Today’s whole political agenda is frightening in so many ways. One can not read the newspaper (or any other news source) without being confronted with rabid, antagonistic, and largely racist diatribes against people of color, most notably the President of these “united” states and his followers. Truly I am not stupid enough to believe that these ranters and ravers are the majority of our country’s population but their vocal din intentionally muffles the voices of reason without which we do not survive.
Lately I have noticed something of interest. All of these diatribes are not only similar but they are redundant, dialectically and structurally identical, and display a blatant exemplar of faulty or non-existent analysis. Any competent user of the English language would immediately recognize the plagiaristic qualities of cut and paste technology. Cut and paste technology permits lazy thinkers to appropriate words from sources outside their intellectual comprehension, an exercise in faulty, illogical, or nonexistent analysis. My mother’s admonition comes to mind, “It is better to keep one’s mouth shut and let the world think you are a fool than to open your mouth (without thinking) and remove all doubt!”
We as Americans need to wake up and quit squabbling among ourselves. Our survival as a people is not a simple but rather a complex system which has many components. Those components affect each and every one of us. It we allow our inherent, childish, selfish emotions to hide our better nature, we are doomed. The founding fathers spoke of government of the people, by the people, for the people, a clearly stated unity of purpose.
Our early ancestors would reach out and help one another when needs were demonstrated. A forest fire struck the pine woods, the men grabbed needed tools and went to fight the fire. Some of the women fought the fire while others provided food and water. Flood waters came and neighbors came to help families move their possessions to safety. My stepmother wandered out at night and almost fell in the creek. The neighbors snatched her to safety and called me to come home since my father was in the hospital 30 miles away. No one expected monetary payment…payment would come around when a need arose. Those were the times when people understood that we helped each other because only in that way would all of us survive…no questions asked.
A physician we know went to Haiti (through the Dominican Republic) to look for a friend. Although the friend was not found, he did find people who needed help…and he helped because that was part of his upbringing..or as we say…part of his raising. A child needed help and a physician who chose to practice in the ghetto…reached out and did what needed to be done. A hill doctor jumped in his jalopy and drove down hollows , across creeks and bounced between ruts in a dirt road to see his patients. As a child I remember folk paying their doctor bills with a bushel of potatoes, a smoked ham from the family’s smokehouse, fresh canned vegetables, whatever they had to contribute. The community survived and life went on.
The best part of people’s nature is still here but if is being hidden by those who deliberately mislead and misinform others in an effort to disrupt a sane political and governmental response to the needs of ordinary, everyday folk. Corporate America would be willing to ignore the needs of children with handicaps ( a friend who has a child with spina bifida, another friend with an epileptic child…you know those people with pre-existing conditions). It is time to remember what this country is supposed to be about and quit clouding the issues with smokescreens!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Revisiting the Generation of My Elders
The spirits of the family elders are laughing all over Heaven this morning. They have been peeping through the clouds for months now checking on the family and the political climate in this country. (Don't bother telling me what the dearly departed can't do...they did a pretty good job of keeping up with the deeds and misdeeds of my generation when they were on this side of paradise...I doubt their changing sides has stopped any of them! I'm willing to bet my brother is still telling and retelling the Obama election story and has been ever since he crossed over.)
For a generation born on the cusp of the end of slavery, my grandparents saw some remarkable changes in the country, the world and in our little corner of the universe. They went through two World Wars, the Korean Conflict, the Great Depression. That wooden boxed Crosley radio on the table by the front door brought them the news of the world until it was replaced by that small screened black and white television which brought them even more news...some of which was greeted by raised eyebrows I'm sure. The dawn of the Space Age amazed my grandfather (then in his 90's) but he watched several blastoffs! He wouldn't have missed them. He and my grandmother listened and scratched their heads in wonderment at many of the world's changes. Quietly, late at night when I was supposed to be asleep, I'd listen to their comments shared in the companionship of a 70 year marriage.
Politically, they were Republicans....members of the Party of Lincoln...a membership my grandfather maintained proudly until that party betrayed him by nominating Barry Goldwater as their candidate for President. Although deeply disappointed and angry that a man he considered a racist of the worst order would be the nominee...Grandpa made his decision. Since all of his grandchildren had been well schooled in his political views (by him), the Old One decided that it was Final Exam Day and we were all summoned home to West Virginia.
Of course, none of us would have supported Goldwater. We knew that our only viable strategy was to vote for Johnson and we would. For me...facing my first Presidential election, I knew that I would never register as a Republican so I bit the bullet and registered as an Independent (I didn't plan to take the chewing out I expected from Grandpa over my party selection). Yes, I know that there was supposed to be no way he could have found out but...I knew better. Nothing happened in our small town that the elder grapevine didn't communicate faster than a telephone call and in the 60's...most of them didn't have their own phones!
The story has been told before...each of us was questioned as to how he or she would vote. As the youngest voter...I told my grandfather that none of us would vote Republican and to my shock...he was relieved. Then I got brave and asked him what he was going to do because he had never missed a vote in his life and he NEVER crossed party lines. I wasn't prepared for his answer....he wasn't going to vote! In shock I asked him why...and he told me....He was going to die! At 96 years and some months, my grandfather did exactly that.
I changed my party registration and although I may have crossed party lines in local elections...the Republican party has held no interest for me...ever. If it had held any interest...watching them unanimously vote against the Health Care Reform Act in the House of Representatives would have been the final irrevocable nail in coffin. To me the only obvious reason for such obstructionist behavior is blatant RACISM, a refusal to work with a black President of the United States!
This morning...here comes John McCain....another Republican from Arizona...who wants to repeal the Health Care Reform Act! What is it about the Arizona air that creates people with such extremely antagonistic agendas? As a child and a participant of the Civil Rights Age, I don't need an interpreter to recognize the behaviors of extreme and selfish prejudicial behavior. Goldwater, McCain, Klan, Teabaggers, whatever agenda is presented...it may not be identical but, its all the same. This morning, I blocked a former childhood friend on my Facebook page because of the same issue. I have seen rat holes in apartments rented to poor people in Washington, D.C.; a grub worm burrowing into an open sore in a toddler's leg (in that same neighborhood...where I personally paid a doctor friend to ILLEGALLY excise the grub from the child's leg); watched a friend die of a treatable cancer (because she had no health insurance and couldn't pay for a doctor)....and I could go on and maybe on another day I will.
The elders would say that the chickens are finally coming home to roost. They may be right...we'll see.
For a generation born on the cusp of the end of slavery, my grandparents saw some remarkable changes in the country, the world and in our little corner of the universe. They went through two World Wars, the Korean Conflict, the Great Depression. That wooden boxed Crosley radio on the table by the front door brought them the news of the world until it was replaced by that small screened black and white television which brought them even more news...some of which was greeted by raised eyebrows I'm sure. The dawn of the Space Age amazed my grandfather (then in his 90's) but he watched several blastoffs! He wouldn't have missed them. He and my grandmother listened and scratched their heads in wonderment at many of the world's changes. Quietly, late at night when I was supposed to be asleep, I'd listen to their comments shared in the companionship of a 70 year marriage.
Politically, they were Republicans....members of the Party of Lincoln...a membership my grandfather maintained proudly until that party betrayed him by nominating Barry Goldwater as their candidate for President. Although deeply disappointed and angry that a man he considered a racist of the worst order would be the nominee...Grandpa made his decision. Since all of his grandchildren had been well schooled in his political views (by him), the Old One decided that it was Final Exam Day and we were all summoned home to West Virginia.
Of course, none of us would have supported Goldwater. We knew that our only viable strategy was to vote for Johnson and we would. For me...facing my first Presidential election, I knew that I would never register as a Republican so I bit the bullet and registered as an Independent (I didn't plan to take the chewing out I expected from Grandpa over my party selection). Yes, I know that there was supposed to be no way he could have found out but...I knew better. Nothing happened in our small town that the elder grapevine didn't communicate faster than a telephone call and in the 60's...most of them didn't have their own phones!
The story has been told before...each of us was questioned as to how he or she would vote. As the youngest voter...I told my grandfather that none of us would vote Republican and to my shock...he was relieved. Then I got brave and asked him what he was going to do because he had never missed a vote in his life and he NEVER crossed party lines. I wasn't prepared for his answer....he wasn't going to vote! In shock I asked him why...and he told me....He was going to die! At 96 years and some months, my grandfather did exactly that.
I changed my party registration and although I may have crossed party lines in local elections...the Republican party has held no interest for me...ever. If it had held any interest...watching them unanimously vote against the Health Care Reform Act in the House of Representatives would have been the final irrevocable nail in coffin. To me the only obvious reason for such obstructionist behavior is blatant RACISM, a refusal to work with a black President of the United States!
This morning...here comes John McCain....another Republican from Arizona...who wants to repeal the Health Care Reform Act! What is it about the Arizona air that creates people with such extremely antagonistic agendas? As a child and a participant of the Civil Rights Age, I don't need an interpreter to recognize the behaviors of extreme and selfish prejudicial behavior. Goldwater, McCain, Klan, Teabaggers, whatever agenda is presented...it may not be identical but, its all the same. This morning, I blocked a former childhood friend on my Facebook page because of the same issue. I have seen rat holes in apartments rented to poor people in Washington, D.C.; a grub worm burrowing into an open sore in a toddler's leg (in that same neighborhood...where I personally paid a doctor friend to ILLEGALLY excise the grub from the child's leg); watched a friend die of a treatable cancer (because she had no health insurance and couldn't pay for a doctor)....and I could go on and maybe on another day I will.
The elders would say that the chickens are finally coming home to roost. They may be right...we'll see.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Ms. Margaret of Cassville
Family stories passed from one generation to another are sometimes the only way that one generation of a family becomes real and tangible to succeeding generations. In our family, the prime storyteller was my grandfather. He would always respond to the request, "Tell me a story." To my child's mind, he told great stories, stories I in turn, many years later, told my children. Sometimes they listened , mostly they filed the information away into some mental file called "momma's stories." One day when my daughter was in sixth grade....."momma's stories" became real. She came flying in from school with a question.......
"Did my grandmother really shoot up a Ku Klux Klan meeting?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"From Liz (a kid on the next street whose family came from my home town in the Big Sandy Valley)."
"No, my mother did not shoot up a Klan meeting.."
"Liz's mother said her mother told her....."
"Her mother has the story a little mixed up but that's probably not her fault....
The Old ones came out of Virginia after the end of the Civil War......probably around 1869. My great-grandfather's father had taken him out for a walk one day to talk seriously about the future. The older man was worried. He was growing older...in his middle sixties....and his creeping age concerned him greatly.
"You and your family need to head west. You have to keep my grandchildren safe. If I die tomorrow...you lose your home and everything you have worked for....the others will never let you keep the farm or anything else...because you are a black man. ..
William Henry (according to his son) was outfitted with a wagon, a team, and the basic tools he would need to work a farm and enough funds to help buy property. The family packed their basic belongings in the wagon and prepared to head across the mountains.
The farm that they settled was in a small town once called Cassville. The family managed to buy enough acreage to support everyone as long as everyone was willing to work. (Almost a century and half later...part of that small farm is still family owned.) Cassville was and is the setting for this story......
A time arrived when William Henry and his sons had to be away from the farm for two to three days. Miss Margaret would be at home with the women and children of the family. The women could and would see to the farm chores with the help of the older children. Before he left, William Henry loaded the two ancient shotguns with bird shot and put them in a safe place not accessible to children. The men of the family then left to take care of their business. The team pulled the wagon down the holler, through the town and on to the main road and away the menfolk went.
Certain men of the town watched the family's men leave. It was obvious that they would not be returning before dark so the men of the town decided that after dark would be a good time to sneak up on the pasture field hill under three huge walnut trees to build a bonfire and drink white lightning otherwise known as moonshine. To cover up their activities, town men passed the word that there would be a Ku Klux Klan meeting that night at the head of "Nigger Holler."
The women of the town were not fools and there was no Klan in the town. By barefoot grapevine..someone's children were sent from house to house with a message to be passed on to Miss Margaret. When the message got to the family farm..Miss Margaret hatched her own plan. The women would finish all the chores and give the appearance of closing up the house for the night. Miss Margaret and one of her daughters-in-law would take advantage of a clear moonlit night and climb the pasture field hill through the woods. They planned to hide under the hard shell hickory tree on the ridge slightly above the three black walnut trees.
Their vantage point gave them a clear view of the happenings below. The town men gathered , lit their fire and passed the whiskey jugs around. Miss Margaret and her daughter in law watched,listened and waited until the moon began to make its appearance and the town men were very drunk. She then propped the first gun against a tree branch and aimed for the center of the fire. KABOOM....she fired...the burning cinders exploded out from the fire. The drunks were caught by surprise and ran around knocking cinders off each other. Miss Margaret took the second gun and aimed into the middle of the gathering. KABOOM! The drunk men bolted down the hill toward town...screaming...yelling...and cursing.
The next day, Miss Margaret took her basket of eggs and butter to sell in town. As she walked through town...women came out of their houses to make purchases and someone whispered that the women were forming a Women's Christian Temperance Union that very week and had she heard.....some of the men had gotten drunk last night, shot each other up and were over at Dr. York's house getting birdshot picked out of their skin? Would she have more butter and eggs to sell next week?
The WCTU was formed at the Methodist Church, the Klan never appeared in Cassville again and Miss Margaret sold a lot of butter and eggs.
"Did my grandmother really shoot up a Ku Klux Klan meeting?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"From Liz (a kid on the next street whose family came from my home town in the Big Sandy Valley)."
"No, my mother did not shoot up a Klan meeting.."
"Liz's mother said her mother told her....."
"Her mother has the story a little mixed up but that's probably not her fault....
The Old ones came out of Virginia after the end of the Civil War......probably around 1869. My great-grandfather's father had taken him out for a walk one day to talk seriously about the future. The older man was worried. He was growing older...in his middle sixties....and his creeping age concerned him greatly.
"You and your family need to head west. You have to keep my grandchildren safe. If I die tomorrow...you lose your home and everything you have worked for....the others will never let you keep the farm or anything else...because you are a black man. ..
William Henry (according to his son) was outfitted with a wagon, a team, and the basic tools he would need to work a farm and enough funds to help buy property. The family packed their basic belongings in the wagon and prepared to head across the mountains.
The farm that they settled was in a small town once called Cassville. The family managed to buy enough acreage to support everyone as long as everyone was willing to work. (Almost a century and half later...part of that small farm is still family owned.) Cassville was and is the setting for this story......
A time arrived when William Henry and his sons had to be away from the farm for two to three days. Miss Margaret would be at home with the women and children of the family. The women could and would see to the farm chores with the help of the older children. Before he left, William Henry loaded the two ancient shotguns with bird shot and put them in a safe place not accessible to children. The men of the family then left to take care of their business. The team pulled the wagon down the holler, through the town and on to the main road and away the menfolk went.
Certain men of the town watched the family's men leave. It was obvious that they would not be returning before dark so the men of the town decided that after dark would be a good time to sneak up on the pasture field hill under three huge walnut trees to build a bonfire and drink white lightning otherwise known as moonshine. To cover up their activities, town men passed the word that there would be a Ku Klux Klan meeting that night at the head of "Nigger Holler."
The women of the town were not fools and there was no Klan in the town. By barefoot grapevine..someone's children were sent from house to house with a message to be passed on to Miss Margaret. When the message got to the family farm..Miss Margaret hatched her own plan. The women would finish all the chores and give the appearance of closing up the house for the night. Miss Margaret and one of her daughters-in-law would take advantage of a clear moonlit night and climb the pasture field hill through the woods. They planned to hide under the hard shell hickory tree on the ridge slightly above the three black walnut trees.
Their vantage point gave them a clear view of the happenings below. The town men gathered , lit their fire and passed the whiskey jugs around. Miss Margaret and her daughter in law watched,listened and waited until the moon began to make its appearance and the town men were very drunk. She then propped the first gun against a tree branch and aimed for the center of the fire. KABOOM....she fired...the burning cinders exploded out from the fire. The drunks were caught by surprise and ran around knocking cinders off each other. Miss Margaret took the second gun and aimed into the middle of the gathering. KABOOM! The drunk men bolted down the hill toward town...screaming...yelling...and cursing.
The next day, Miss Margaret took her basket of eggs and butter to sell in town. As she walked through town...women came out of their houses to make purchases and someone whispered that the women were forming a Women's Christian Temperance Union that very week and had she heard.....some of the men had gotten drunk last night, shot each other up and were over at Dr. York's house getting birdshot picked out of their skin? Would she have more butter and eggs to sell next week?
The WCTU was formed at the Methodist Church, the Klan never appeared in Cassville again and Miss Margaret sold a lot of butter and eggs.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Excuses, Ironies and Noise Incorporated!
"The computer is fun to play with but why should I learn to do anything else with it?
"School is not important...I'm going to put in my application at the (automobile) plant on Monday!
"What do you mean..I'm not graduating with my class? You didn't teach me anything (of course I have skipped your class since October)! Just give me my makeup work, I'll have it in on Monday...
"What do you mean...copying my term paper word for word from the internet is an automatic F?
"I'll put my cell phone up as soon as I text the answers to your test to my friend across the room...
"The answers on both our papers are the same...there is no way I could have flunked..wait a minute...the questions are different...that's not fair!
"Why should my son have an F...It doesn't matter that he was late to class every day of the semester...so what if he was only there ten minutes a day...of course I got your message on my answering machine..I didn't have time to call you back...
"Yeah, I signed for your syllabus with the class requirements...but I didn't think my kid had to do all that stuff...that's a lot of work....
"I don't care if final exams are next week and its the end of the semester.....our family is going on vacation to Florida...can't you schedule the tests some other time?
"You black teachers don't know anything..you don't have any education...everyone knows black people are dumb (from a "black" parent)....
"I want my child transferred to a white teacher 'cause everybody knows these black teachers are ignorant (from a white parent).....
"All it says is that I have to take the class, it didn't say I have to pass the class!
"I don't care if my daughter is the top student in Honors Spanish IV. She is dropping the class and going to work ......she doesn't need to know a foreign language..she needs to help me pay the bills!
"Yeah...I'm going to engineering school but this is my senior year...I'm dropping Mr. Jones' calculus class...he gives too much homework and I need to have some fun..besides I haven't done any work and I have a failing interim and that will mess up my Grade Point Average...and I'm number 1 in my class...!
"How do you know this student is high on drugs....he comes from a fine family...no I have no idea how a five foot tall, 120 pound male child could throw an oak sudent desk weighing close to 40 pounds the 35 foot length of your classroom and make a dent in the wall.......or why he then fell on the floor and started having convulsions...
(from an elderly principal who skipped the in-service on PCP and its affects on young teenagers....never saw this kid again...he is still in the state hospital...)
"You can'd flunk me just because my homework is written in four different handwritings!"
"My son can't be skipping school...I just dropped him off at the front door...You say you can see him from the window and he is walking away from school...the mounted police officer is walking him back to school...you must be mistaken...hold on a minute, I have another call....I apologize, the police just called me...they picked my kid up walking down the alley behind the school..."
"I know we laid you off on Wednesday...but we don't have anyone else with the right certification to teach your class....so can you come in on Monday (and every day until the end of the semester)!"
"We can't order any more textbooks...your textbook is out of print...I have no idea how you are supposed to teach a class of forty students when they have no books!"
"I'm not going to get upset because my daughter stole your extra textbook off your desk...it wasn't the teacher's edition...that's the book I told her to take..I don't care if it was a personal copy and you paid for it...."
"I know I changed your teaching schedule without asking you, changed your room and gave it to another teacher, cost you the extra pay for chairmanship of the department I moved you out of, overloaded your classes, but I don't understand why you are retiring!"
As the principal unlocks my door (in the middle of class) and asks why I sent a female student home (because her red thong underwear was showing above the waist of her too-tight jeans) "I don't see anything wrong with how she is dressed!"
As the same principal stomps into my classroom during my planning period...glares at the 20 seniors who came in an hour early to finish their homework..."What class is this...why are they out of control!" I pull my glasses down on my nose in imitation of my father, "I't senior study hall and none of them have a class this hour and neither do I!" The principal rapidly back pedals out of the room and disappears down the hall. The seniors finish their homework and keep on talking.
Time passes and I move on.
"School is not important...I'm going to put in my application at the (automobile) plant on Monday!
"What do you mean..I'm not graduating with my class? You didn't teach me anything (of course I have skipped your class since October)! Just give me my makeup work, I'll have it in on Monday...
"What do you mean...copying my term paper word for word from the internet is an automatic F?
"I'll put my cell phone up as soon as I text the answers to your test to my friend across the room...
"The answers on both our papers are the same...there is no way I could have flunked..wait a minute...the questions are different...that's not fair!
"Why should my son have an F...It doesn't matter that he was late to class every day of the semester...so what if he was only there ten minutes a day...of course I got your message on my answering machine..I didn't have time to call you back...
"Yeah, I signed for your syllabus with the class requirements...but I didn't think my kid had to do all that stuff...that's a lot of work....
"I don't care if final exams are next week and its the end of the semester.....our family is going on vacation to Florida...can't you schedule the tests some other time?
"You black teachers don't know anything..you don't have any education...everyone knows black people are dumb (from a "black" parent)....
"I want my child transferred to a white teacher 'cause everybody knows these black teachers are ignorant (from a white parent).....
"All it says is that I have to take the class, it didn't say I have to pass the class!
"I don't care if my daughter is the top student in Honors Spanish IV. She is dropping the class and going to work ......she doesn't need to know a foreign language..she needs to help me pay the bills!
"Yeah...I'm going to engineering school but this is my senior year...I'm dropping Mr. Jones' calculus class...he gives too much homework and I need to have some fun..besides I haven't done any work and I have a failing interim and that will mess up my Grade Point Average...and I'm number 1 in my class...!
"How do you know this student is high on drugs....he comes from a fine family...no I have no idea how a five foot tall, 120 pound male child could throw an oak sudent desk weighing close to 40 pounds the 35 foot length of your classroom and make a dent in the wall.......or why he then fell on the floor and started having convulsions...
(from an elderly principal who skipped the in-service on PCP and its affects on young teenagers....never saw this kid again...he is still in the state hospital...)
"You can'd flunk me just because my homework is written in four different handwritings!"
"My son can't be skipping school...I just dropped him off at the front door...You say you can see him from the window and he is walking away from school...the mounted police officer is walking him back to school...you must be mistaken...hold on a minute, I have another call....I apologize, the police just called me...they picked my kid up walking down the alley behind the school..."
"I know we laid you off on Wednesday...but we don't have anyone else with the right certification to teach your class....so can you come in on Monday (and every day until the end of the semester)!"
"We can't order any more textbooks...your textbook is out of print...I have no idea how you are supposed to teach a class of forty students when they have no books!"
"I'm not going to get upset because my daughter stole your extra textbook off your desk...it wasn't the teacher's edition...that's the book I told her to take..I don't care if it was a personal copy and you paid for it...."
"I know I changed your teaching schedule without asking you, changed your room and gave it to another teacher, cost you the extra pay for chairmanship of the department I moved you out of, overloaded your classes, but I don't understand why you are retiring!"
As the principal unlocks my door (in the middle of class) and asks why I sent a female student home (because her red thong underwear was showing above the waist of her too-tight jeans) "I don't see anything wrong with how she is dressed!"
As the same principal stomps into my classroom during my planning period...glares at the 20 seniors who came in an hour early to finish their homework..."What class is this...why are they out of control!" I pull my glasses down on my nose in imitation of my father, "I't senior study hall and none of them have a class this hour and neither do I!" The principal rapidly back pedals out of the room and disappears down the hall. The seniors finish their homework and keep on talking.
Time passes and I move on.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Brother, I Fixed Your Cigarettes!
My only brother was a generation ahead of me...so much so that when his army commanding officer told him that his mother had had a baby (me) he was ready to argue that the senior officer must have it wrong, surely his sister, who was a year younger than he, had had a baby. I'm pretty sure he was rather shocked when he got home from World War II and there was a toddler walking around the house. Not too long after that, my two year old self got even with him for dissing me. How did I do that? I remember it well....
World War II and its aftermath was a time of world turmoil...not only in the battle zones but also on the home front. My newly widowed father traded his ration coupons for women's stockings for (canned) milk coupons to feed the baby (me). Hill folk have always figured a way to work through hard times. The history books talked about people planting "victory gardens" and I remember asking how these "victory gardens" were different from every day gardens which everyone in the neighborhood planted? I don;t remember getting an answer but then, I really didn't need one. I know, I'm digressing from my story.
Tobacco was rationed during war times and i don't really remember it being too plentiful after the war was ended. At any rate, when my brothr came home he had developed a smoking habit...manufactured cigarettes...not roll your own like many folks did. Think I remember a camel on the package that he kept sitting in the window of his bedroom. On this particuoar day, Daddy had a new rifle and he and my brother were sitting on the garden steps taking target practice against the bull bats that used to flock over for hours. I had been sent in the house and told to stay,. Daddy was not to be disobeyed so I was in the house trying to find a window to watch from. If I sat on my brother's bed, I could see them perfectly, so there I was...watching...and then...I spotted that carton of cigarettes and a large empty ash tray. Very carefully, I opened each pack of cigarettes and then...each cigarette and carefully piled all that tobacco in the ash tray..until all the cigarettes were gone.
Much later, I remember telling Harry, "Brother, I fixed your cigarettes!" The only thing that saved me that day is that Daddy picked me up and carried me the 150 feet down the hill to my grandmother. Daddy didn't smoke cigarettes....he would occasionally light the tip of a cigar...chew the other end flat and throw the whole thing away...so I doubt if he was that upset....but my brother was angry for a long, long time.
World War II and its aftermath was a time of world turmoil...not only in the battle zones but also on the home front. My newly widowed father traded his ration coupons for women's stockings for (canned) milk coupons to feed the baby (me). Hill folk have always figured a way to work through hard times. The history books talked about people planting "victory gardens" and I remember asking how these "victory gardens" were different from every day gardens which everyone in the neighborhood planted? I don;t remember getting an answer but then, I really didn't need one. I know, I'm digressing from my story.
Tobacco was rationed during war times and i don't really remember it being too plentiful after the war was ended. At any rate, when my brothr came home he had developed a smoking habit...manufactured cigarettes...not roll your own like many folks did. Think I remember a camel on the package that he kept sitting in the window of his bedroom. On this particuoar day, Daddy had a new rifle and he and my brother were sitting on the garden steps taking target practice against the bull bats that used to flock over for hours. I had been sent in the house and told to stay,. Daddy was not to be disobeyed so I was in the house trying to find a window to watch from. If I sat on my brother's bed, I could see them perfectly, so there I was...watching...and then...I spotted that carton of cigarettes and a large empty ash tray. Very carefully, I opened each pack of cigarettes and then...each cigarette and carefully piled all that tobacco in the ash tray..until all the cigarettes were gone.
Much later, I remember telling Harry, "Brother, I fixed your cigarettes!" The only thing that saved me that day is that Daddy picked me up and carried me the 150 feet down the hill to my grandmother. Daddy didn't smoke cigarettes....he would occasionally light the tip of a cigar...chew the other end flat and throw the whole thing away...so I doubt if he was that upset....but my brother was angry for a long, long time.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Because You Can????????
Now let me see, a man is caught carrying an assault rifle at an appearance by the President of the United States and he is still walking around freely? A news organization has films of other civilians carrying guns at an appearance by the President of the United States? They are all walking around freely? THERE IS SOMETHING GRAVELY WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE!
In 1963, there was a man in Texas carrying a rifle during an appearance by the President of the United States. That rifle carrier shot and killed the President of the United States. Why? Because he could? That infamous day in history still sticks in my mind and it always will. I was alone in the newspaper office that day. Because of my college class schedule, I reported to the newspaper office at shortly after 11:30. Officially, the office was closed but in order to get my scheduled work hours completed, I went in that day during the lunch break. The office and print shop were quiet...everyone else had gone to lunch. I had story notes to work on and in the quiet of the office, I could stare at the typewriter, get my thoughts together and write. I remember the phone ringing and I thinking it may have been my editor, W. Foster "Pap" Adams, I answered the phone. The voice on the other end of the line asked what I had heard about Dallas...that some one had said the President had been shot, All I could say was that I didn't know for sure and since I was the only person in the office, I could check but as soon as the next person came in, I would call back and let them know.
I remember thinkinbg that this couuldn't be true...shooting a President didn't happen in a civilized world..after all this was 1963...not 1865...people didn't do such crazy stuff...did they? I called my roommate and asked her to bring the portable radio when she left our dormitory room on her way to class. I remember Marguerite arguing with me...she was listening to the news. I remember telling her that it was my damn radio and it had batteries in it...to just bring it when she came by the newspaper office since she had to pass that building on her way to class.
By the time I actually had the radio..it was obviously true,,,not only had someone shot the President of the United States...someone had killed the President of the United States. The news was confirmed and I like many young people (and some not so young people) across the nation was in a state of shock. How could this be? If "they" could shoot and kill John Fitzgerald Kennedy in broad, open, daylight in Dallas, Texas, in front of a crowd.....were any of us safe...anywhere...anyhow? Students banded together in small groups...we desperately needed the proximity of one another...that proximity gave us the illusion of safety,,,maybe we could protect one another,,,more reasonably..we felt an illusory safety in numbers.
That day and every day until John Kennedy was laid to rest in Arlington Cemetery...we clung to each other and to our mentors..our teachers,,,our elder friends. None of us wanted to be alone...we stayed in our small groups..we grieved the loss of innocence,,,the anguish of reality hit hard. Little did we realize that this was only the first of three asassinations that would disrupt our illusion of safety over the next five years.
The governmental powers assured us that our president would be safe..that he would be protected and that we would not experience such a calamity again. I think I actually believed that until it was announced that Lyndon B. Johnson would speak the the University of Kentucky in the spring. Since I had never seen a sitting president, I wanted to attend this speech. Our newspaper went through all the pre scribed steps to get appropriate credentials for me (according to a two page letter from the U.S. Secret Service). The day arrived and I dressed (professionally) to catch the bus from Berea to Lexington. Since I would be catching the last bus in that evening, I grabbed my jeans and a sweat shirt, rolled them up military style (like my brother had taught me) and placed them in my handtooled leather shoulder bag that my father had given me. My camera (that precious Argus C-3 that I had purchased from a photographer friend) was put atop my clothes and locked in my bag. Off I went to the UK field house...to the appropriate press entrance...where I pulled out my credentials...expecting to be searched or at least checked in by the Secret Service. NOBODY checked me in...nobody searched my purse...all I did was walk in. (That's right - I walked in unchallenged, unverified, unchecked and I walked out steaming mad!) I don't remember what President Johnson said that day but I remember telling "Pap" Addams that there was no way I would write a story on the speech but I had plenty to say. That was my first editorial and he gave be my precious by-line....focused pointedly on what I considered a total lack of security surrounding the President of the United States!
Here we are today in the 21st Century. Lunatics are irresponsibly carrying guns and assault weapons near where our PRESIDENT is speaking and they are not arrested...not stopped...allowed to go on about their lunatic way! The 44th President of the United States is a black man and whether a threat is real or merely implied doesn't make a damn bit of difference, Don't hand me that garbage about the Constitutional right to carry a weapon. My father was a gun collector, my brother was a gun collector, I was taught to handle a gun when I was quite young. I don't need to brag about my competence with a weapon and I don't need to carry a weapon in a public place (Of course, I am a black woman...I would have been thrown under the jail house if I had been caught publicly with a weapon.... permit or no permit!) What happened to responsibility,rational thought, and common sense? Why buy the excuse..."because I can!" Many individuals in black communities have had guns stripped from them but these other people can carry guns around our PRESIDENT and nothing is done? There is obviously a disconnect here.
Lets get my position clearly defined. For years I was the gun owner in my house. My father gave me my first gun when I was single and lived in a northern Ohio city. One night some would be thief tried to break in my house. This person was not successful for two reasons. The strong, solid wood door was double bolted and there was a set of sharp teeth barking loudly on the other side of the door.....which imjediately resulted in all the lights in the house being turned on. Immediately...breaking in that house was too risky. The next day I drove home and picked up a shotgun and shells loaded with buckshot. If ever I was forced to load and shoot that gun, the intruder would probably still be alive but in a great deal of pain as the shot was picked out of his torso in the emergency room! There are other factors here that must be considered. Did I know how to use the gun? Yes, and that was a lesson learned from the respnsible adults in my childhood. REMEMBER...THAT GUN IS NOT A TOY! Later in life, when my children were small and I was on the highway between the East Coast and home in the mountains, there was a weapon in my vehicle...a loaded one that I could get to if necessary. Did I know how to use that weapon? NEVER POINT A GUN AT ANOTHER HUMAN BEING UNLESS YOU INTEND TO USE IT! The last gun I owned, I kept for sentimental reasons...it was my father's and since I am now old...he no longeer lives except in memory. The key to gun ownership is RESPONSIBILITY.
I do not think carrying an assault weapon in a crowd, in an urban area is responsible ownership. Personally unless one is a weapons dealer (or an assassin), why own a weapon that is designed to kill other human beings? Why would any sane individual carry a weapon to a political rally? The implied threat is so obvious that a child would run screaming and given the history of the last sixty years in this country, I would be leaving promptly. If I have to carry a weapon to a political rally to feel safe....I don't need to be there and neither does any other rational person. GUNS ARE NOT TOYS nor are they justification for bragging rights. There is a huge difference between sportsmen who own hunting weapons or folk who keep a secured gun to protect the safety of their home and these lamebrains who play "dare me" with their "because I can" excuses. "Methinks something is rotten in Denmark" oh,oh....I mean Arizona!
In 1963, there was a man in Texas carrying a rifle during an appearance by the President of the United States. That rifle carrier shot and killed the President of the United States. Why? Because he could? That infamous day in history still sticks in my mind and it always will. I was alone in the newspaper office that day. Because of my college class schedule, I reported to the newspaper office at shortly after 11:30. Officially, the office was closed but in order to get my scheduled work hours completed, I went in that day during the lunch break. The office and print shop were quiet...everyone else had gone to lunch. I had story notes to work on and in the quiet of the office, I could stare at the typewriter, get my thoughts together and write. I remember the phone ringing and I thinking it may have been my editor, W. Foster "Pap" Adams, I answered the phone. The voice on the other end of the line asked what I had heard about Dallas...that some one had said the President had been shot, All I could say was that I didn't know for sure and since I was the only person in the office, I could check but as soon as the next person came in, I would call back and let them know.
I remember thinkinbg that this couuldn't be true...shooting a President didn't happen in a civilized world..after all this was 1963...not 1865...people didn't do such crazy stuff...did they? I called my roommate and asked her to bring the portable radio when she left our dormitory room on her way to class. I remember Marguerite arguing with me...she was listening to the news. I remember telling her that it was my damn radio and it had batteries in it...to just bring it when she came by the newspaper office since she had to pass that building on her way to class.
By the time I actually had the radio..it was obviously true,,,not only had someone shot the President of the United States...someone had killed the President of the United States. The news was confirmed and I like many young people (and some not so young people) across the nation was in a state of shock. How could this be? If "they" could shoot and kill John Fitzgerald Kennedy in broad, open, daylight in Dallas, Texas, in front of a crowd.....were any of us safe...anywhere...anyhow? Students banded together in small groups...we desperately needed the proximity of one another...that proximity gave us the illusion of safety,,,maybe we could protect one another,,,more reasonably..we felt an illusory safety in numbers.
That day and every day until John Kennedy was laid to rest in Arlington Cemetery...we clung to each other and to our mentors..our teachers,,,our elder friends. None of us wanted to be alone...we stayed in our small groups..we grieved the loss of innocence,,,the anguish of reality hit hard. Little did we realize that this was only the first of three asassinations that would disrupt our illusion of safety over the next five years.
The governmental powers assured us that our president would be safe..that he would be protected and that we would not experience such a calamity again. I think I actually believed that until it was announced that Lyndon B. Johnson would speak the the University of Kentucky in the spring. Since I had never seen a sitting president, I wanted to attend this speech. Our newspaper went through all the pre scribed steps to get appropriate credentials for me (according to a two page letter from the U.S. Secret Service). The day arrived and I dressed (professionally) to catch the bus from Berea to Lexington. Since I would be catching the last bus in that evening, I grabbed my jeans and a sweat shirt, rolled them up military style (like my brother had taught me) and placed them in my handtooled leather shoulder bag that my father had given me. My camera (that precious Argus C-3 that I had purchased from a photographer friend) was put atop my clothes and locked in my bag. Off I went to the UK field house...to the appropriate press entrance...where I pulled out my credentials...expecting to be searched or at least checked in by the Secret Service. NOBODY checked me in...nobody searched my purse...all I did was walk in. (That's right - I walked in unchallenged, unverified, unchecked and I walked out steaming mad!) I don't remember what President Johnson said that day but I remember telling "Pap" Addams that there was no way I would write a story on the speech but I had plenty to say. That was my first editorial and he gave be my precious by-line....focused pointedly on what I considered a total lack of security surrounding the President of the United States!
Here we are today in the 21st Century. Lunatics are irresponsibly carrying guns and assault weapons near where our PRESIDENT is speaking and they are not arrested...not stopped...allowed to go on about their lunatic way! The 44th President of the United States is a black man and whether a threat is real or merely implied doesn't make a damn bit of difference, Don't hand me that garbage about the Constitutional right to carry a weapon. My father was a gun collector, my brother was a gun collector, I was taught to handle a gun when I was quite young. I don't need to brag about my competence with a weapon and I don't need to carry a weapon in a public place (Of course, I am a black woman...I would have been thrown under the jail house if I had been caught publicly with a weapon.... permit or no permit!) What happened to responsibility,rational thought, and common sense? Why buy the excuse..."because I can!" Many individuals in black communities have had guns stripped from them but these other people can carry guns around our PRESIDENT and nothing is done? There is obviously a disconnect here.
Lets get my position clearly defined. For years I was the gun owner in my house. My father gave me my first gun when I was single and lived in a northern Ohio city. One night some would be thief tried to break in my house. This person was not successful for two reasons. The strong, solid wood door was double bolted and there was a set of sharp teeth barking loudly on the other side of the door.....which imjediately resulted in all the lights in the house being turned on. Immediately...breaking in that house was too risky. The next day I drove home and picked up a shotgun and shells loaded with buckshot. If ever I was forced to load and shoot that gun, the intruder would probably still be alive but in a great deal of pain as the shot was picked out of his torso in the emergency room! There are other factors here that must be considered. Did I know how to use the gun? Yes, and that was a lesson learned from the respnsible adults in my childhood. REMEMBER...THAT GUN IS NOT A TOY! Later in life, when my children were small and I was on the highway between the East Coast and home in the mountains, there was a weapon in my vehicle...a loaded one that I could get to if necessary. Did I know how to use that weapon? NEVER POINT A GUN AT ANOTHER HUMAN BEING UNLESS YOU INTEND TO USE IT! The last gun I owned, I kept for sentimental reasons...it was my father's and since I am now old...he no longeer lives except in memory. The key to gun ownership is RESPONSIBILITY.
I do not think carrying an assault weapon in a crowd, in an urban area is responsible ownership. Personally unless one is a weapons dealer (or an assassin), why own a weapon that is designed to kill other human beings? Why would any sane individual carry a weapon to a political rally? The implied threat is so obvious that a child would run screaming and given the history of the last sixty years in this country, I would be leaving promptly. If I have to carry a weapon to a political rally to feel safe....I don't need to be there and neither does any other rational person. GUNS ARE NOT TOYS nor are they justification for bragging rights. There is a huge difference between sportsmen who own hunting weapons or folk who keep a secured gun to protect the safety of their home and these lamebrains who play "dare me" with their "because I can" excuses. "Methinks something is rotten in Denmark" oh,oh....I mean Arizona!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Family of Man
Our family is of mixed blood and I choose not to get into a discussion of just how “mixed” we are. That ultimately does not matter, We are who we are. The defining word is FAMILY and if you are murky of thought enough to step on the toes of one of my family members, I just may have to step back on yours (on your foot, not on your family members)! That is the essence of family .... we all hang together for survival purposes or we hang separately and do not survive. It seems to me that this credo is also a significant part of the foundation that underscores the United States of America. There is a viciousness of spirit afoot in these political times that frankly exemplifies a callousness of spirit …an inability to be in the least sensitive to the feelings of others, an inability to exhibit anything other than the ultimate selfishness, a totally ego driven monologue!
Homeless people ( and that could easily be you or me or almost anyone we know) are being arrested for being on the streets of many cities and yet, they have no place to go, One of my sons watched a police car (from a nearby small town) pull into the city and immediately pull over to the curb. From the bar separated back seat, a thin man with his pitiful belongings contained in a (what was once) an olive green military rucksack was put out of the car. The policeman executed an illegal u-turn and returned in the direction of his community of origin. His former passenger stood for a moment on the city sidewalk and then finally picked up his rucksack and trudged off in the general direction of one of the local homeless shelters. If he was hungry, he dare not be caught asking for food..if so…he would be arrested for illegal vagrancy in that particular urban jurisdiction. If he had no verifiable address, he could not even ask for food stamps or even a survival welfare payment…what could he do? This old fellow with the rucksack was not as lucky as the elderly man who stopped me one day as I came out of Arby’s in the down town area (of the same city) and asked, oh so quietly, if I had enough money to get him something to eat. Luckily on that day, I had a twenty in my jeans pocket which I handed to my son with the request that whatever the elder man wanted, would be purchased. To my surprise, the elder asked for only a child’s meal. Quietly I told him that he would have anything he wanted that he did not have to take the cheapest meal on the menu. Very gently he replied that this was all he needed…that he really couldn’t eat any more. He got his food, my son and I went our way as the elder man went his way. I have never seen him since that day but I often find myself wondering about him and wondering if I could have done more. He could so easily have been a member of my family or anyone else’s family. He belonged to someone...somewhere.
During the Great Depression ... a lone man came down the holler (hollow to you non Appalachians) to my grandparents house. He walked along the creek through the pasture and crossed the bridge between the hen house and the smoke house , then knocked on the kitchen door. My grandparents opened the door, invited him in and asked if he was hungry. They fed him from the family’s food that day and seated him at the kitchen table. He had only one other request. He’d noticed that the family had a barn and a hayloft. He had been sick for several days as he rode the freight train and he was tired. Could he sleep in the hay loft that night? It would be warm and safe and spring nights in the mountains can be cold. The grandparents agreed that this would be no problem and did he need a blanket or two. He stayed several days and nights but ... just never seemed to get any better. Finally, one fateful morning when Grampa went to carry him food, he found that the stranger had died during the night. The family elders gathered together and decided that they would treat him as a member of the family and if this being so…if ever a family member was lost and broke and far from home…maybe someone else would take them in. The old ones went to the top of the mountain to the family cemetery and dug his grave. They gathered everyone together to speak Words over the stranger and laid him in the ground near the great-grandparents. As a child, I often asked Granny who this stranger was. Her only reply was that they had never asked his name…they only knew that he needed help and they were willing to help. Every Decoration Day of my childhood Granny made sure that flowers were put on the stranger’s grave just like on the graves of the rest of the family.
The wealth of our family has always been in one another…not in dollars and coins. Granny was a giant at 4 feet 11 inches and her teachings have come down through the generations. Probably the most important lesson she taught us was to be civil with one another, to never deliberately try to inflict hurt (physical or emotional) on each other or on any other human being. That lady had no tolerance for bigotry (and she had very good reasons) or for intolerance. We didn’t have to agree with one another but we did have to think, to reason, to be civil with one another because after all, “God Doesn’t like UGLY!”
Arguments are not won by distorting the truth or by lying. You don’t spread rumor or innuendo and you don’t threaten bodily harm on one another. Another statement Granny used to say was “You are your brother’s keeper!” I never realized how unique her perceptions were and as a child I probably never valued her teachings as much as I do now. I am tired of these people who will not reach out a hand to help others, who think they are too good to help the homeless, or people without health insurance, or the poverty stricken mother with small children, or even the immigrant family who came to this country seeking a better life. Seems like I want to remind these folk that unless you are a person descended from the Native American standing on the shore watching the ships arrive…we are all immigrants illegal or legal! Did anyone’s ancestors ask the Native American for permission to settle here? I thought not!
Homeless people ( and that could easily be you or me or almost anyone we know) are being arrested for being on the streets of many cities and yet, they have no place to go, One of my sons watched a police car (from a nearby small town) pull into the city and immediately pull over to the curb. From the bar separated back seat, a thin man with his pitiful belongings contained in a (what was once) an olive green military rucksack was put out of the car. The policeman executed an illegal u-turn and returned in the direction of his community of origin. His former passenger stood for a moment on the city sidewalk and then finally picked up his rucksack and trudged off in the general direction of one of the local homeless shelters. If he was hungry, he dare not be caught asking for food..if so…he would be arrested for illegal vagrancy in that particular urban jurisdiction. If he had no verifiable address, he could not even ask for food stamps or even a survival welfare payment…what could he do? This old fellow with the rucksack was not as lucky as the elderly man who stopped me one day as I came out of Arby’s in the down town area (of the same city) and asked, oh so quietly, if I had enough money to get him something to eat. Luckily on that day, I had a twenty in my jeans pocket which I handed to my son with the request that whatever the elder man wanted, would be purchased. To my surprise, the elder asked for only a child’s meal. Quietly I told him that he would have anything he wanted that he did not have to take the cheapest meal on the menu. Very gently he replied that this was all he needed…that he really couldn’t eat any more. He got his food, my son and I went our way as the elder man went his way. I have never seen him since that day but I often find myself wondering about him and wondering if I could have done more. He could so easily have been a member of my family or anyone else’s family. He belonged to someone...somewhere.
During the Great Depression ... a lone man came down the holler (hollow to you non Appalachians) to my grandparents house. He walked along the creek through the pasture and crossed the bridge between the hen house and the smoke house , then knocked on the kitchen door. My grandparents opened the door, invited him in and asked if he was hungry. They fed him from the family’s food that day and seated him at the kitchen table. He had only one other request. He’d noticed that the family had a barn and a hayloft. He had been sick for several days as he rode the freight train and he was tired. Could he sleep in the hay loft that night? It would be warm and safe and spring nights in the mountains can be cold. The grandparents agreed that this would be no problem and did he need a blanket or two. He stayed several days and nights but ... just never seemed to get any better. Finally, one fateful morning when Grampa went to carry him food, he found that the stranger had died during the night. The family elders gathered together and decided that they would treat him as a member of the family and if this being so…if ever a family member was lost and broke and far from home…maybe someone else would take them in. The old ones went to the top of the mountain to the family cemetery and dug his grave. They gathered everyone together to speak Words over the stranger and laid him in the ground near the great-grandparents. As a child, I often asked Granny who this stranger was. Her only reply was that they had never asked his name…they only knew that he needed help and they were willing to help. Every Decoration Day of my childhood Granny made sure that flowers were put on the stranger’s grave just like on the graves of the rest of the family.
The wealth of our family has always been in one another…not in dollars and coins. Granny was a giant at 4 feet 11 inches and her teachings have come down through the generations. Probably the most important lesson she taught us was to be civil with one another, to never deliberately try to inflict hurt (physical or emotional) on each other or on any other human being. That lady had no tolerance for bigotry (and she had very good reasons) or for intolerance. We didn’t have to agree with one another but we did have to think, to reason, to be civil with one another because after all, “God Doesn’t like UGLY!”
Arguments are not won by distorting the truth or by lying. You don’t spread rumor or innuendo and you don’t threaten bodily harm on one another. Another statement Granny used to say was “You are your brother’s keeper!” I never realized how unique her perceptions were and as a child I probably never valued her teachings as much as I do now. I am tired of these people who will not reach out a hand to help others, who think they are too good to help the homeless, or people without health insurance, or the poverty stricken mother with small children, or even the immigrant family who came to this country seeking a better life. Seems like I want to remind these folk that unless you are a person descended from the Native American standing on the shore watching the ships arrive…we are all immigrants illegal or legal! Did anyone’s ancestors ask the Native American for permission to settle here? I thought not!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)