Category Archives: Striving

Nooses

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Posted by on in Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

February 24, 2016, Prescott- In “To Kill A Mockingbird”, Scout reminds one of the racist men that he, too, is a father. The man then walks away from a hateful mob. I was reminded of that scene, this evening, when a “racially-mixed” couple made a presentation, on their experience living here in this largely Libertarian city. It seems that, not so many years ago, a noose was tied and left hanging, from a tree branch in their front yard. While many treat them well, there are those I have historically viewed as misfits, trying to make those they view as square pegs, fit into round holes of their imaginations.

We each set a noose to a tree, at some point in our lives. Usually, it’s the noose of blame- intended for someone else, as a way of evading responsibility. Sometimes, it’s the noose of “Us vs. Them”. Other times, the “wagons in a circle” noose hangs, from the branch of imbalance. We certainly see lots of these, of late.

The worst nooses of all, though, are those we set for ourselves. The noose of anger, or that of addiction, lead us to swing from some unsightly branches. The noose of self-pity, now, there’s one I have to work especially hard to keep off my neck, at times.

I am getting better at facing such traps, and cutting them down, before finding myself looking at a victim- or being one.  It’s been nearly 24 years since we heard, from a flawed, but cogent, voice: “Can’t we all just get along?”

Prehensile

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Posted by on in Inner Struggles, Personal goals, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

February 23, 2016, Prescott- 

Northern lights, prehensile, love in all its forms, dish soap

I have often struggled, over the years, to understand the motives and behaviour of my contemporaries and certain of my elders. Children and teens, especially since I have “grown up” are easier to “grasp”, in terms of what makes them tick.

I have done better in understanding people of all ages, over the past five or six years, having seen, firsthand, how stress and anxiety can lead good people to hurt others. God knows, I have dished out a few hurts, myself, and also because of stress.

Lubricants, of various kinds, from dish soap to sweet nothings, can ease much pain and lend to the solution of all kinds of problems. Their partner in so doing is love, in all its forms. I have written about love, of course, most recently on Valentine’s Day. The expected earful, about love being far more than mere romance, was not long in coming. To me, the fact is that love is the basis for the existence of the Universe.

The Creator’s Love for His creatures is evident in everything that is good, and in all the challenges that beset us, as well. Some have faced sufficient challenges in this life, as to want to throw things at me, for having said this. It remains, however, that challenges and problems are frequently the vehicles to illumination and understanding. A physical example lies in the solar storms and flares that,,apparent.

I will write further about those realizations that have come to me, through trial, especially over the past twenty six years. It is my goal to give rest to the adage, “There’s no fool like an old fool.”

The Weevils Don’t Stand A Chance

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Fiction, Poetry, Striving

February 21, 2016, Prescott-

24. tower, kettle, hawk, charm, cotton

This little verse is about a tower, and the fields below.

A group of slaves found themselves set free,

The tower once home to their masters,

Became theirs to oversee.

The crop they grew was cotton,

Their fields were often sodden.

The moisture also led to evil,

in the form of  dreadful weevils.

Now, the ex-captives were not simple-minded,

nor to solutions were they blinded.

On a cool spring morning,

they met and talked.

Of a sudden,

they heard a squawk.

The tower’s roof

was now home to a hawk.

“How do we get our bird friend

to like weevils?”, one mused.

“Let us spread some kettle corn!”,

another newly freed man enthused.

“This will draw some swamp rats in,

the hawk will swoop down and feast on the vermin.

Once the rats have been decimated,

the raptor will seek another way to be sated.

He will spot the busy weevils,

make several meals of them,

and the cotton, reap, we will!”

So it went, that the men worked hard,

their own well-being, to safeguard.

They managed to charm some ladies from town,

and families soon sprang up.

The team was no longer trodden down.

 

Whose Love Is It, Anyway

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Posted by on in Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Uncategorized

February 14, 2016, Prescott- I spent Valentine’s Day on a trail, of which more in the next post. Right now, I feel the need to address some concerns that came up, regarding a post I wrote on another social media site.

No, love is not physical in origin. It is not limited to the chosen few, nor is it something that should cause rifts between friends, siblings or parents/children. In a contentious society, such as the one we have now, such rifts often happen- over anything.

Love is a spiritual force. It began with everything we experience with our senses, being brought into existence. It became manifest in plants, when they propagated. Likewise, with animals, when they procreated, then nurtured their offspring and family members.

Humans have taken love to the next level- and we see the spiritual, feel the eternal. I have spent the past five Valentine’s Days as an observer, a well-wisher to couples, and a would-be soother to the distressed. There have been some, including one I thought was a friend, who have attacked me for even hinting that we should treat today as a time for honouring the concept of relationships. More’s the pity.

The fact is, most of us have been in a close friendship that, sooner or later, evolves into romance, and in many cases, marriage. Many of us, myself included, have had such friendships, and I have certainly had my share of those which “went south”.

I have had one that endured, and that’s really all that matters-in my case. Love is eternal. It will survive the worst of excesses, abuses and miscarriages of justice. It can be confused with its physical manifestations of affection, and lust. They feel good, when they are mutually accepted by both in a friendship, for a time. Real love, coming from the spirit, feels good for all time.

Hope your Valentine’s Day went well. If it didn’t, may you receive more love, as this year progresses.

 

Vigils

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Posted by on in children, Education, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

February 13, 2016, Glendale- The slight, bespectacled girl embraced her tall, athletic friend, and caressed her blonde forelock. “Are you scared? You are safe now.”, the shorter girl spoke, in comfort and assurance.

There were about 500 of us here, tonight, at Independence High School, in the southern corner of this vibrant, artsy city, immediately to the west of Phoenix. Yesterday, two girls, who were openly in a relationship, died in what appears to have been a murder-suicide. We were here to pray and place lit candles at the makeshift memorial that lines the southern exterior wall of the gymnasium. Those who felt like talking, did. Those who needed a hug from someone they knew and trusted, got all the comfort they could handle.

I am a stranger here, tonight. It was 2011, when I last worked in a classroom at Independence High, as well as at the other campuses of Glendale Union High School District. I had good experiences here, and got on well with the students. This evening, though, drew me like moth to flame. I explained my ties to one of the current school counselors, who was introducing herself to anyone who seemed out of place, and making sure we had a connection to the school. It was enough for me to just stand and silently pray, offer positive thoughts and accept a candle from one of the other teachers. It was graciously lit by a well-dressed student, and I joined a line of people in placing the candles at the memorial site. I stayed for about 20 minutes further.

Candlelight vigils have become all too common- as have the acts of despair, of giving up, which lead to the cause of the vigils One of my online friends responded to my initial post about the girls’ deaths, with one word: “Bleh”. My own response, every, single time is a sinking heart.

This is Valentine’s Eve. People at other high schools are having dances and parties. People across this maddening, beautiful Valley, with its frenetic traffic and culture of anonymity are crowding into hotels and motels, paying premium prices for the sake of a holiday. At Independence, suffering proto-adults, and their elders, are doing what far too many of their peers have had to do, since 1997: Mourn those among them who have fallen victim- sometimes by their own hand, sometimes by the Hand of Anonymous Rage.

It would be nice to be able to simply say: STOP!- and have it be so. For now, though, all I can do is be here for people I’ve never met, people who might recognize me from five years ago, people who are part of a generation I have come to love with the highest level of intensity. I want “my kids” to thrive, to dream, to live to the fullest.

I dream- of the day when vigils may come to an end.

A Bit About Frugality

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Posted by on in Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving

February 12, 2016, Prescott- Today’s prompt calls for using a quote from a famous diarist. Who better for this, than the great Samuel Pepys?

“He that will not stoop for a pin will never be worth a pound.”
― Samuel Pepys, The Diary of Samuel Pepys: A Selection

Ben Franklin, William Shakespeare and W. C. Fields all had things to say about pinching small coins. So did my father, God be with him.

Hon. Pepys, Member of Parliament in his time, looked a tad like William Shatner, and spoke like Mr. Franklin. His mantra, and mine: “Waste not, want not”.

I use things to their fullest, and though generous when I have it to share, I really don’t like throwing money in the air, so to speak. Some regard me as profligate. That is their entitled opinion. I honour my commitments and live by the advice of the great financial consultant, Dave Ramsey.

What has this to do with Samuel Pepys? He, too, was a man of limited means, who wasted nothing, and expected less. He got to travel a bit, as he served in the Royal British Navy. I have traveled, more than a bit, because I seek to serve my Lord and because I have wanted to pay homage to my late father-in-law and to the plans my late wife and I made, years ago, which never came to fruition, while she was on this Earth.

Frugal? Not in substance, but definitely in spirit. Don’t believe me? Visit my home sometime, and look at my wardrobe. 🙂

My Life Thus Far: The Seventies

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Posted by on in Family, Inner Struggles, Social, Striving, Travel

February 11, 2016, Prescott- Today was brutal, for many people about whom I care. It wasn’t so bad for me, personally, because I stayed put-mostly out of financial prudence. Things will be better that way, tomorrow.

So, I will continue recounting what has been good, and not so good, with the years gone by. A lot of you, my faithful WP readers, despised my account of the Sixties. Brace yourselves: Things went a tad south for me, as twentysomething, but I lay the blame at my own two feet. Therefore, if you were rankled by me as a teen, skip this post.

1970-High Point: Being in Fort Myer for the entire year.

Low Point: Stan E. getting killed in combat.

People in the heart: Cathy P., my best long-distance phone friend; my three faithful roommates in the TriService barracks; Don and Charley,my co-workers; Stan E., who died for his country.

Places in the heart: Georgetown, DC; the C & P Canal Towpath; Lynn Beach, when I was on leave.

1971-High Point: Being stationed in the Cholon section of Saigon.

Low Point: Wretched, crowded, chaotic Long Binh Army Base.

People in the heart: Jim T., who stood up for his girls; Tay Lanh, who honoured my dignity; Bill B., Arnie P. and Roger D., my buddies in Cholon; the Henderson family, who overlooked my surly temperament, while I was in Sydney; Tommy W., who didn’t deserve to have been left alone, while injured.

Places in the heart: Cholon; Vung Tau; Tauranga Park; Woollahra.

1972- High Point: My hitchhiking trip across North America.

Low Point: Ignoring what I had been told about spiritual truth.

People in the heart: Dave G., who gave me my first post-Army job; my workmates, Jimmy, Jan, Donna and Franny; Jim F., my long-suffering boss; Lillies S., the college office manager, who told me to always set my sights high; my hometown buddies, who welcomed me back from ‘Nam; the Gordon family, of Toronto, who camped with me, along Lake Superior; Kathy B., with whom I almost fell madly in love; the Bullocks, who hosted me in Baltimore, for a week; the anonymous truck driver in King of Prussia, who introduced me to the Baha’i Faith; Sandy and Al, my housemates; Donna G., who tried to be a good friend.

Places in the heart: North Shore Community College; Montreal; Lake Superior; Edmonton; Jasper; Lake Louise; Babb, MT; Morgantown, WV; Baltimore; Ocean City; Bethlehem, PA; my little room in Beverly, MA.

1973- High Point: Visiting Prince Edward Island.

Low Point: The Chelsea Fire.

People in the heart: Geary C., Alan A., Sandy G. and Angie D., my friends at NSCC; just about everyone I met on PEI; the hipster who filled my tank with gas, for giving him a ride from Ellsworth to Boothbay.

Places in the heart: Beverly,MA; Salem; Boston Public Library; Prince Edward Island; New Glasgow, NS; Boothbay Harbor, ME.

1974- High Point: Working at Quisisana Resort, ME.

Low Point: The botched attempt to serve as editor of “Sage Revisited”.

People in the heart: All my NSCC and Beverly friends; Kathy H., Annette K, Tom & Fricky J., Sandy M., the Grices and Dave B., who were my friends and co-workers at “Quisi”; Dr. and Mrs. Ziv, my “Jewish grandparents” from lower Manhattan; Jimmy S. and Mr. McGregor, who offered me work close to home; my dorm mates in Orchard Hill, at UMass-Amherst.

Places in the heart: Quisisana Resort, Lovell, ME; Bar Harbor; North Conway; Amherst; Fisher Island, NY.

1975- High Point: Hiking the Presidential Range, in New Hampshire’s White Mountains.

Low Point: Getting fired from a part-time job, on my 25th birthday.

People in the heart: My campus buddies at UMass; Mrs. Braman, the housemother in my rooming house, in Northampton; Steve R., Paul W. and Ken C., my brainy, irreverent and totally sloppy first housemates in South Deerfield; the Rivard family, who moved in, after the guys were evicted; Allan D., my internship co-op teacher; Lloyd Z. and Linda D., who imparted good pedagogy; every child who put up with me in that little U.S. History class; the Zivs.

Places in the heart: Amherst; Northampton; South Deerfield; the White Mountains; lower Manhattan.

1976- High Point: Graduating from UMass.

Low Point: Almost losing a sibling, in an accident.

People in the heart: Dave C. and Janet C., my Quisisana friends and a most unlikely couple; Fred L., aka “Doctor Dirt”; Clay R., my younger doppelganger; the Smalls, who lodged me in Bangor; the Bryants, who fed me, whenever I tutored their son; Mr. Bluestein, who stressed the value of a dollar; Peter W., who hired me as a Teacher Aide; Cheryl Q., who mentored me.

Places in the heart: Bangor, Brewer and Etna,ME;

1977- High Point: My brother, David’s, wedding.

Low Point: Being evicted, on false pretenses, in the middle of February.

People in the heart: Cheryl Q., Peter W., Greg F., Susan C., Grace P. and Evelyn L., who tried their best to be mentors and friends; Lucy and Ronnie R., who took me in from the dead of winter; John and Mary M., my cousin and his wife, who were always there for me; my eight unsettled, troubled and always worthwhile students, in the Behaviorally-Challenged class; my first and fourth-graders, that second year, who re-assured me that I could serve as a teacher.

Places in the heart: Brewer, Etna, Vinalhaven and Fort Kent, ME; Fredericton and Edmundston, NB; Riviere Bleu and Lac Megantic, QB.

1978- High Point: My sister, Cheryl’s, wedding.

Low Point: Losing my temper on a school field trip to a museum.

People in the heart: My friends and well-wishers at Etna-Dixmont School; my new supervisors at Villa School, Toltec, AZ; many of my students, at both schools; Mrs. Knox, my landlady, over the summer.

Places in the heart: Bangor, Etna, Dexter and Kingfield, ME.; Mactaquac Park and Saint John, NB; Toltec, Casa Grande, Phoenix, Tucson and Grand Canyon, AZ; Amarillo; Chicago; Toledo.

1979- High Point: My first solo visit to Mexico.

Low Point: Encountering a dangerous sex offender, in the New Mexico desert.

People in the heart: Lynda E., Patrick G., Bill K., John G.- my co-workers at Villa; the vast majority of my students; the two sisters who drove me from Little Rock to Albuquerque, without regard for my disheveled state; the majority of my fellow travelers, between Phoenix and Boston, and back; the young lady who gave me a ride from Grand Canyon to Las Vegas, in an empty tour bus, just for the sake of having company.

Places in the heart: Casa Grande;Grand Canyon; Tucson; Puerto Penasco; Hermosillo; Ensenada; Woodfords and Bishop, CA; Hodgenville and Mammoth Cave, KY.

This decade brought a lot of painful personal growth to my doorstep. There are many people from those days who, if they were never to see me again, it would be too soon. There are others whom I miss, sorely. The big lessons are that alcohol and autism are a wicked combination. Lack of even rudimentary social skills surfaced, at the worst possible times, though thankfully, it was all pretty much done by the time I moved to Arizona. When a rough-edged former co-worker tried to nail me with the label of “loser”, towards the end of 1979, his words fell on deaf ears.

The Eighties would be, by and large, awesome.

 

My Life Thus Far: The Sixties

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Posted by on in Family, Inner Struggles, Personal goals, Social, Striving

February 5, 2016, Phoenix- I had my lunch, of spicy California rolls, at Dreamy Draw Park, a popular desert redoubt, on the northeast side of town, before going in for what was an encouraging dental checkup.

While sitting in the coolness of the Sonoran Desert, I went back, in my mind to the years of adolescence.

1960-High Point: The New England Shopping Center opened.

            Low Points:  Ellen moved; my Grandma died.

People in the Heart: Barbara I., Ellen S.

Places in the Heart: Makepeace Hill, Johns Pond (Mashpee)

1961-High Point: Hiking Mt. Chocorua, NH.

Low Point: Having a stupid meltdown, while on that camping trip.

People in the Heart: The Geotis family, who moved into the Statutos’ old house; the members of my Boy Scout troop.

Places in the Heart: The White Mountains of New Hampshire (all of them).

1962- High Point: Family gatherings at Kingston State Park, NH. Low Point: Five days in the hospital.

 Low Point:  Five days in the hospital.

People in the Heart: A tall, beautiful girl in our grade (anonymous, out of respect to her and her loving husband); my then new friends, Dean and the late Mike; three beautiful sisters, who were friends of our extended family.

Places in the Heart: Canobie Lake; Kingston State Park.

1963- High Point: Putting an end to being bullied in Grade 8.

Low Point: The death of John F. Kennedy. People in the Heart: Half the female population of Saugus Junior High School.

 People in the Heart:  Half the female population of Saugus Junior High School.

Places in the Heart: Every school building that was torched by a serial arsonist, who was in our class.

1964- High Point: Promoting out of Grade 8.

Low Point: Dealing with enuresis.

People in the Heart: Those three beautiful sisters; the thugs who actually stood up for me.

Places in the Heart: Our cellar, where I could shine the family’s shoes and listen to the richness of pop music; Breakheart Pond.

1965- High Point: Getting my own newspaper route.

Low Point: Dealing with a pedophile.

People in the Heart: My neighbourhood group of friends (who remain my friends to this day).

Places in the Heart:  Breakheart, Johns Pond, the Saugus Howard Johnson’s Restaurant (where so many of us hung out); Mt. Chocorua.

1966- High Point: Getting my driver’s license.

Low Point:  Working out the bugs in my own driving behaviour.

People in the Heart:  Most of my newspaper customers; Coach Wall, who put me through Driver Boot Camp, and whom I credit for 50 years of driving, with only two, one-car, accidents; Joan M., one of my best female friends, ever. Places in the Heart: Martha’s Vineyard; the above-mentioned spots, from 1965.

Places in the Heart:  Martha’s Vineyard; the above-mentioned spots, from 1966.

1967- High Point  Getting a job at a supermarket.

Low Point: Struggling on the job.

People in the Heart: Bob Powers, my first boss, and one of the finest people for whom I’ve ever worked; all my above-mentioned peers from Saugus High.

Places in the Heart: Merrymeeting Lake, Alton, NH; Fireplace 10, at Lynn Beach.

1968- High Point: Graduating Saugus High School.

Low Points: Not taking college seriously; all the crap that went down that Spring.

People in the Heart: Ron Gerace, my fourth boss; Professor Ahmad and Jim Gorman, who tried to set me straight about college; Katie W., to whom I should have paid more attention.

Places in the Heart: The old campus of UMass-Boston; the Back Bay; Hampton Beach, NH.

1969- High Point: Completing Army Basic training.

Low Point: Leaving college, feeling like a failure. People in the Heart:  My Army buddies, Tim and Mike; Drill Sergeants Cummings, Wescott, and Green.

 People in the Heart:  My Army buddies, Tim and Mike; Drill Sergeants Cummings,             Wescott, and Green.

Places in the Heart:  Downtown Columbia, SC; Myrtle Beach; Indianapolis.

Junior High had its share of abysmal moments. High school, I must say, was freeing. I had a core group of friends, and yet made the rounds of several groups of people, in Saugus and in nearby Melrose. I was too young, emotionally, to have attempted college. Girls and protest marches were way bigger in my life than studying. So, 1969 found me treading water in a job at my Dad’s GE Plant, then signing myself up for the Army. It was past time to stop being the family nuisance. On June 16, 1969, I left for Fort Jackson, SC.

I did not, in the scheme of things, end the ’60’s too badly. By October, 1969, I had made a place for myself on a “clean-up crew”, re-establishing Army postal service to the residents of Tri-Service Barracks, Fort Myer, VA. Still, the bugaboo of alcohol dependency, along with mild autism, kept me from bonding with many people and created all manner of problems, with my family and with others, who didn’t know me very well. The hiatus of Boot Camp and Advanced Individual Training did bring me a bit further along towards adulthood, but relapse came, once I was back in routine.

The ’70’s would be the first of my two lost decades.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Road in Winter,Part II

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Posted by on in Inspiration, Spiritual, Striving

February 3, 2016, Prescott- A deep freeze has visited us, these past two days. I took my students in Chino Valley outside, yesterday. Today, it was a bit colder, and my special needs student stayed inside. It’ll be more like Arizona, tomorrow, and for the next several days. In fact, we’re expecting 65 on Sunday.

This brings me to the notion that some have, about one’s sixties being the start of the Winter of life. I had a wintry start to my sixtieth year, and it did end with the passing of my beloved. Since then, though, and not without her influence, I feel my own Winter is a ways off. For one thing, I am far from ready to stop working. For another, my energy level has not gone down, and no one who really knows me is saying, “Slow down!”

I love helping children find their direction in life, and acquire the skills needed to do that. I treasure being in nature, and trails abound, both here in Arizona, and increasingly, just about anywhere else.

So, what of the road in winter? My own expectations, as previously stated, are that it will filled with wonder and constant learning. I have been warned, by the constantly-hectoring elder generation, to “just wait” until I reach my 80’s and 90’s. Then, I am told, “You’ll see how the cow chews the cabbage.” Maybe so,and if it rolls that way, I’ll deal with it. On the other hand, there are Dick Van Dyke, and Betty White, to show us that the cow not only chews the cabbage, but digests it well and comes back for more.

I wish, for everyone who has embraced their sunset, to have as many days of solid energy as possible, and not to lose sight of a dream. I’d rather take after one of the two above-mentioned entertainers, or Kirk Douglas, seemingly back from death’s door, at least twice, or the late Bob Hope, who joyfully celebrated his centenary, before heading to a new stage.

Dylan Thomas was onto something.

Portrait of the Poet

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Posted by on in Education, Historical, Poetry, Spiritual, Striving

February 1, 2016, Prescott-

The Winter Scavenger Hunt prompt says “artist”, not “poet”, but a poet IS an artist.

Today begins the month “officially” set aside as Black History Month. African-Americans certainly are not limited to any given point along a year, in terms of their impact on our nation’s history. Yet, why quibble? We do well to reach as far back as possible, in comprehending the spirit and drive that gives each individual, regardless of ethnicity or melanin level, the capacity for great achievement.

The first published African-American poet, Phillis Wheatley, was brought to Boston at the age of 8, from either Gambia or Senegal. She was given the name Phillis by her captor, Peter Gwinn, and sold as a slave to a tailor named John Wheatley. The Wheatley family taught Phillis to read and write, encouraging her to study the Classics.

Phillis began to write her own poetry at the age of 14. She drew the favourable attention of both British and American leaders of both politics and thought, having audiences with the Lord Mayor of London and George Washington. Thomas Paine published her work in the Pennsylvania Gazette, and she drew favourable commentary from Voltaire.

Things went sour for Phillis, after her master died. Though she was freed, under the terms of his will, and married a Free African-American grocer, John Peters, the prevailing view of society was not favourable towards African-Americans. The Peters’ struggled financially, John was imprisoned, in 1784 and Phillis, along with their infant son, died shortly thereafter, she being only 31.

Here is a sample of her poetry, which drew on both Christian and animist influences, as well as ancient Greek and European Enlightenment thought.

“On Virtue”

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
Thine height t’ explore, or fathom thy profound.
But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.
Fain would the heav’n-born soul with her converse,
Then seek, then court her for her promis’d bliss.

Auspicious queen, thine heav’nly pinions spread,
And lead celestial Chastity along;
Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,
Array’d in glory from the orbs above.
Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!
O leave me not to the false joys of time!
But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
To give me an higher appellation still,
Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,
O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of day.[9]

Phillis had conflicting feelings about slavery, recognizing, on one level that it was the cruelest of institutions, while simultaneously expressing the view that captivity had served her well, by bringing her to Christianity.

In any event, I see Phillis Wheatley as the first great African-American woman, in public life.