Category Archives: children

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 23: Calming the Conniptions

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

June 23, 2020-

Taking part in a lively debate, in the Age of Hypersensitivity, is no small thing. Most of those who operate from a place of political correctness have at least recognized that I operate from a humble posture of learning, and if I can be proven wrong, by facts rather than well-presented emotion-based opinions, I will actually be grateful.

Any man who voices opposition to abortion is going to get pushback, unless that opposition acknowledges that the mother of the fetus and has the final say. Making that acknowledgement, and prefacing my own qualms about the matter with the sacredness of being, from the moment of conception, has been, for all but the most fervent abortion advocate, enough room to set common ground.

The same may be said about the dispostion of controversial historical monuments. I have reservations about the wisdom of wholesale destruction of statuary. Certainly, those figures whose presence causes extreme anxiety for African-Americans , First Nations people or anyone else who has faced systemic persecution, need to be removed from public view-not because there is a need to comfort the overly sensitive, but because there is a deeper genetic memory than is commonly accepted.

I will discuss this last, in another post, insofar as it pertains to my own being. For now, note that the practices adopted by enslaved people, over the period of chattelhood and right up to the end of the Jim Crow Era, in order to ensure the safety of both their children and of themselves, have found continuity, in the seemingly draconian disciplinary practices of a good many African-American families. Keeping the child safe, by limiting his/her freedom to explore, is one feature of this. It goes back to keeping the child safe from exploitation.

Thus, the strength of an emotional trigger is far different for a person whose forebears faced oppression, than it is for one whose hardships have been more in line with the struggles inherent in earthly life, in its generality. Life is complicated like that, and we do best to grow a thick hide of patience, along with a strong spine of fortitude.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 22: Analogies and Other Tough Calls

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

June 22, 2020-;Dad transitioned, 34 years ago, today, All of us, except Brian, who was 22, and in hospital at the time, were on our own and looked to our father mainly for guidance with adult issues. This memory enveloped my day.

I took part in an online discussion, of sorts, in which the moderator tried to conflate the deaths of African-American adults and teens with what he sees as an excessive number of Black fetuses being aborted. It was too large and broad a conflation, for most people, and seemed to have upset many.

One person analogized the abortions, though, with a person picking up coins from the street, which he characterized as a minor theft. (I’ve happened upon both coins and bills on pavement, and have either given them to destitute folks or used them for charitable causes.) I see it as more than a bit sad, though, that intellectuals, mostly men past the optimum age of child-rearing, view the life of an unborn child as no more than small change. It’s as if anyone with whom one can’t have a deep discussion is not worth one’s consideration.

The same blind spots occur in many situations- almost always among people who have a very narrow view of who is and isn’t as human as they are. Isn’t this the whole reason we are going through what we are enduring now? I’ve always been viewed as strange, for being holistic in my view of humanity. Somehow, though, we will need to broaden our collective view on this matter, if we are to know peace as a species.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 19: Juneteenth

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Posted by on in children, Community, Family, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

June 19, 2020-

I relaxed, this evening, with a group of African-American entertainers and public figures, presenting a Facebook Live performance called Black Wave 2020. There were a wide variety of musical styles and civil presentations by competing office seekers. There was no vitriol, no cussing, and no displays of rage.

There was a very up front, definite commitment to acting towards justice, towards the systemic changes that need to be brought to bear. There was also the understanding that there will be resistance to such changes, and a few racists did show up in the comments section, to spew their nonsense. All in all, though, we who were watching were genuinely interested and appreciative of the show.

Change has to be made, and it has to be deliberate and transparent. We cannot have the history of THIS day and age presented to the people of the Twenty-second Century, in a sanitized form. That will take fortitude, and commitment. There are those who don’t understand the Oneness of the Human Race. I heard from one such individual today-with regard to the rights of unborn children, in his view, not mattering to anyone other than religious zealots. There are others who, don’t understand that People of Colour don’t want to be regarded with special treatment-just regarded with dignity and respect.

Growing up in a lily-white town, albeit in suburban Boston, I had to learn the reality of People of Colour, piecemeal: The African-Americans in my childhood and adolescence were authority figures: The cafeteria monitors in our Junior High and the first police officer to give me a speeding ticket. I’d have been punished, very swiftly, once I got home, if I ever gave them any lip. That told me that real African-Americans were not any different, to my parents, than anyone else.

Indeed, watching Saturday morning cartoons, one day, when I was about eight, a character who was supposed to be Stepin Fetchit came out with “Everything I do is always wrong.” That cut through me like a switchblade. I asked my father why anyone would say such a thing. He told me that Black folks were conditioned to act that way, having been enslaved for over 200 years. He also told me to show all people kindness and treat them fairly. I often thought that if I ever met the actor who played Stepin Fetchit, that I would shake his hand and tell him he was a wonderful person.

There were, though, some tough conversations, awkwardness and hard lessons, that came my way, in young adulthood particularly, in learning the nuances and basic decencies of overcoming some very deep-seated social beliefs. I am glad for all of them.

The Baha’i Faith lends spiritual weight to the notion that all people are created equal-All ethnicities, male & female, all age groups, both neurotypical and disabled, all points of view-so long as they don’t preach exclusion of others. We view all life as sacred,from conception to death. Independent investigation of truth is the bottom line.

Juneteenth, with all this being considered, merits being made a National Holiday- a paid National Holiday. Let it continue to spark thoughts, words and action, to advance the cause of justice- and the increased equality of all people.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 15: By Definition, Part 2-Does Behaviour Define Us?

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Education, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

June 15, 2020-

I referenced traits,yesterday, in considering how people sometimes define who they are, by their external qualities or, unfortunately, how OTHERS see them.

We have also reached the point where many are judged, defined, by something they did, or said, years or even decades ago. There will always be those who look under rocks, to find fault with others. There will always be those who jump out from behind a bush, and scream: “I remember when YOU did this to ME!”

I am not referring to heinous crimes, like rape, molestation, gross physical assault, calumny or theft. Those need to be brought to justice, and there should be no statutes of limitation. I am referring to personal slights that are stored away and used like traps-often by mentally ill people, for whom treatment is a far better option than revenge.

Essentially, what I want to say here is: For those personal slights, those shortcomings that were not heinous, I will apologize, and I claim the right to live the changes I have made in my life. Everyone else who is in similar straits deserves the same right.

These are what define me: Unconditional love; commitment to the health and safety of children, adolescents, women and the elderly; commitment to equality and dignity for all, regardless of physical traits, level of development; sexuality or philosophical stances; the prevalence of humaneness over profit-motive or doctrine.

Each can find redemption. Each can make the change.

Knowing Places

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Posted by on in children, Community, Family, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Striving

May 30, 2020–

Today was the traditional Memorial Day, observed each year, until President Nixon set up a “streamlined” observance, for the fourth Monday in May, each year-beginning with 1971’s commemoration.

It struck me, today, that each of us conducts our affairs, our personal business, our honouring of others and even our leisure activities, largely based on what we perceive as our place in the world. That place, in times past, was determined, not so much by oneself, but by whosoever was deemed “in charge” of us- as in the Victorian Era and Twentieth Century dictum: “Children shall be seen and not heard.” or, even more rudely put-“A woman’s place is in the kitchen.”

I’ve been told, at least once, during this pandemic, “STAY HOME!”. The person making that demand has no say in my life, whatsoever, so I take the demand with several grains of salt. As long as I maintain distance from those who I know are at risk of infection, and practice recommended hygiene and PHYSICAL distancing, it’s no one’s business how much time I spend between these four walls.

My place is this world has always been fluid, and remains so. There is also a truism: “Those who stand for nothing, will fall for anything.” I will keep on with a full regimen of activities, both within my Home Base, in the community and, as life inches forward, go with the utmost safety to certain places which have re-opened, provided there is not an air of recklessness in said locales.

Anymore, children should be taught to speak thoughtfully and a woman’s place, a swell as a man’s, is wherever s(he) deems fit.

Unsticking from the Hustle

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving

May 14, 2020-

One of the issues that some who are not seeing their business at death’s door, during the current pandemic, is that they miss their prior routine, so much.  They are going stir crazy, from being “stuck in the hustle”, working ten-twelve hours, daily, even from home.  The presence of their children, pets, even of their spouse, does not deter them.

Long ago, I was there, to the point that I would come back from my office, a forty-five minute drive from our house, spend five minutes getting a recap of my wife’s and son’s days, and get ready for bed.  The zombie act did not faze either of them- and to their credit, they spoke up.  Son was in seventh grade at the time and wasn’t buying the fatigue excuse-being quite outspoken, about being entitled to some of my time.  He was right, and my long-suffering wife, knowing just how hard it was to do a good job, by a less-than-appreciative boss, would have been within her rights to insist on much the same.

In the end, the fatigue induced by an impossible set of expectations, from a man who lived ten minutes away from the worksite, led to my resignation, in md-year.  That I was also framed by an underling, mattered little.  It was my choice to opt for leaving the cauldron and going into a less-stressful line of work, thus saving my place in the hearts of those who mattered most.

We are all left with the fact that, no matter how complex a situation is, the choice as to the direction of one’s life, belongs to that individual.  It may take longer for a person, whose presence is more crucial than mine was, to process the  pros and cons of one action, over another, but we are each given a Rubicon, or two, to cross in our lives.

Setting the Bar

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving

May 12, 2020-

My conversations with various people, last night and throughout today, have invariably featured goals they want to achieve, over the next several weeks and months.  One of my best friends here has set the goal of building a raised planter bed and showed me the frame she has made by herself- a very sturdy oblong planter, which should hold two or three crops, once filled.

This morning, around 11, I visited a small barbecue restaurant, on the second day of the re-opening of food establishments.  Tables are set six feet, or more, apart, with the goal being to not have to close up again, anytime soon.  Those who came in, while I was having lunch, were very respectful of the few requests the owners made.

My next order of business was to deliver a bottle of essential oil capsules to someone who is suffering a debilitating disease.  While at his wife’s establishment, she and a relative were discussing a goal relative to their own overall health- and devising a team plan to meet this objective.

I met my own goal of getting my hair cut, this afternoon.  The conversation, with the woman who was cutting my hair, centered on keeping children happy during the ongoing shutdown, which of course will continue into summer-a time that children normally are off, anyway.  In some circumstances, no one course of action can resolve an issue.  There will be some boredom and some grousing-but I have learned that, when I’ve been bored or listless, things come to me, as to what I might do and inventiveness is always a good skill to hone, in any mind.

I continue to set the bar high for myself, at least, and feel confident that this entire exercise in patience and perseverance will not be as wasteful as one individual, with whom I spoke early this morning , seems to believe.

In Whose Name?

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

April 28, 2020-

The current pandemic, like any previous crisis, has brought out the best and the worst of human nature.  There are those in this country who are convinced the ONLY reason that there is a big deal being made about COVID-19 is to keep their favoured candidate(s) for political office from winning.  Their opposites are saying pretty much the same thing about the handling of emergency funds. The bottom line: It’s about ME!

Yes, and no.  Every human being has to take stock of a situation, no matter how widespread or dire, with regard to his/her personal circumstances.  That’s fine, but then. the considerations must become more community-focused, then nation-focused, and, finally, globally-focused.  To their credit, there are people at all points along the political spectrum, and in all Faiths, who see the big picture.  Christians recognize that God is calling us all to the Altar.  Buddhists are having global chants via digital platforms. Muslims have, by and large, not insisted on in-house gatherings, during this season of Ramadan.  We Baha’is, likewise, are thriving with digital meetings, of various kinds, as well.  There are those, in both the conservative camp and the liberal camp, who resist the loud voices calling for “liberation” and defiance of any regulation, on the one hand, and for open-ended quarantine and forced digital identification, on the other.

The future course of action will be decided, in my humble opinion, by conditions that exist at the ground level.  I also feel, very strongly, that the length of the pandemic will be determined, to a huge extent, by how much of a community dedication there is to revamping the way we go about our community life.  Do we respect those who have no choice but to go to work?  Do we respect our children enough to find ways to honour their needs for exploration and activity-indeed, do we respect those needs in EVERYONE? Are we willing to stop the daily dogpiles on those who see things differently than we do, and just listen for once? Do we want to honour the health of our elders and those whose immune systems are compromised?

One of my advisers says that we are rapidly approaching a fork in the road, as to how our society, how all societies on Earth, will go forward.  There will be a choice between communal thinking, based on “the hurt of one is the hurt of all”, and a positive view of the future AND a greed-based, control-oriented mindset (seen on both right and left), with a cynical, negative view of this life.  I, for one, think the choice is quite clear.

The hurt of one IS the hurt of all.

In Leaving, Before Her Time

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Posted by on in children, Community, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

April 14, 2020-

I did not know her,

only seeing her winsome,

joyful countenance

in a photo.

There was actually a mixture 

of joy and sorrow in her eyes.

I saw joy, at being with her father.

Her sorrow may have come

from knowing that not all

have such a loving family.

Now, the world has one less

loving soul.

Now, the being who was once

a treasured daughter and sister

can only look lovingly

at those on this side of the veil

and guide those who are open

to her spirit.

The above is in remembrance of a young adult in our community, who left this world, suddenly, last week.

There are so many upon whom I look as if they were my own children.  Their numbers just keep growing, with the passage of each year. They come from solid, loving homes or from broken, struggling households. They come from families of faith or from those for whom God is a scapegoat, if He is recognized at all. Yet, the feeling I have is the same,and as with my biological child, their suffering is my sorrow and their joys are my treasure.

 

The Visitor

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Family, Fiction, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 25, 2020-

(This is a short story which came to me, this evening, as I was in a meditation group.)

Katrin was playing in her room, with Bradley Bear and Kimmy Koala. She had just sat her animals in the little chairs, and was preparing to play teacher, when she heard a bump in the family room next to hers.  She told the “children” to stay quiet, and went to check out what had happened.  Mommy was getting stressed, with new baby coming in three more months, and Kat did not want her mother to fall down and have an accident.

She saw the breeze rustling the curtain-an odd sight, given it was early April, and Mommy never opened the window much before the first of May.  Kat went towards the window and was startled to see a pair of shoes behind the curtain.  Although she was only four years old, Katrin Leigh Osterman was the epitome of boldness, as her grandmother put it.  She went slowly, but confidently, towards the curtain and pulled it back.

There, looking unusually fearful, was a big man.  He reminded Katrin of the main character in a show that she watched with Mommy, called “Reading Rainbow”.  She asked, “Mister, what are you doing, standing behind our curtain?  Are you okay?”  The man stared, still fearful, at the little girl.  Then, he spoke:  “I am very hungry.  I have not eaten as much as a crust of bread , in almost five days.  I have been hiding, since I got off a small plane.  I watched your family and saw they seem friendly-but I could not be certain.  So, I had to sneak into the house first.”

“What’s your name, Mister?”, Katrin whispered, feeling sad at his story.

“I am Adibe Junius.”, replied the man.  ” My family name comes first, then my given name, so please call me Junius.”

“I am glad to meet you, Junius. My name is Katrin”, said the girl, still whispering.  Kat knew that Mother would be a bit scared of this stranger in her house, but Junius seemed tired, weak and more than a bit scared, himself.  She asked him to sit in a chair and said she would get him something to drink.  Then, she went to the kitchen, where her mother was resting in a comfy chair.

“Mommy, I have something to show you, in the family room.”, Kat said, in her Big Girl voice.  She then stepped on a footstool and got a glass of water from the refrigerator spigot.  ” Pleas come with me.”

Brittany got up, in a world-weary manner, wondering what her bright and adventurous offspring was up to now, carrying a glass of water to the back of the house.  Was she going to “teach” the stuffed animals how to drink without spilling?

Junius looked up at the five-foot, five inch cinnamon-coloured woman, who gasped at seeing a nearly six-foot tall man, sitting in her rocking chair.  “KATRIN LEIGH !  What on Earth are you doing, letting a stranger into this house??”, the horrified woman scolded her daughter.

“Please, Madame”, the chastened man spoke up, “She did not let me in.  I came in, through the window, as I am desperate.”

“DESPERATE?  I’ll  show you desperate!  Since when do you just walk into someone’s home, without so much as a ‘By your leave? And who are you, anyway?”, Brittany snapped.

At this point, all of Junius’ hunger and thirst pangs left him, and he burst into tears.   “I knew this would be a mistake.  I left Congo in a flight of panic and have not eaten since I got off the plane, five days ago.  All the smugglers gave any of us was a bowl of rice, with peanut sauce.”

“Congo?  Smugglers? Peanut sauce?”, the flinty-eyed mother said, her eyes getting narrower by the second.  “If this story gets any weirder, I’m about set to call Santa Claus.”

“It’s true”, Junius said, collecting himself , just a bit.  “I fled the war back home, and a white man came up to me, in Kinshasa, and said he could get me to Cape Town, so long as I carried a crate of animals to a certain spot.  I delivered the animals to a wet market, in the Chinese neighbourhood, then I was chased out of there by a gang of teenaged boys.  They called me ‘dirtbag foreigner.’  Imagine that, I am an African, and they said I didn’t belong.  So, I wandered around, until I came to this neighbourhood.”

Brittany was drawn in by this story, and he certainly wasn’t dressed like anyone from around Cape Town.  “Give Mr. Junius the glass of water, Katrin”, she relented.
Junius sipped the water surprisingly carefully, and threw his head back, letting out a heavy sigh.  “Do you know where I might get a clean bed, Madame, and a plate of food?”

Tears started to well up in Brittany’s eyes.  “I can get you to our church.  The pastor will let you clean up, help you get some fresh attire and see that you are fed.  He can do this a lot easier than we can, and he will put you to dignified work.”

Ten minutes later, Brittany Osterman had spoken to Reverend Stenbeek, who readily agreed to take Junius in, provided he followed the church house rules.  Junius walked with the two ladies to the rector’s house, and was warmly greeted by the Dutch Reformed Church pastor and his wife.  “Junius, you stumbled upon the nicest people in this parish,”  Leonidas Stenbeek proclaimed, “and you couldn’t have been greeted by anyone kinder than our Lady Katrin!”

“Please put your bag in the first bedroom, then go and shower yourself. ” Leo said, and then to his smiling wife, ” Margrit, I shall grill some prawns, in our guest’s honour! Please prepare him some porridge, for when he gets showered and dressed.  Then, we shall all dine together.”  “Yes, that we must.  It’s a great day to welcome one of our brothers,” the sturdy pastor’s wife announced, “Brittany, do sit and rest. Katrin, please help me peel some carrots.”

The proud little girl carefully peeled and sliced seven carrots, one for her and two for each of the Big People, just as Grandmother had taught her. It was a great day to welcome an uncle.