An invitation I’d love and trying to sort things out

 

Image courtesy Freekpik.com

 I keep seeing Facebook posts urging me to apply to have ice cream at Rehoboth Beach with Uncle Joe and Jill—now there’s an invitation I’d love to get. IF I hadn’t vowed I’m not going to fly any more, and IF I were sure I would be absolutely tongue-tied if I ever really met them. I have a fondness for beaches, and they sound like such nice, genuine people—they love dogs, don’t they? The invitation to the Chicago convention doesn’t intrigue me—I remember too clearly, as a Chicago native, the Democratic convention of 1968, and it sounds like crowds and possible violence and noise—and everything I don’t want now. But a barefoot walk in the sand with Uncle Joe? So enticing. (Never mind that my walker would not do well on a beach!)

The continuing coverage of the student protests and law enforcement response overshadows what should be the center of the story—ongoing negotiations between Zionists and Hamas. Efforts in this country, especially the GOP bill that seems to outlaw anti-semitism and curb free speech and serve as a redundant repetition of laws already on the books, only serve to make matters more cloudy. If nothing else, I have been trying to figure it out in my own mind. Here’s what I’ve thought, sort of: Israel has every right to their territory (I’m not sure about the Palestinian land which they keep absorbing). The US recognizes Israel and that’s right because it is an established legitimate government. We do not recognize Palestine because Hamas, a terrorist organization, is in charge. We support Israel in its attempts to recover hostages (many of whom have died in captivity) and to eradicate Hamas—but we should not support the genocide of an entire people, and despite denials that seems to be Netanyahu’s final goal. It’s a fine line that President Biden and Secretary Blinken are trying hard to walk.

Look at the statistics: 1200 Israelis died or were taken hostage on October 7 (estimate down from 1400). Many died horrific, excruciating deaths, and there is no denying the brutality of Hamas, the absolute disregard for human life. But balance that against 35,000 Palestinians who have died since, including 13,000 children. We have no idea how many Hamas are included in that number, but the victims were inevitably mostly innocent civilians—especially the children. I know war and death have no balance sheets—you can’t claim, “You killed this many of my people, so I will kill twice that many of yours.” But still it seems out of proportion to me—overkill, if you’ll allow a bad pun about an awful situation.

One thing no one talks about is that if you look at a map of the Arab world, Israel is but a tiny dot in a vast sea of Arab countries. I would think that would make them more inclined toward negotiation than force, knowing that the entire Arab world could rise up against them. I think the US is an enormous stabilizing force in that regard, but Netanyahu does not seem inclined to listen to US advice that doesn’t go his way.

So the student protests? How do they fit in? The first thing that comes to my mind is that our country is quick to forget lessons learned. Someone pointed out to me that today’s leaders were mere children in the sixties, and the Vietnam protests didn’t register with them. Greg Abbott, for instance, was twelve years old when troops shot Kent State students. But he could read history, couldn’t he? Today’s situation is proof of that old saying, “Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat its mistakes.” I am terrified that we are headed toward another Kent State type of tragedy. I know there is a lot of bitter anger on both sides, but I have also read that Palestinian and Israeli student groups have been meeting together on some campuses. And I know a few university administrations have reached out to students, invited them to talk. So much more reasonable than calling out troops in riot gear. The riot troops signify, to me, the conversative mindset: force, not reason.

A gentleman has posted elsewhere on my wall giving a reasoned history of Israel and why it must defend itself—cold hard facts, historical dates, reason. But what is missing is compassion. He keeps asking me in negotiation what I would suggest Israel give up to Hamas. I have no idea. I am not a schooled diplomat. But I know this—for Hamas/Israel negotiations, for the student protests, for most of the crises life faces us with: sitting down together at a table and talking is the solution. Not knee-jerk violence and punishment. We want to prevent more violence, not encourage it.

There are a lot of memes online about love and faith and one universal god—you and I dismiss most of them as trite and hackneyed and rightly so. But there is one thought I think worth repeating: we are all one people. We are all walking each other home—Jew, Arab, Christian, whoever. Humanity is or should be a lot bigger than religious or cultural lines.

When my children's half-sister was in high school, she signed up to work at a camp in Colorado that brought together Jewish and Palestinian women for conversation. One of her distant relatives said to her, "You can't do that! You're Jewish!" (She was half Jewish and not observant.) I thought that was such a negative incident that I've carried it in my heart for years.

Now about that ice cream … the thought takes me back to the Indiana Dunes of my childhood. Maybe Uncle Joe and Jill will join me there, in my I imagination. And we will have kind, caring conversations, with our dogs at our feet. Maybe I’ll blog about the Dunes soon.

Jumbled thoughts after the Fourth

 

My vicious guard dog

The Fourth of July is America’s most patriotic holiday. We are, most of us, pumped with enthusiasm for God, country, and whatever. This year in many ways it was particularly sweet, since many of us survived the pandemic and the reign of trump. Disease numbers are down, trump loses followers daily, the job numbers are up, and Biden has shown himself to be a real leader and gentleman in his reaction to the Florida condo collapse and a myriad of other problems.

So it was a bit of a shock to wake today to news reports that said there were 400 shootings across the country over the weekend, with 150 deaths. In Fort Worth, we had fourteen shootings with one death—a pretty high record for us. And too many drownings. I have a Facebook friend who lives outside Chicago and constantly bemoans the violence in that city. So do I, because it’s my hometown. But I was a bit pleased tonight to tell him that out of 50 most dangerous cities in the US Chicago is #31. Detroit is #1, no surprise, but I was surprised that Springfield, Missouri is #3. Several Texas cities were ranked, but not Fort Worth.

I read an article today about the rather dramatic uptick in violence in this country, particularly gun violence. It seems that Federal agencies predicted this, even at the beginning of pandemic. Many people have built up such tension--over fear of the virus, social isolation, the encouragement of right-wing violence, all the strains we've been living under--that this outburst was expected. But one sane voice predicted that Americans are resilient, and we will bounce back to a more regular existence. Not sure that includes mass shootings, nor do I think it means we don't have to work for stricter gun control laws, such as the ban on assault rifles and laws that keep guns out of the hands of the mentally unbalanced and the untrained.

People are still complaining today about the noise of fireworks. I am not as bothered as some, but I have had dogs who were terrified, so I recognize that problem, and I can only imagine how traumatic it is for veterans with PTSD. I will say that Sophie was absolutely unfazed and slept through all those that we could hear. I read of a town in Italy that decreed all fireworks would be silent—you get the beautiful visuals without the noise. I didn’t even know they could do that, but I like the idea. The last time I went to a fireworks show, we sat too close for my comfort, and every time one exploded directly overhead, I felt like my heart stopped. At my age, that’s an uncomfortable feeling. You never know when it could be true.

In reflecting on last night, I was amused to realize I have forgotten how good a traditional Fourth dinner can taste. Hot dog with sauerkraut (okay, I know the kraut is not traditional), baked beans (the only can I had was Heinz vegetarian but they tasted just fine), and potato salad. I had beans and potato salad for lunch today. Still good.

Too much of my own company this long weekend, though Sophie has been a good companion. She, that little 30-lb. dog, stood a yard worker off today, barking and feinting a charge or two. He clung to the gate with it half open, ready to make an escape any minute. When I called out for him to please shut the gate, he made no move. Either he was terrified, or he has no English—or both. At any rate, Sophie was very pleased with herself, and I am glad to have her for protection.

I’ll be grateful to get back to sort of routine tomorrow, with a couple of social things planned. Meantime, I am enjoying the slightly cooler weather. Sitting with the patio doors open tonight.

Sweet dreams, everyone.

Things are out of whack

There are no words. The world seems to be collapsing around us. Thursday we awoke to one of the most terrifying hail storms I’ve experienced in 50 years in Texas. Today we woke to the news of the attacks in Brussels, a lovely city in a peaceful country. For those of us in North Texas, the news got even worse: the wife of the Van Cliburn-winning pianist probably suffocated her daughters and stabbed herself; a man went into a WalMart in East Texas, shot another man and then shot himself. When does the violence end? How do we cope with it?

Brussels is rightfully the tragedy most on our minds. Can you imagine sending someone you love off to work—or travel—only to learn that they’ve been killed in a suicide bomb explosion? On an ordinary day when you expected the world to go on as it always has? The mind boggles. On 9-11, Belgians held hands in support of America; today we pray in support of them. I am proud of America’s reaction but scared by the response of the two leading Republican candidates. Neither learned from the Bush’s trumped up (no, not a pun) war in Iraq. They would willingly lead us into such another futile war, sacrificing thousands of people in Middle Eastern countries as well as our own troops. It didn’t work before, and it won’t work again. I am afraid of the war-mongering mentality more than I am afraid of ISIS..

For Christians, this is Holy Week, the most sacred time of the year. I write as a Christian who feels this holy time has been defiled. But I am also convinced that we must keep the faith and believe. No, it won’t bring back the people who died today, nor will it heal the injured. But faith—whatever your chosen religion—seems to me the answer. I pray for the Muslims in this country who now live in fear. If my understanding is correct, the Muslim faith calls for peace, not violence It doesn’t sanction beheading stoning, etc. Yet people preying on the fear of Americans have made terrorists of all Muslims in this country. Do you know how many there are? Fifty thousand in Houston alone; an astounding number in the entire world. As one Facebook post said tonight, if they were all terrorists, we’d all be dead. We must stand by our Muslim neighbors and friends and also our friends of color who are under attack if not suspicion now.

Pray for our friends and neighbors, pray for the world, pray for this country. Things are really out of whack right now. And I for one am grieving.

Ferguson still on my mind

I've been a Facebook hack today. My tendency toward OCD leads me to get everything done way ahead of time that I can, so now I'm preparing for Thanksgiving with all my children and grandchildren--all 16 of us--but I've got everything done ahead of time I can. I can't focus on writing that novel I've put away temporarily, and I've got the chili book all ready except for three images--and they're promised either for tomorrow or Saturday. I even have shopping lists done for next week in preparation for the arrival of my kids for a second family gathering.
So what's a girl to do with that extra time, besides read--which I've done--and troll Facebook, where of course I've read more about Ferguson that I ever needed to. I recognize there's something fascinating about violence, even for those of us who abhor it, and I've watched the fires burning looting, running, shouting, on the news with a sort of fixed attitude I can't explain. It's immeasurably sad to see people burning their own people's homes, cars and businesses. It struck me today that in the 1920s at the Greenwood riot in Tulsa it was whites burning black homes; today it is blacks burning their own community. It speaks of a deep frustration that goes way beyond the killing of Michael Brown. He has become a symbol and a martyr for a cause--and not an unjustified one.
I have friends on both sides of this particular fence--those in law enforcement who praise the decision and talk of the police right to defend, of Michael Brown's offenses (being huge is one of them), of the fact that he had just robbed a store and beaten the owner. My liberal friends talk of racial injustice, an unarmed kid against a trained officer with a gun, a white against a black.
The truth is we'll never know the truth. It's kind of like JFK's assassination--all those pages and pages of documentation, and I don't think we'll ever know what really happened. But it points to a crying need in our country--a need for racial justice, for police officers who don't stereotype and don't shoot first, a need for minority communities thate responsibility for their actions--and their neighborhoods.
I've also read today several poignant pieces by black parents who write about their fear for their children, for sending them out into a biased world. With four children, I already know the fear of letting them go as teenagers--I cannot imagine adding in the racial factor.
America has lost its way on several fronts, and I pray God we are strong enough to put ourselves on the straight and narrow path again. But for now, I have no answers about Ferguson nor about how to fix America. But fixing it needs.