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| Yesterday, I went to the Birmingham Civil Rights Museum with Jeffrey, and a large number of other people. They have free admission on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. It was cold, REALLY cold in Birmingham, and I don't think any of us expected to have to queue the way we did, yet all of us stood in line, and waited patiently.
It was worth it, but I wasn't prepared for the emotions the museum engendered in me. I expected certain things, of course, but I was caught off guard by how I as a mother reacted to the choices parents had to make in the 1960's. I listened to a woman talk about being one of the kids hosed down in the park across the street, and another talk about joining the march to Montgomery, I think she said, after the marchers camped out behind her school. Those stories were interesting, but somewhat out of context for me.
I eavesdropped on another woman, standing in front of a display about integrating the high school, as she told her friend she was supposed to go to that school, that only good students got to go, and she was a straight A student, but she didn't want to go, and her parents didn't want her to go because they were afraid, "they'd get her."
They'd get her.
I saw the pictures of the girls killed as they went to church at the 16th Street Baptist Church on September 15, 1963, the "four little girls" as they are typically referred to, and realized three of them were the same age as my daughter is right now, and the fourth was the same age as my son.
Those parents didn't choose to put their children in harm's way; they were simply going to church. But I looked at the Church (also across from the museum) and realized those babies died, and created the opportunity for my babies to exist. But other parents did choose to put their children in harm's way, by fighting for their right to attend schools where they all knew they would be targeted, by encouraging, or allowing them to participate in marches that so often culminated in violent reprisals. These parents knew what they were doing, what they were asking of their children, what the danger was.
Would I choose the same, or would I choose like the parents of the woman I overheard? At that moment, all I could think was how glad I was that I didn't have to choose.
Later on as we sat in a wonderfully integrated barbecue joint, the televisions were almost all tuned to news channels, showing the crowds milling about DC on the eve of the most historic inauguration possibly ever. But I was distracted by a headline on the crawl that another group of Pakistani girls were attacked on their way to school.
And I realized, parents in Pakistan are making the same decisions parents in Birmingham faced 45 years ago.
The world is very small, and has too many people in it who hate.
I would stop there, on a poignant yet depressing thought, but there was something else that happened in the Civil Rights Museum. Jeffrey, who is researching a book on race and class, got overwhelmed at the sight of a Klan robe. He was unprepared for his reaction, and it's hard for him to even verbalize the reaction. I held him off to the side of the display hall as he quietly sobbed. A black man came up to him, placed his hand on his shoulder and said, "It's okay, man. We've come so far."
Yes we have. And we--the world--still have so far to go. But when two people who could have been enemies 45 years ago can stand together in Birmingham and console each other for the atrocities of the past with an eye to future, then I believe that we will get there.
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| I woke up a little out of sorts, worried about some things that are impacting my relationship. To be blunt, I'm in a poly relationship and my boyfriend's other relationship is marked by a lot of fighting, which affects me. I realized today that I feel very much like I felt growing up when my younger sister would cause problems and not get in trouble, but if I tried to defend myself, I'd end up getting in trouble, and (in the most specific example) if she got bad grades, my parents offered to pay her for good grades, when I asked for the same deal (I was a straight A student) I was told my good grades were expected of me. I "behave" and while I don't not get the things that matter to me, I don't exactly get "rewarded", whereas in this other relationship, she throws a fit and gets exactly what she wants. After some thought and a little discussion, I recognized what part of this is *my* problem, and what part of it I need his help with. I can't say that it's all fixed, but it's better. Now, if that had been the only thing, I think I would have been okay. Shortly after arriving at work, I checked my hotmail and saw there was an update on my friend's sister's "Caring Bridge" site. This is a blog site for people dealing with health crises. I've been making sure to check each update ... and today's was written by her husband ... Megan passed away yesterday. I'm crying again as I write this. This is probably the third or fourth time I've cried a little over this. I never met Megan, but sometimes, you just know when a person is a good person. It doesn't make sense, and all the religious platitudes in the world won't make it make sense to me. That's one reason I'm not religious. Why does "God's plan" hurt good people and leave bad people to enjoy their lives? No one can give me an answer to that that I find remotely sensible. I also suspect that heaven and hell are just a response to what I described above, that a person can do the right thing and watch a person do the wrong thing and get rewarded ... I suspect this is really how the system operates, but heaven and hell are supposed to make us feel better about being good. Megan is the second sibling of a friend to die in the last few months. Early in the fall, a friend I'd lost touch with's brother was killed in a very freak fall. He was a Garland police officer, and I just happened to see his obituary in the paper. I called another friend I'd also lost touch with, told her, and we showed up at the funeral home. The three of us plan to have a girl's night out as soon as our schedules allow. Sara's sister's illness prompted the JonCon girls to have our get-together last September. Still, these are not good enough reasons for people to die. Ok, I probably could have handled Megan's death and my relationship issues, but then at 1:30, we had a company meeting to announce that the property management division of our company had been sold on 12/23. The negotiations for this sale had begun in October, just as the leadership of the company was reassuring us that property management was our money maker, and we'd rely on it until the credit markets open back up and we can begin developing again. I feel deceived, betrayed and lied to. Yes, all three. After the meeting in October, I felt confidence in the leadership, I felt they were honest, transparent, and truly living up to the good aspects of Christians (the first company value is about duty to God, or something.) I *trusted* them, which was important to me because I left my last job after 3 years because I did not trust the CEO. Trust for business people does not come easily to me. Generally speaking, I think all business leaders are crooks, until proven otherwise. I thought I'd been proven otherwise. The third straw is what made me collapse. This was all too much in one day. Driving home, I noticed how pretty the ice was on the trees, and texted my boyfriend. He called me back, but I was in the bathtub, so he left a message complimenting me for seeing beauty even when I was having a bad day. I was still angry at that moment, and a little miffed that he was calling during my bath (I got out, trying to get to the phone in time), but ... something he said took hold. And I started trying to salvage the evening. I succeeded. The bath was good (not my best, but it worked), my veggie bagel sandwich was delicious, Scrubs is good for almost anything that ails you, and what Scrubs can't fix, the nonsense of Lewis Carroll can, and a wonderful 30 minute WiiFit yoga workout, AND a fire in the fireplace ... all make for a nice evening. I still mourn for Megan, I still feel betrayed by my company and I'm not sure what I'm going to do (at this point, I'm not even sure what THEY think my future is with them, nevermind what *I* think it is), relationship issues are *better*, but there is always room for improvement. None of these things went away. But I took care of me, and I've found some of my strength again. I still have some trust issues, and obviously a lot of anger. I'm going to continue to be good to myself, and work on these problems. I suppose that's another New Year's Resolution... | | |
| My friend who is battling cancer struggles on. I don't think I could be as strong as she is, and I know I would have taken a different route, but I admire her courage and spirit. Today, I am especially grateful for the journal entries posted by her mother and father this week, expressing their perspectives on Megan's battle. This family amazes me with their love, strength and courage. And I am amazed that I have Todd Haynes to thank for my being allowed into this family's struggle, and being inspired by them. Todd Haynes? you might ask. Yes, the director who is credited with being one of the innovators of the Queer Cinema movement, whose early films tended to rely heavily on music he could never quite secure the rights to. Specifically, I refer to Velvet Goldmine, which took it's name from a somewhat obscure David Bowie song, and is rather loosely inspired by the 1970's incarnate of Bowie, Ziggy Stardust. The film works and fails on numerous levels, but the lack of Bowie's music probably hurt it more than anything else at the box office. This movie changed my life, and led me to, among other things, write this entry today about watching a family struggle with their 30 year old daughter's aggressive form of cancer. I first saw Velvet Goldmine sometime in 2001, I think it was, and loved it. I then watched it again in early 2004, and an obsession was born, in the person of Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Along with that obsession came an internet addiction, first to IMDb, then to a private message board created by a group of fangirls who got tired of censorship on IMDb. One of the people I met on IMDb and got to know on our board is Sara, sister of Megan. We eventually met in real life, along with six or seven other fangirls. For almost five years now, these girls have been my friends, some more intensely than others, some ebbing and flowing, and some betraying me more deeply than anyone has ever betrayed me. They were with me as my marriage ended, and were possibly contributing factors to the end of that relationship, as my obsession/addiction was truly a manifestation of a deep need to change my life. In a complicated way, that I won't go into here, a few of them played a huge role in my current relationship, a relationship that has been so very incredible. Over the past five years, I've worked on becoming the person I want to be, the truly authentic me. I'm not there yet, and I have a sneaking suspicion it's the journey, not the destination that is important. A very important part of the journey is sharing Sara's family's challenges right now, because it is making me take stock of what matters to me, and to think, really think, about what I would do in Megan's situation, in Sara's situation, and in their parents' situation. I hope I never have to find out what I would do, but just thinking about it makes me a better, stronger, more caring person. Life is fragile. I know this, I've always known this. But seeing someone battle to live gives me an even deeper appreciation of this. So, I am, as always, grateful to Todd Haynes for making what probably isn't THAT important of a movie, but a movie that was a risk, never-the-less. I am grateful to him for his strength in pursuing his art, even in the face of critics and those who would condemn. I am grateful for someone understanding that art affects people, in ways they cannot possibly anticipate. I am grateful to him for casting the beautiful Jonathan Rhys Meyers, and for putting the hottest same-sex kiss ever seen on the big screen. And I am grateful that I have been able to open myself up to the things that influence me in unexpected directions, that have helped me to become a better person. The best me I can be. It seems odd, even to me, that a film could have such an impact on me. But I am grateful for it. | | |
| I'm getting a little fed up with people Christians complaining about retailers not using the word "Christmas" in their sales flyers. Um, when did Christmas become about getting the best freakin' deals? I'm not Christian. I celebrate a hodge-podge of holiday stuff that mostly resembles the commercialized version of Christmas Charlie Brown started complaining about in 1965. I buy a lot of stuff, and give it to my family. I perpetuate the Commercial Holiday. But I don't do it in the name of Jesus. And it doesn't bother me what the retailers call it, because I don't go to WalMart for my religious teaching. Okay, I don't go to WalMart at all. But I don't go to ... Target to learn religion. I say Merry Christmas, though. Because it sounds good. And I sing Christmas carols, of every type: secular, religious, uber-gospel, winter (you know, like, "Baby, It's Cold Outside"), pop (like "Christmas Wrapping" by The Waitresses). You get my point. Like I said, a hodge-podge of the winter holiday. So, to my Christian friends who are offended by retailers not calling this time of year "Christmas", I'd like to kindly suggest you focus on what YOU are celebrating, and WHY, and if the retailers' stance bothers you, then don't buy into the Commercial Holiday, and instead focus on what Linus had to say. "'8And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. 10And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 11For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. 12And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 14Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.' That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."
As I said, I'm not a Christian, because I don't believe Jesus is my savior and died for my sins. But I think there is a lot to learn from the Bible, particularly how Jesus treated other people, and I think that "on earth peace, good will toward men" is a pretty good way to live. I do agree with what one person had to say on this topic, though, that retailers are very quick to pull down all the in-store "Holiday Sales!" signage by December 26th to replace it with "After-Holiday Sales!" even though many of the non-Christian holidays are still going on (and if you're Lutheran, your holiday is still going on.) But, I reiterate, RETAILERS are not the KEEPERS OF RELIGION or RELIGIOUS TRADITIONS. They are the front lines of capitalism and free market economy, and will latch onto whatever they can in order to sell stuff. They aren't trying to offend Christians; they are trying to include everyone. Please don't get confused about what drives retailers. It certainly isn't their religion, other than the worship at the altar of the mighty dollar. One more time, in case you just started reading, if you want Christmas, go to church, not the mall. Don't ask retailers to keep the sanctity of the holidays. None of the major religions I've taken survey classes in college on have a focus on overspending on gifts for relatives. All the streets are filled with laughter and light
And the music of the season
And the merchants windows are all bright
With the faces of the children
And the families hurrying to their homes
As the sky darkens and freezes
They'll be gathering around the hearths and tables
Giving thanks for all gods graces
And the birth of the rebel jesus
Well they call him by the prince of peace
And they call him by the savior
And they pray to him upon the seas
And in every bold endeavor
As they fill his churches with their pride and gold
And their faith in him increases
But they've turned the nature that I worshipped in
From a temple to a robbers' den
In the words of the rebel jesus
We guard our world with locks and guns
And we guard our fine possessions
And once a year when christmas comes
We give to our relations
And perhaps we give a little to the poor
If the generosity should seize us
But if any one of us should interfere
In the business of why they are poor
They get the same as the rebel jesus
But please forgive me if I seem
To take the tone of judgement
For I've no wish to come between
This day and your enjoyment
In this life of hardship and of earthly toil
We have need for anything that frees us
So I bid you pleasure
And I bid you cheer
From a heathen and a pagan
On the side of the rebel jesus. The Rebel Jesus, by Jackson Browne
Happy Holidays! (And Merry Christmas!) | | |
| My day started off good, I was full of energy and excitement, having decided to use my "leave 2 hours early" pass that I'd won by having so much trivia in my brain. Combined with a late lunch, that meant I'd leave around 2:30, pick up the kids (since they'd gotten out of school early) do some shopping, etc, etc, etc. All good. Then, I get a phone call. My friend Sara, who lives in Chicago, called at about 10:30, and asked me if I have plans for the evening. Long story short ... Sara's sister's was losing her battle with cancer. They were flying her home from Houston to Kansas, and Sara was planning to drive her car to Kansas, and wanted to stop by. Of course, anything she needed, I would do for her. I wanted, want, to do more than offer a bed. A few minutes later, she texted to say the private plane company was arranging a driver for the car, so Sara would be flying with her sister. Her call was hard news. I don't know Sara's sister, but I'd been pulling for her in her fight. Sara's family seems so great, almost too good to believe. I'm so sad for the family, especially dealing with this during Christmas. I'm just glad Sara has been able to spend so much time with her sister. I still wish I could do more. So, moving on through my day, we get word that the division VP might be calling a meeting at 1:30. This is probably not going to be good news ... we're in danger of having some of our properties taken by the investor and/or lender. Some people call this "foreclosure". It's slightly different, but about the same. It's not unexpected, and the company is prepared to deal with it. But the properties in jeopardy right now are three that I do the accounting for, and I *really* like the properties and the people I deal with. I don't want to lose them. At some point, my back starts to tighten. Before I know it, my upper back and neck are in spasm. Six days before Christmas. When I'm busier than all get-out. I don't need this right now. I email a good friend to whine about my day; he's generally very supportive. Except ... when he's in danger of being fired for attendance problems.  I can see both sides, but ultimately, he's a great worker, intelligent, quick to learn, quick to take on challenges. So ... he's a wreck. And my back only gets worse. [He texted me tonight to say they are giving him one more chance, but basically if he comes in late or misses a day, for any reason, he'll be fired.] The meeting never happened, by the way, it's probably going to happen on Monday. My manager says there is nothing to worry about, but she doesn't see the loss of my properties as dire as I do.  The rest of the day has gone fine, got the kids, did a TINY bit of shopping, had a lovely dinner out, took a nap, made made my "Holiday Baking List" and grocery list, heading out soon to do the shopping. And I'm going to do a "gift inventory" in a little bit, make the last big shopping list, and hopefully will finish gift shopping by Sunday. But I'm still very sad for Sara and her family. | | |
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