The Weight of it All

“Trying very hard not to let the weight of it all drag me down. I will not let this administration steal my belief in the goodness of people.” — Donna Lutjens

I read this tweet by a friend and thought of the Quaker saying, “this friend speaks my mind.”  Like Donna, I find the daily political news draining.  As my frustration with current White House action grows, anxiety follows and I find myself wondering about some of my fellow citizens.  I question their intelligence, their compassion, their judgment.  When I think of all those Trump voters, it feels as if I am living among strangers.

There is no Trump policy with which I agree.  I think that the new president is ignorant and arrogant; in that position to feed is ego and his bank account.  I feel that his advisors are dishonest and uninformed.  I think that some of the Republican leaders in Congress willfully ignore the damage their party and their president are doing to our nation because they are winning and victory is all they care about.  There is seemingly no end to the daily news of national cruelty brought to us by Donald Trump: immigration raids on hard-working, undocumented people; a trade ban on people coming to the United States in search of the freedom and opportunity that we have historically been proud to offer as a beacon and comfort to the world;  attacks by the president on the court system, as if one branch impugning the integrity of another is just politics-as-usual, not a deadly threat to the very core of our constitutional system.

I could go on and on.

But in the midst of this, I sense a power in the community of resisters that is real and good.  My friends at work have an e-mail chain with action steps we can can take now.  They are small but meaningful and remind us that we are in it together.  Whereas I once would avoid political discussions with strangers, I find myself speaking my mind and finding community.  It’s happened too often to simply be happenstance.  When I picked up my new glasses, the clerk in the show and I shared our pride in the  Women’s March.  At the gas station, the attended heard NPR on my radio and commented that it’s a sea of reason in the insanity; we agree that the Muslim ban is cruel and wrong.  At the Latin American grocery in town, the checkout has jars collecting for immigration lawyers to work for people detained and when I add a dollar the clerks nods and so I say, “we are in this together,” and she smiles.

After the election, as it became clear that Hillary Clinton won the popular vote, I kept saying that fact mattered.  It matters right now more than ever,  There is a majority and it is those of use who see our nation as a beacon of hope; a place where our differences make us stronger.  I believe that America is still here.  It’s in the protests and the donations to the cause we believe in; it’s in the community we find with one another in gas stations and grocery stores; on street corners and at school.  It’s every day for as long as it takes.  The stakes are too great to let the weight of it all drag us down.  Each act of resistance and protest brings us closer together and makes us more powerful.  We are the good that we seek and we will not be silenced.  

Halloween Memories

I love Halloween and the ways in which this evening feels magical as the light fades and children crunch through the leafy sidewalks dressed up as princesses and super heroes in pursuit of candy.   On Monday night, I distributed quite a bit of candy between coughing spells. I even let a couple of little boys use the bathroom (their mom was grateful).

For me, Halloween is about community and good old-fashioned fun.  Though I no-longer have a trick-or-treater of my own, the pleasure of doing our part by answering the door is plenty of fun.  To hear JT open the door, complement costumes, and distribute candy is a sweet reminder of some happy Halloweens he enjoyed.

Here’s to ghosts, goblins, princesses, witches, and candy!

12 Months of Miss Read: May

Miss Read notes that May is her favorite month and I certainly share her pleasure in the month.  Around here, May tends to be mild and with trees leafed out; everywhere I look, there is beauty to be seen.  The month of May finds Miss Read contemplating the role of her school in the life of her town and, as she prepares a celebration of the school’s 100 years, she’s thinking about the school’s central place in the life of her town community:  from celebrations of the Queen Victoria’s 50th year on the throne to the school’s contributions to England’s war effort in the 20th century, the Fair Acre school has been at the center of it all.

My school is less a fixture in the community than it is the actual community; the center of the lives of the families with children enrolled in its grades.  For me, with a child in the school and a job in its hallways, the school is very much the center of our world.  At no time is this is obvious as the month of May, when school days have a frenetic pace as projects and work are completed.  Between early meetings and late baseball games, that day may very well last more than 12 hours.  I think that a school’s most essential contribution is its sense of community.  When that exists, children can take risks and push further, safe in the knowledge that a support net is in place.  For thirteen years, my school has played that role for JT and I and in May, as our school year winds down, it seems fitting to be grateful for that enormous blessing.

Gratitude is a Verb

On Saturday, my school organized for a morning of school-wide community service.  The day started at 7:30 am and ended by early afternoon.  I volunteered to help out, but it must be said that I was there out of duty, not in the spirit of willingness.  I’m ashamed to admit that now, but it’s the truth: I resented not being able to sleep in and spend my Saturday morning as I please.

With a fellow faculty member and six students, I helped to make 180 bag lunches to be distributed by Elijah’s Promise, a local organization that provides food and services to a population of people in need.  In addition to the lunches, we made 300 packets of silverware to be used by the food bank for their annual Thanksgiving feast.

In a little less over three hours, the eight of us put together meals that will feed hungry people in need of a meal.  

I hope that the food is a reminder that someone cares.  Heaven knows that the effort reminded of all the things for which I should be grateful:  my world with plenty to eat, an abundance of people to love, and a warm, safe home.  Mine is a world of privilege and yesterday I had a much-needed reminder of all the ways I should be grateful.   Not a bad way to spend a few hours of my time.

The Kindness of Strangers

Yesterday morning, listening to Morning Edition, I heard a story about the need to register more bone marrow donors, especially potential mixed-race donors.  The interview was with the mother of a little girl named Maya.  Maya is a four-year-old mixed race child (her mother is from her India; her father is of European ancestry).  This story about her need for a donor was a powerful reminder that the advances of the most amazing of sciences, in this case a bone marrow transplant to treat cancer, still rest upon the kindness of strangers.

I have been on the bone marrow registry for eleven years.  I got on the registry when a colleague's son was diagnosed with cancer and needed a bone marrow transplant.  When a child is diagnosed with cancer, there is a feeling of powerlessness that takes hold.  Parents, people devoted to the protection of their young, are suddenly faced with a threat well-beyond their ability to vanquish.  John's cancer diagnosis galvanized our small town; many of us waited in line for the blood draw that would place us on the registry. 

Every few months, I get a newsletter from the registry that confirms my address.  Without doubt, if I am ever called upon to donate, I will step forward to help.  There are 7 billion people in this world; 300 million of them in the United States.  The National Bone Marrow Donor Registry has just 13 million people on the list.  A few more kind strangers would certainly help.