I can remember watching television with my parents as a kid. On the nightly news I saw black men, women and children in the south being beaten by policemen, attacked by dogs and knocked down by firemen using fire hoses turned on at full force. I was both horrified and confused. I was brought up to believe that policemen and firemen were supposed to help people and yet before my eyes these public servants were attacking peaceful people and arresting them. Their only crime seemed to be that they wanted the right to vote. But didn’t everyone have the right to vote in America? They wanted the same rights as white Americans and yet for some reason they were not equal, they were not entitled. I watched news stories barring them from schools and universities and being refused service at southern restaurants. Rosa Parks was even arrested for not sitting in the back of the bus with other blacks.
How could this be? It did not seem right and yet one of my earliest memories as a child taught me that blacks were different. On my first train trip with my grandmother in the mid 1950’s I encountered the Jim Crow laws. Blacks were confined to “Jim Crow” train cars and we had to pass through their space to sit in the white car ahead of us. I still remember the look of bemusement on the faces of those tired, old black men and the look of embarrassment on my grandmother’s face as I asked to sit in their car.
I grew up with racial jokes and black stereotypes passed down from friends and family, television and old movies, but things were changing. Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and other black leaders would not be denied. They marched, were arrested and beaten and even killed for their belief in freedom and equality in a country that demanded their service, yet refused to serve them. I saw the rise of the Black Power Movement with its clenched black fist and black exploitation films. I witnessed forced busing and quotas as a way to “even the score” for years of discrimination and segregation. While it created racial resentment, tension, fear and mistrust…by some measures…it worked. Over time, as a society, we came to accept black equality in our schools, our place of work and in our government.
In our rush to “even the score” and make things right, some mistakes were made. Our government created a welfare system that paid not traditional families, but unwed women and girls for children born into poverty. Fathers in a family meant no welfare. The view was that if a father was present then he should provide for his children. Generations of father-less children grew-up on the streets in poverty and crime. It was considered too costly for welfare to include higher education, technical training and jobs. Black families suffered the most from this short-sighted policy and program. Our prisons swelled as young black men saw no reason for education or even marriage. The real way to fame and fortune was dealing drugs or if you had talent…sports. Bling was king for too many black men who saw no other way out of poverty and discrimination. It was a way to gain respect.
In my lifetime, I have witnessed a new day dawn. With the inauguration of Barack Obama as our 44th President of the United States of America, black men and women were given a new vision and a new hope. America took a giant step forward in so many ways. In Barack Obama’s own words: “We are not a black America and a white America. We are not a red America and a blue America. We are the United States of America.” From this day forward, the color of our skin, our religion, our gender or our sexual orientation should no longer limit nor assure our potential for achievement.
God Bless America!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Redemption
There is something about the start of a new year that sets the mind thinking about the past. I’ve had a bunch of flash backs lately. I saw myself as a small child living with my mom over the bakery of Purcell’s Restaurant. I can still smell the cinnamon buns baking below. It was one of my earliest memories. I remember how excited everyone was over television. On Sundays my mom and I were invited over to our friends where I got to watch the Mickey Mouse Club, Spin and Marty and the latest adventures of Davy Crockett. My mom and her friends could not wait for the Perry Como show. Television was a wondrous invention. I only have a hazy memory of my father’s visit to my mother during that time. They were divorced when I was a toddler.
When I started first grade, my mom met and married a man who legally adopted me and changed my name to his. We moved to a farm where he had this grand idea of raising chickens. From the age of 7 to 15 years old I grew up in the country. I was surrounded by a new brother and sister, cousins and relatives. I learned the value of hard work and saving my money. I learned the importance of family. Life was slow and changed little from year to year. So much of who I am took shape in those years.
My dad moved our family to the suburbs of Chicago as I stated high school. What a change in my life! Learning to drive and discovering girls… feeling my oats. I met the Chandlers at my church youth group and began for the first time to think about spiritual matters and philosophy. I experimented. It was the time of Woodstock, Vietnam and the civil rights movement. I remember my friends Ross and JR and our wild adventures. On senior ditch day at the end of high school, we all took off to Wisconsin to fish. I bought the beer. I was 18. We went our separate ways after our big canoe trip in Canada the summer we graduated. We were the Canada 4! We were explorers of uncharted lakes, black bear attacks and storms that threatened to swamp our canoes.
College brought girls, motorcycles, a ‘67 VW Beatle and…life and death decisions. The war in Vietnam raged on and I witnessed students getting their heads beat in by the police as they protested the war. I watched. I stayed out of trouble, but I watched as my country was falling apart. A time was coming to decide my future. The easy days of careless summers were coming to an end and I still had no clue who I was. I listened to my dad and others for direction in my life. I was too big a coward to strike out on my own and find my own way. I could have been an archeologist, or a painter or a writer. I could have become a number of things, but I became what all my friends became. I became what was expected of me because it was safe.
I married my college girlfriend and took an office job at a scientific company north of Chicago. Soon we bought a house in the suburbs and were parents of two daughters. Life was good but something was eating at me. I compromised and I put some things on the shelf. I left one job for another. I finally took a year off to syndicate a cartoon strip and to try my hand at writing. I bought tools and began woodworking. There was a creative urge that kept gnawing at me. I tried my hand at gardening and being a father to my kids, but it was not enough. The gap between what I was and what I could be was growing. Decisions were being made and I still did not have a clue.
My divorce was a wake-up call. So much of what I once took for granted was taken from me and I remember sitting in my small apartment surrounded by boxes and wondering what the hell was happening to me. As I began to rise from the ashes, I met others in my position and I joined an organization of divorced men and women. We supported each other and for the first time in a long time I began to learn and grow. I became an elder in the Lutheran Church. I took on a 2 year Bible study and met a woman who made me realize that there was a difference between being religious and spiritual. In the end, we chose a friendship over other paths and she moved on. I stayed.
I felt that 3 years was enough time to heal what was broken and I remarried. I was wrong. I met my second wife in a divorce support group chapter that I had started at a local church. Old expectations came back to haunt me. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. My daughters suffered as my new wife and I tried to sort things out. I could not let another marriage fail…not again. I lost my job, her mother came to live with us while she underwent treatment for terminal cancer and my wife wanted to have children. She was older and the possibility of problems with child bearing loomed. Even after our divorce, we tried to repair the irreparable. Our parting left me disillusioned. I swore that I would never marry again.
For the next 10 years, I threw myself into my corporate job, lived in a small apartment and saved my money. My youngest daughter, Erin, insisted that I have a pet cat. She could not bear the thought of dad being all alone. One day we went pet shopping at the local animal shelters and that’s how my cat, Spike, came to live with me. I bonded with the one pink-eared, big pawed, anti-social tabby. Another relationship with a woman came and went over the next 4 years, but I remained steadfast in my resolve on marriage. I became a long time volunteer at a nature sanctuary and historic farm near where I lived. I began giving tours and working with school groups. I learned old fashioned carpentry techniques as I helped build several structures for the farm site. It was during this time that I met Lisa. She was a fellow volunteer. We often just missed getting together. She would be coming and I would be going, but one fateful day brought us together. I was finally ready for the next chapter and so was she.
All that I was or ever hoped to be has come to pass since our marriage. I’m 57 years old and for the first time I feel…redemption. I feel redeemed. What was once lost is now found in who we are together, not just lovers…but life partners. I have been so many different people in my life. Each one looking for who I am today. Lisa has realized her potential as an artist and as for me, I wrote a book about the place where I now work, The Alamo in San Antonio, Texas. We have a wonderful home and three cats. I’m a grandpa and life is good. I am growing in my spiritual understanding. Sometimes it takes a while to find ourselves as our paths are full of twists and turns.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
When I started first grade, my mom met and married a man who legally adopted me and changed my name to his. We moved to a farm where he had this grand idea of raising chickens. From the age of 7 to 15 years old I grew up in the country. I was surrounded by a new brother and sister, cousins and relatives. I learned the value of hard work and saving my money. I learned the importance of family. Life was slow and changed little from year to year. So much of who I am took shape in those years.
My dad moved our family to the suburbs of Chicago as I stated high school. What a change in my life! Learning to drive and discovering girls… feeling my oats. I met the Chandlers at my church youth group and began for the first time to think about spiritual matters and philosophy. I experimented. It was the time of Woodstock, Vietnam and the civil rights movement. I remember my friends Ross and JR and our wild adventures. On senior ditch day at the end of high school, we all took off to Wisconsin to fish. I bought the beer. I was 18. We went our separate ways after our big canoe trip in Canada the summer we graduated. We were the Canada 4! We were explorers of uncharted lakes, black bear attacks and storms that threatened to swamp our canoes.
College brought girls, motorcycles, a ‘67 VW Beatle and…life and death decisions. The war in Vietnam raged on and I witnessed students getting their heads beat in by the police as they protested the war. I watched. I stayed out of trouble, but I watched as my country was falling apart. A time was coming to decide my future. The easy days of careless summers were coming to an end and I still had no clue who I was. I listened to my dad and others for direction in my life. I was too big a coward to strike out on my own and find my own way. I could have been an archeologist, or a painter or a writer. I could have become a number of things, but I became what all my friends became. I became what was expected of me because it was safe.
I married my college girlfriend and took an office job at a scientific company north of Chicago. Soon we bought a house in the suburbs and were parents of two daughters. Life was good but something was eating at me. I compromised and I put some things on the shelf. I left one job for another. I finally took a year off to syndicate a cartoon strip and to try my hand at writing. I bought tools and began woodworking. There was a creative urge that kept gnawing at me. I tried my hand at gardening and being a father to my kids, but it was not enough. The gap between what I was and what I could be was growing. Decisions were being made and I still did not have a clue.
My divorce was a wake-up call. So much of what I once took for granted was taken from me and I remember sitting in my small apartment surrounded by boxes and wondering what the hell was happening to me. As I began to rise from the ashes, I met others in my position and I joined an organization of divorced men and women. We supported each other and for the first time in a long time I began to learn and grow. I became an elder in the Lutheran Church. I took on a 2 year Bible study and met a woman who made me realize that there was a difference between being religious and spiritual. In the end, we chose a friendship over other paths and she moved on. I stayed.
I felt that 3 years was enough time to heal what was broken and I remarried. I was wrong. I met my second wife in a divorce support group chapter that I had started at a local church. Old expectations came back to haunt me. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. My daughters suffered as my new wife and I tried to sort things out. I could not let another marriage fail…not again. I lost my job, her mother came to live with us while she underwent treatment for terminal cancer and my wife wanted to have children. She was older and the possibility of problems with child bearing loomed. Even after our divorce, we tried to repair the irreparable. Our parting left me disillusioned. I swore that I would never marry again.
For the next 10 years, I threw myself into my corporate job, lived in a small apartment and saved my money. My youngest daughter, Erin, insisted that I have a pet cat. She could not bear the thought of dad being all alone. One day we went pet shopping at the local animal shelters and that’s how my cat, Spike, came to live with me. I bonded with the one pink-eared, big pawed, anti-social tabby. Another relationship with a woman came and went over the next 4 years, but I remained steadfast in my resolve on marriage. I became a long time volunteer at a nature sanctuary and historic farm near where I lived. I began giving tours and working with school groups. I learned old fashioned carpentry techniques as I helped build several structures for the farm site. It was during this time that I met Lisa. She was a fellow volunteer. We often just missed getting together. She would be coming and I would be going, but one fateful day brought us together. I was finally ready for the next chapter and so was she.
All that I was or ever hoped to be has come to pass since our marriage. I’m 57 years old and for the first time I feel…redemption. I feel redeemed. What was once lost is now found in who we are together, not just lovers…but life partners. I have been so many different people in my life. Each one looking for who I am today. Lisa has realized her potential as an artist and as for me, I wrote a book about the place where I now work, The Alamo in San Antonio, Texas. We have a wonderful home and three cats. I’m a grandpa and life is good. I am growing in my spiritual understanding. Sometimes it takes a while to find ourselves as our paths are full of twists and turns.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Dominoes
The year 2008 is over. It was a history-making year in so many ways. Our country elected the first black man president in a presidential race that also saw a woman running for president and another woman chosen for a vice-presidential running mate. It became a race between experience and change, status quo and new ideas. Change won, but it will face a country and a world on the brink of economic disaster. President Obama will need more than a few aces up his sleeve as he takes office. He will need… miracles.
It was a year that saw banks fail and the economy take a nosedive. It was a year that saw record mortgage defaults. Homes fell into foreclosure as the housing bubble burst. Greed put unqualified homeowners in houses they could not afford with adjustable rate mortgages that were then “bundled” and sold off to the next investor. We saw our government scramble to bailout large investment firms and insurance giants as toxic mortgages and something called “derivatives” came home to roost. It was one of many dominoes that began to fall.
It was a year that saw large, familiar retail chains head for bankruptcy and store closings, if not go out of business altogether. It was one of the worst Christmas seasons on record for retailers. It was a year that saw Ford, Chrysler and General Motors heading for massive layoffs and ruin as Americans stopped buying cars, trucks and SUV’s. Even with massive federal bailouts, banks stopped lending money. Americans across this country have gone into survival mode, afraid of losing their jobs in a shrinking economy and losing their homes in the housing meltdown. They watched their retirement 401K’s losing value with the rise and fall of the stock market.
One bright spot is the huge drop in the price of oil leading to a dramatic lowering of the price of gasoline. This summer saw the price of a gallon of gas rise to over $4. Many people were struggling to pay for gas just to get to work, but ironically, now that prices have fallen, many people no longer have jobs. Unfortunately, those who work and invest in the oil industry are now feeling the pain from consumers cutting back and driving less. Quickly, the days of obscenely high oil profits have gone away.
It is hard to be confident when we live in fear. When there is little confidence, the economy reacts and that just creates MORE fear and less confidence… and so goes the recession. It is amazing how one thing leads to another and then another… We fail to see just how interconnected we all are. Each segment of our society relies on the next to keep our economy moving. When one segment fails…like dominoes…we all fail.
At some point, we must overcome this FEAR that has gripped our nation and the world. We must begin the process of picking up the pieces and moving on. Here’s to 2009 being a better year, a year of salvation!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
It was a year that saw banks fail and the economy take a nosedive. It was a year that saw record mortgage defaults. Homes fell into foreclosure as the housing bubble burst. Greed put unqualified homeowners in houses they could not afford with adjustable rate mortgages that were then “bundled” and sold off to the next investor. We saw our government scramble to bailout large investment firms and insurance giants as toxic mortgages and something called “derivatives” came home to roost. It was one of many dominoes that began to fall.
It was a year that saw large, familiar retail chains head for bankruptcy and store closings, if not go out of business altogether. It was one of the worst Christmas seasons on record for retailers. It was a year that saw Ford, Chrysler and General Motors heading for massive layoffs and ruin as Americans stopped buying cars, trucks and SUV’s. Even with massive federal bailouts, banks stopped lending money. Americans across this country have gone into survival mode, afraid of losing their jobs in a shrinking economy and losing their homes in the housing meltdown. They watched their retirement 401K’s losing value with the rise and fall of the stock market.
One bright spot is the huge drop in the price of oil leading to a dramatic lowering of the price of gasoline. This summer saw the price of a gallon of gas rise to over $4. Many people were struggling to pay for gas just to get to work, but ironically, now that prices have fallen, many people no longer have jobs. Unfortunately, those who work and invest in the oil industry are now feeling the pain from consumers cutting back and driving less. Quickly, the days of obscenely high oil profits have gone away.
It is hard to be confident when we live in fear. When there is little confidence, the economy reacts and that just creates MORE fear and less confidence… and so goes the recession. It is amazing how one thing leads to another and then another… We fail to see just how interconnected we all are. Each segment of our society relies on the next to keep our economy moving. When one segment fails…like dominoes…we all fail.
At some point, we must overcome this FEAR that has gripped our nation and the world. We must begin the process of picking up the pieces and moving on. Here’s to 2009 being a better year, a year of salvation!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
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