  and that amount multiplied by grants, $6,892

2013    YTD, excluding yesterday’s check, $662 and that amount multiplied by grants, $3,125

So by simply forming the habit of setting aside any savings from sales, senior discounts, etc., we have sent $1,803.  The total impact, due to matching grants, $10,017!   $10,017 with very minimal effort on our part. 

One other factor we always investigate is the financial records of a charity.  For every dollar we send to World Vision, we know that it is allocated as follows. 

§  16 cents is used for administrative costs and fundraising
§  24 cents is devoted to securing corporate donations, large private donations, and government grants (Wouldn’t that just send some people over the edge?!)
§  60 cents goes to directly benefit the children and their families

That percentage would most surely NOT be satisfactory to me if I did not know all the numbers.   For the 24 cents dedicated to obtaining large donations and grants, World Vision receives 70 cents worth of goods, funds, and/or grants.  So, by adding that 70 cents to the 60 cents of our dollar that are specified for direct aid, the dollar we send actually generates $1.30 for children!  Where else could we get a 30% return on a dollar?  I love the fact that we can only get that kind of yield by giving to little ones.  That just seems right to me.   

I wish Natalia were here.  She could keep track with us and be learning a valuable lesson, all at the same time. I would like that. 

Of course I would be getting a world map out and we would study the various countries where some of our money goes.  We would study the foods produced in, or imported into, a country; the foods NOT  made available to the children of poverty.  Maybe we would prepare a simple recipe.  We could learn at least one word of the languages spoken by the different children.  We would learn about the places in our own country where children do not get enough to eat, and certainly lack adequate nutrition.  I know, I know, I would be obnoxious.  (I’d like to say I would try not to be, but ......really?)

Notwithstanding, I would like that and I do wish she were here to share in this project of her grandma and grandpa (her abuelita and abuelito).  But for now, we can endeavor to help see to the physical and educational needs of children. 

 

July 4, 2013 Part II

During the presidential elections last Fall I heard a lot about “American exceptionalism”.  I personally find such an attitude prideful in the extreme.  But setting aside the arrogance of such a world outlook, I do not see any evidence in the pictures of exceptional thinking, of exceptional problem solving abilities, nothing exceptional about planning for protecting the liberty of the women, children, elderly, and young people who had no say in a decision about war.  I see nothing exceptional at all, unless I count exceptional self-interest.  And, of course there is the exceptional level of greed. 

And then there is the raging battle over the “freedom and liberty” to own guns without restrictions on that ownership.  That is exceptionalism, for sure.  It is exceptionally irresponsible.  It is exceptionally cunning of the NRA and gun manufacturers to twist the message of a horrific slaughter of little 6 year olds at Sandy Hook Elementary.  They have done a remarkably exceptional job of making a tragedy involving mostly children not about them but rather, about adults and their freedoms according to the Second Amendment.  And I find it exceptionally cold, calculating, and greedy, almost beyond what I can comprehend.  It is also exceptionally difficult; no, not just difficult, but impossible, for me to understand how gun owners are not sickened and horrified at what a gun with a high capacity magazine did to little bodies.  I still worry about whether or not the parents were able to hold their dead children.  I hope they did not get to see the children right away, because those little bodies had to be shredded.  If that thought alone does not inspire all of us to demand regulations about gun registration, what will?  I assume the answer is nothing. 

And I, for one, find that exceptionally distressing and sad.  Reducing speed limits in school areas is acceptable to us.  Doing background checks on teachers and others who want to work with children is not only accepted, but demanded. There are parental filters for television programs and computer sites.  All of this is done in the name of protecting our children.  But suggesting a return to a level of gun regulation previously in place and our Constitution and founding fathers are, in my opinion, symbolically removed from their current pedestal to be elevated to a new status of idol worship. 

It appears we are exceptionally devoted to what the founding fathers intended (as interpreted to support our political and/or religious point of view).  Many adamantly maintain that these founding fathers were exceptional Christian men.  (For myself, I would prefer not to take the word of even the most prominent, well-respected historians on that matter.  I would want to know what their slaves said regarding how ‘Christian’ those founding fathers were.)  And now, in addition to the veneration of these men and a dedication to our founding document that, as I see it, bears a semblance to consecration, it seems there is a growing fervor also for guns.  For some it has morphed further, into vehemence against those, like myself, who do not share that zeal for guns and the right of Americans to any and all sorts of guns and ammunition.  I have heard us referred to as the ‘enemy’, no less!

To those who feel so strongly about just how free we are, about how we are the greatest nation on earth, the idea of reflecting on our shortcomings would be considered exceptionally disloyal, exceptionally unpatriotic.  I do not subscribe to that view at all.  When my daughter was very small I had a friend whose children were then teenagers.  I always respected Nancy’s ability to identify her children’s faults and share them so openly.  None of us who were her friends thought she loved her children any less for admitting they were less than perfect.  In fact, I saw it as something I wanted to learn from as a parent.  I thought it a benefit to her children.   They would receive instruction on how to be aware of their human imperfections; on how to work towards minimizing those faults and maximizing their strengths.   

Through Plato’s writings we know Socrates’ wisdom when he said that “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  This attitude works for me.  And I believe it is valuable not only in our individual, internal lives, but very constructive when applied to our community lives as well.  So for me, I hope that by next year’s celebration of our independence, we have examined our societal life and determined that all policy should focus first and foremost on the impact on children, or those, like the elderly, who are equally powerless.  In short, any who should, in a country so frequently referred to as ‘Christian’, and  one described in terms of positive ‘exceptionalism’,  be valued above things, certainly above weapons, and whose lives are better because the rest of us are more than willing to impose some limitations on our rights, some morally fair limitations.   We are willing to view these limitations in the same light as other everyday boundaries we accept for the good of children.  And I speak not only of American children.  I refer to ‘children’, period.  Were that to happen, wouldn't that be a true example of ‘American exceptionalism’?

I found a quote of the Lebanese poet Khalil Gibran (with whose work I am insufficiently educated) that summarizes it beautifully:  “Keep me away from wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh, and the greatness which does not bow before children.”  (Emphasis mine.)

July 4, 2013 - Part I, In My Aunt's Memory

This is in memory of my Aunt Margie, whose 90th birthday would have been today, July 17th.  I thought of her while writing about the children in the following posts.  She loved children.  At one point in life she worked with troubled children through Primary Project.  I remember so distinctly discussing it with her while on a road trip to the funeral of an uncle.  She was interested in and passionate about the children.  She was excellent with children, so that was no surprise to me.  

When our Natalia died, she left us two voice messages.  I asked Allan to record them.  I have two copies, one actually in our safe.  Know why?  Because I thought that if I ever need encouragement about the ability of human beings to be loving and compassionate, I have only to listen to her voice.  I looked up the exact definition of the word 'compassion'.  It was defined as "the deep awareness of the suffering of another, coupled with the wish to relieve it.  

I also looked up 'empathy'.  I was somewhat dumbfounded at what I learned.  I thought I knew what empathy is.  I did not.  It's definition is more narrow and less indicative of feeling than I thought.  Here's what I found empathy to mean:  the intellectual identification of the thoughts, state, or feelings of another; capacity to understand another's point of view or the result of such understanding". 

Two very, very different approaches to the condition or situation of another human being, right?  I always thought empathy was a good thing.  I no longer care about being empathetic.  I do not want to respond to others from an intellectual, emotionally detached  perspective.  I want to be compassionate, like Margie.  I do not want a superficial connection.  I want to care intensely, so much so that I want their hurting to stop; so much so that I am willing to do whatever I can, regardless of how small and insignificant it might seem. 

A message on an answering machine could be thought of as a kind, a 'sweet' thing to do.  But such a simple, everyday gesture can be far more than kind.  It can make a difference; it can help someone.  It didn't take our suffering away; no one could do that.  However, there is something about knowing someone would do so, if only s/he had the ability.  There is real comfort in that.  I truly can't think of anyone who understands that better than my aunt did.  I think of her often, and I can only hope that when I am gone someone will say I lived that same way, exemplifying the full meaning of the word "compassionate". 

Note:  the photos on this post came from this site:

http://blogs.denverpost.com/captured/2011/12/30/captured-nine-years-of-war-in-iraq/5165/

Wow! I didn’t realize it had been almost months since I last wrote something to share.  I knew it had been a long time, but wow!  Lots going on, for sure.   But might as well jump in and put fingers to typing.  I’m on the back screened in porch with a slight breeze, not too much heat or heaviness to the air yet.  And I have my morning coffee…might as well tackle the “freedom and liberty” thing…

I know there are very different and even opposite viewpoints on what these terms really mean.  And some people seem almost hostile (and for some there is no "almost") about just how broad the definitions should be.  I searched several different dictionaries and a thesaurus because I wanted to know if the denotative meanings matched some of the narrow interpretations I hear.  I didn’t find any whatsoever.  If I understand what I am reading “freedom’ is a more general term, referring to the ability to think, act, and speak without the external imposition or restraint.  I guess “liberty” emphasizes more the free will of self-determination.  Interesting, but I’m not sure I see much difference, unless I consider the restrictions of personal liberty when necessary for universal safety and benefit, for example.  I can’t go into a movie theater and yell “Fire!”   I can’t drive over a certain speed limit within a school zone.  (Both, rightly so, as I see it.)    

(As a quick aside, there is a beautiful red bird on the branch of the tree closest to the porch.     Usually    any activity close by and the red birds retreat.  But this one is actually facing me and singing.  It is almost as if it wants my attention.  What a nice way to start a day!) 

Let me consider some of the opinions or reactions I’ve heard that illustrate differing connotations of these terms. 

“People who want to live in our country should assimilate.  If they don’t want to adapt to our ways, they should go back to where they came from.”   (Let me make it very clear that I’ve heard this stance about people who are here legally; even about some who have become citizens.)  I have absolutely no idea how this opinion matches up with the definitions of freedom and liberty.  In fact, to me it implies the exact opposite; it implies that freedom and liberty apply if one acts, looks, speaks, and thinks in the same manner as I do.  So how this fits in with lack of outside constraints, I do not understand.  So, I’m lost here. 

“They come here and don’t try to live according to our rules.”  Although this attitude is really the same as the previous, I include it because it doesn’t imply anything.  It states, without equivocation, that freedom and liberty DO impose restrictions on personal choice; and that those restrictions mean “how we live”.  Shame on me, I’ve always wanted to ask what rules are being referenced, and where can I read and study them.  But, I really do hate sarcasm, so I always refrain.  I just quietly wonder if the person speaking has given any real thought to that statement. But while I’m pondering that question, the person is rushing on to say how precious our liberty is to us.  If it is someone I know or strongly suspect would not be one to engage in real discussion, I let it go and change the subject.  If I have any indication that s/he might be one willing to converse so that we might each learn something, or at least get a new perspective to think over, I respond.  I always begin by saying that I very, very respectfully, but also very strongly disagree.  Then I ask for permission to explain why I do.  Most of the time I get a look of true shock and a mumbled, “yeah, okay”.  I get varied feedback, of course. 

“It’s not wrong to want to be with people like yourself.”  This opinion might be backed up with the declaration that something is lost, such as traditions, ethnicity, etc.  “No, it isn’t wrong”, I reply when I hear this statement.  And then, I have to make that same decision about whether or not it is worth further discussion.  When I decide it is, I just make it clear that, for me, it is enriching to include in my circle people who are NOT just like me.

When I hear this I inevitably think of Bob Ross.  I’ve watched Bob Ross’ PBS television show “The Joy of Painting” a number of times.  ALWAYS Bob gets to a point where I think the painting is really, really good; he should stop.  But I know he won’t because there is time left before the show ends.  So Bob picks up a different brush, or talks about adding another color.  As Bob is doing so I am ALWAYS telling Bob, “No.  No.  It’s really good.  You don’t need anything else.  Leave it as it is!”  Bob does not listen.  He goes right on and might add quite a bit more to the painting.  As he does so, I am ALWAYS responding with “Oh! Yeah!”  (Bob does not seem to need my encouragement, but I am ALWAYS generous with it, appreciated or not.)   To point out the ridiculously obvious, Bob’s finished painting is ALWAYS far better for not having listened to my instruction via the television screen.  The painting has more character, more depth, better composition, more life, more appeal to it. 

That’s how I see my life.  When I make friends who are not like me, who think differently than I, my life is improved and made much better, in the same way Bob’s painting was made better.  Something good is made more, is enhanced, by the addition of more color, more variety.  And Bob didn’t add to only one area of the painting.  He worked around the painting, adding improvement in different areas.  I like that idea for life also; the idea that I don’t want to develop one area of my life, to the exclusion of other areas.  I’d just as soon the different areas of life receive attention and additional work so the composition of the whole is that much better.  And that’s what happens when I look for and try to accept and enjoy those who are so unlike me.  Maybe that’s true because underneath we value the same thing, the right to be who we are and to live life as we want and/or think is best for us. 

A couple more thoughts with respect to the denotative meanings of freedom and liberty.  The definitions I found for freedom included: 1) exemption from external control, interference, etc.,      2) political or national independence,  3) absence of subjection to foreign domination or despotic government.  Know what I thought of?  Iraq.  And irony.  How sad that they go together.  The very nation, our country, that so highly values freedom and liberty, subjected another country to exactly what we absolutely would not stand for, interference from and/or imposition of another country’s determination about what is best for us.  I can’t think of Iraq without thinking of the photograph of an Iraqi mother holding the wrapped body of her 4 year old daughter who was killed two weeks before the war technically ended.  All I can think of is that this woman, along with all the others, and all the other children had no say whatsoever in the decision about going to war.  But because of the decisions of a few people, mostly men, their lives are forever changed.  And if you've lost your child, it is always for the worse.  Always.  Then there is the following picture.

This little 5 year old girl’s parents were killed when the family, in their car, was out and innocently and unknowingly approached the troops during dusk patrol in the city of Tal Afar in January 2005.  Her mother and father died instantly.  Her brother, 11, received a serious wound to the abdomen.  He was paralyzed from the waist down. 

I have to ask myself what this little girl, should she be writing someday, would say about freedom and liberty; and about the country that espouses these principles, so much so that it sees itself as the champion of them.  I also ask myself what the soldiers, most of whom were not much beyond childhood themselves, felt and will feel about the unintentional murders.  My heart goes out to them for having been placed in such a position.  They undoubtedly will never be free of some awful mental images. 

Here are a few more images of what it looked like to bring democracy and freedom to Iraq; images of both the recipients of that freedom and the young men and women who had the job of following orders and delivering that "freedom". 

In his 2003 speech from the USS Abraham Lincoln (no less), when announcing the end of major combat operations in Iraq, President George Bush said, "Those we lost were last seen on duty. Their final act on this earth was to fight a great evil, and bring liberty to others. All of you — all in this generation of our military — have taken up the highest calling of history. You are defending your country, and protecting the innocent from harm. And wherever you go, you carry a message of hope — a message that is ancient, and ever new. In the words of the prophet Isaiah: 'To the captives, 'Come out!' and to those in darkness, Be free!'"  (Emphasis mine.) When I see the faces of the American and Iraqi children, I do wish his words rang true to me.  

The nurse is taking the pulse of a dying soldier.

At another point in his USS Abraham Lincoln speech, President Bush said, "Everywhere that freedom arrives, humanity rejoices.  And everywhere that freedom stirs, let tyrants fear."  To me, this child looks fearful of those arriving with freedom. When her generation is grown to adulthood, what will they think of freedom, I wonder? 

This is an injured Iraqi child being comforted by a neighbor.

Old women waiting in a food line.  They must need the comfort of holding on to one another.

An Iraqi woman hangs onto a truck while waiting for the distribution of food by Iraqi soldiers.  In President Bush's speech referenced above, he said also,  "Men and women in every culture need liberty like they need food, and water, and air."  This picture seems to show a very elderly woman who must be very hungry.  I cannot speak for her, but when I am hungry, I don't care about any ideology.  And I certainly would not care if this were my mother waiting for food.   

Evidently being the recipient of freedom means having soldiers from another country in your kitchen while you wash dishes and the children of the family look on.  I wonder what these very young soldiers think, looking back.

More of President Bush's speech from the USS Abraham Lincoln:

"In the images of fallen statues, we have witnessed the arrival of a new era. For a hundred years of war, culminating in the nuclear age, military technology was designed and deployed to inflict casualties on an ever-growing scale. In defeating Nazi Germany and imperial Japan, Allied Forces destroyed entire cities, while enemy leaders who started the conflict were safe until the final days. Military power was used to end a regime by breaking a nation. Today, we have the greater power to free a nation by breaking a dangerous and aggressive regime. With new tactics and precision weapons, we can achieve military objectives without directing violence against civilians. No device of man can remove the tragedy from war. Yet it is a great advance when the guilty have far more to fear from war than the innocent.  (Emphasis mine.)

He ended his speech with, "Thank you for serving our country and our cause. May God bless you all, and may God continue to bless America."  (Once again, emphasis mine.)

 If God has blessed my country more than any other, as so many believe, why would He do so at the expense of this little girl, and all the other children, American and Iraqi alike, whose sweet, bewildered faces are now saved in the camera of my heart?  And sadly for me, that camera is not digital; the images cannot simply be erased.  

Thanksgiving Tree

I began to write the following before Christmas 2012.  I completed it on January 3rd.  I have just today had the opportunity to add the pictures and post it!  

For Thanksgiving I created a “”Thanksgiving Tree”.  I purchased a clay pot, some heavier sheets of paper, and a few stones at the dollar store.  Allan got some branches from out back which I approved or disapproved for my little project.  (I did not want to purchase sticks/branches normally used for decorating.  I wanted something from outside our screened in porch, which is one of my favorite places in the world, and something I am thankful we have.)  He also found some Styrofoam from the garage, left over from who knows what.  I wanted to have at least 30 “something I’m thankful for ‘leaves’ “ on my tree, one for each day of November.  I put it next to my wooden Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.  I liked that because I love Don Quijote de la Mancha.  (Spelled it with an “x” in English; no idea why, now that I think of it.)

I liked the project and decided against taking my tree down.  So it stayed up during Christmas.  The other day I made the decision to leave it up throughout 2013; to try and add one ‘leaf’ each day.  There will not be room to add too many new ‘thankful leaves’ to the tree, of course.  So I've determined that I will put them around the tree, as if they have fallen off.  If I manage to do this I assume that by next November it will look as it should for the Fall of the year, a lot more leaves on the ground than on the tree. 

I guess the project appeals to me for several reasons.  I find it a good exercise for my psychological diet to pause and make a conscious decision to focus, even for a few short minutes, on the many things for which to be thankful.  Another motivation is my concern that Thanksgiving is being crowded out.  I do not know if I will see it in my lifetime, but I believe we are rapidly losing the importance of setting aside a day for families and friends to get together with the sole purpose of celebrating how blessed we are.  Given the fact that stores have, for the last two years opened on Thanksgiving Day in order to accommodate the Christmas shopping frenzy, to my way of thinking, illustrates, with sharp clarity, the meaning of irony.  I find the idea of Thanksgiving becoming a day of time constraints and one that feeds not only our materialism, but also our competitive nature, that desire to beat the other guy out, troubling.  “Let’s hurry up and eat; the stores open in two hours!” does nothing to feed and strengthen our personal relationships.  It does nothing to refresh our spirits, to stimulate us and lift us up.  By sharing our time and ourselves with one another we are inspired, invigorated, encouraged.  Rather than being nourished, we will, I think, be left hungering, not for physical food, but for that which is equally essential to our well-being.  By focusing on our monetary bank accounts on this one day, we are forgoing the opportunity to make far more valuable and precious deposits into our memory banks.   

I know what some would say.  They would say that memories of camping out or standing in a line for hours with family and/or friends will be something to look back on and remember as fun.  That might well be the case.  For myself, I do not understand the choice to do that which results in memories so limited in richness, so limited in the number of family members/friends who share the making of those memories. 

The first figures I researched indicated that at least $586 billion dollars would be spent for Christmas.  And that did NOT include the anticipated increase in online sales.  If I remember correctly, the online sales were expected to total over $14 billion dollars.  I have not rechecked the data.  Why?  I find it unnecessary.  If I assume even a huge margin of error, on my part, say 20%, the numbers are still mind boggling, are they not? 

I got to thinking about small children the world over, here at home, and abroad, who need food and medicines, just to survive.  If all of those of us who spend for Christmas were willing to give up just 1% of that holiday budget to care for children, just think what the dollar amount would be!  Even allowing me the substantial margin of error named above, the dollars that could shared is astounding!  And how little would be asked of us, just one penny of every dollar!

Let me go back to where I started, my Thanksgiving Tree.  I think in addition to keeping my tree up and trying every day to add a leaf representing something for which I am really thankful, I will try to back that action up with another.  I think I will set aside a penny for every dollar I spend on gifts this year.  And I will also set aside a penny for every dollar I spend on myself.  That way, regardless of where we go as a society with respect to Thanksgiving, I will be working to stay focused on what impact that should have on my personal life. 

In October, upon returning from my aunt’s funeral/memorial service, I wrote about a train ride I had taken with my sister’s grandchildren.  I titled it “Something Special For My Thanksgiving List”.  My brother-in-law has since then sent me a picture.  I’ll include it here.  It will be apparent why I immediately thought of adding the adventure to my Thanksgiving list!