The Thick Accent

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Posted by on in impediments, Poetry, Social, Striving

September 2, 2016, Prescott-

(A brief thought, on a sultry night, in which I am lying low.)

You cannot understand, why I take up for men in blue.

Do  you not see, that the worst among them represent what will happen,

should the best among them feel abandoned.

You say, “But you don’t understand, that WE don’t understand

their tendency to rush to judgment, and juryhood.

The police speak a language that is indecipherable, in these parts.

This is a language of both words and gestures, often simultaneous with one another.

Their speech and body language, are hard to understand.”

Hmm.  I see the problem of dealing with snap decisions.

The police officer weighs in on the young men gathered up ahead.

“I think I’ll need backup- and have a bus ready.

You never know what tricks some of THEM may have up their sleeves,” he opines,

as the air feels thick with words and gestures, from one and foreign to the other.

I, the translator and peacemaker, get weary- as well as wary.

They Wish

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Posted by on in Personal Values, Poetry, Social, Striving

September 1, 2016, Prescott- 

There are those who view me only as a perpetual motion machine,

and only stop by here, when I’m on the road.

They wish for a byline other than Prescott.

There are those outside the chain of command at my school,

who insert themselves, loudly,

into every step, or misstep, they see my co-workers and I making.

They wish for more people to be under their thumbs.

There are those who would turn back the clock of society,

and stir the pot of public ignorance, at every turn.

They wish for a world that no longer exists,

and which did not really serve its inhabitants all that well.

There are those, the children and young adults,

who will inherit any mess that comes about,

as a result of reckless meddling and mindless ignorance.

They wish to be respected and heard.

There are those who work, diligently, for a better tomorrow,

and who don’t let the clamour of the nonsensical deter them.

They wish for a world that attains its fruition.

There are we, who see each soul as more valuable,

than even he or she might see, in the midst of darkness.

We wish for all to see the Universe, in its true splendour.

You Matter, Too

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Posted by on in Community, Personal goals, Personal Values

August 30-31, 2016, Prescott-  Tomorrow, my Facebook page will have “Blue Lives Matter”, in the profile pic. This does NOT mean that I have suddenly discarded my conviction that Black Lives Matter, Vivas Latinas Importan, or that the world needs Native Americans.

My life has always mattered- to me, to my family, to my core group of friends from adolescence and to countless others met along the way, ever since.  I can’t remember ever really feeling unloved, even in fleeting moments of self-pity.  Worshiping Boous Hoous wouldn’t have gotten me very far, anyway.  I also can’t remember a time when I was truly destitute, in terms of quality human friendships.

Too many, however, can’t say the same.  Too many parents and spouses place conditions on their love.  Too many children are taught that it is harshness and hardness which bring about success in life. Too many in positions of authority, from teachers to police officers, are taught that stridency is the way to bring about obedience, whilst humility is for wimps. Too many, in positions of trust, are deluded by programs and scripts that don’t serve anyone other than the executives of the corporations which dream up these programs and scripts.  Too many vacillate between “Less (staff) is more” and “More (clientele per worker) is optimal.”   Thus Child Protection Agencies, schools and counseling services are operating with insanely unwieldy worker/client ratios.  Too many civil servants and elected officials are encouraged to place themselves above the needs of the people whom they represent.

The truth is, each of us matters- as much as the next.  It has always been so, in the eyes of the Creator.  Black lives matter, too.  Vivas Latinas se importan, tambien.  White lives have never been seen as not mattering.  Native American lives deserve to be valued, a lot more than they seem to be, even today.  Asians, Pacific Islanders, Australian Aboriginals, “Mixed Races” of all kinds matter, also.

One does NOT matter, to the exclusion of others.  The misguided young man who told a Black girl in Buckeye, Arizona, two days ago, that her life and those of her fellows in BLM do not matter, is living in a deluded construct of the past, which can never be successfully revived.

The truth, inconvenient only to those whose own self-loathing  is couched in racism, is that the world is showing us its true nature: There is but one human race, and we all need to get along.  There is no going back, anymore than there is a successful outcome to driving in reverse on a freeway.

I support Blue Lives Matter, because too many decent, hard-working peace officers die on the job.  I support Black Lives Matter because too many decent people of colour are dying young, often at the hands of those who look like them.

My life matters, so does yours.

 

One Less Smile

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Posted by on in Entertainment, Inspiration, Poetry

August 29, 2016, Prescott- 

Far from here, in an historic colonial house,

a funny man breathed his last, today.

There is so much,

and there are so many roles,

by which to remember him.

Like all comics, he was complex.

Like anyone who knew joy,

and then lost it,

he felt anger at that loss.

Like anyone who became known

for a particular role,

he longed for the next project,

the one which would give him his due.

Like anyone who learned to love again,

he held on to that love,

and gave it back,

in spades.

Frederick Frankenstein,

Willy Wonka,

The Waco Kid,

Max Bloom,

Gene Wilder.

Jerome Silberman gave us all a long run,

of both laughs and tears.

Shalom, Jerome.

Whose Truth?

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Posted by on in Community, Matters of Faith, Service Activities, Spiritual, Striving

August 28, 2016, Prescott- I attended a couple of spiritual gatherings, this weekend. Last night, several faith leaders and community activists gathered at Scottsdale Baha’i Center.  The purpose was a delayed Race Unity Day.  The weather has cooled, just a tad, from June’s more extreme temperatures, thus making a late August version of “Juneteenth” more palatable to many.

The array of speakers was far more concerned with solving the ongoing problem of race relations, than in any semblance of showmanship or exclusive claim to truth.  The gathering of about 100 people were able to engage in well-balanced discourse, without resorting to recrimination.

This evening, I joined a much smaller group, at an observance of  Janmashtami,(Krishna’s Birthday), one of the key Hindu religious observances.  It had been 32 years since I last attended any kind of Hindu gathering.  Prescott’s small community is made up of white Americans- an anomaly, with the South Asian community here seeming to be mainly Christian and Muslim.  They are no less fervent, though, than the multitudes of India and Nepal.

The swami, who hails from Sedona, is, like me, a child of the 1960’s.  His inspiration to become Hindu came from the Beatles and others who flocked to the feet of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.  I must say, he has done a fair amount of homework on the body of Hindu  Scripture. Anyone who can cite the data of the created Universe that is listed in such detail ,as it is in the Bhagavad Gita, is worthy of profound respect.

There is, though, a common thread woven through all the religious traditions, from time immemorial.  Each does build on those before it, as Man becomes more conscious of, and in tune with, his unique station on this Earthly plane. Truth, to me, did not stop with Hinduism, Christianity or Islam.  It has not stopped with the Baha’i Faith.  There will be other Spiritual Teachers, Avatars, Buddhas or whichever name one sees fit to apply to a Divine Messenger, and They will come when mankind needs them.

Truth, though, remains One- and none can claim a corner on its entirety. I was gratified to see that the swami and his community has sensed this, and dispelled some misgivings I was about to have, about their faith and its possible trend towards fundamentalism.  I will be able to maintain the same dialogue with the Hindu community that I am still working to establish with devout Christians.

It was a fine, useful weekend.

A Cup O’ Kindness

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Posted by on in Historical, Inspiration, Striving

August 27, 2016, Prescott- Last Sunday, I spent some time with a World War II veteran, retired from the U.S.Army, as a colonel, who commanded a battalion on Utah Beach, during the D-Day invasion, in 1944.  He was fading, when I saw him, so I knew it was a matter of time, before his departure from our midst.

That passing came this evening, and John A. Mortimer, “only 96”, found himself looking down upon many friends who will miss his presence.  His widow, a native of Britain, called him her “Laddie”.  Certainly, during his years of service to his country, including time in the Battle of the Bulge, when he pushed his unit into Germany, with General Patton’s blessing, he moved with the swagger of youth- and made it count for something.

John was still on active duty during the Korean War, but stayed stateside, to monitor the testing of atomic weapons.  It was a decent turn of events, that he did not suffer any ill effects from those unfortunate days.

He served, at our American Legion Post, as a member of the Honour Guard, and was its flag presenter at funerals and memorial services, for several years.  John was also the first person one saw, on Sunday mornings, when breakfast was being served, as he was the cashier.  All that ended, about 1 1/2 years ago, when he became confined to the VA Hospital here in town, and to a wheelchair.

His wit, and keenness for Turner Classic Movies, remained, though, until a couple of weeks ago, when the Good Lord let him know that it was time to start packing up for the journey homeward.  That journey became complete, around 9:30 this evening.

We, his comrades at the Post, will honour John on Labour Day- looking back on his extraordinary life, and taking a cup o’kindness, for his service, and all those long ago days.

Ever Evolving

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Poetry, Striving

August 26, 2016, Prescott- 

I saw the face of our Prescott hero.

She was looking out on us,

from the lead photo of a USA Today piece,

on a series of interviews with those who saw her there,

in that place of desolation, where she was the only source of love.

She loves her people, still.

I wear a message T-shirt,

honouring the fallen men of that day,

three years and two months ago.

They look out upon us,

from a crew photo taken after the Doce Fire,

two weeks before the Death Storm.

They love their families, still.

I look at the woman who loved me,

more than anyone.

She gazes out, with confidence,

from a photo of her teen life.

She gave us the best years of her life.

She loves me still.

I look upon my little ones,

imperfect, works in progress,

sometimes exhausting, at times frightful.

There are those times, though,

when they finish work, when they listen,

when they just know

that I love them still.

 

(To obviate the drumbeat of “Where’s The Book of Poetry?”, know that I will start compiling what I’ve written here and organizing it into a volume, during the next seven days. That volume of verse will hopefully be ready for self-publication by January, 2017.)

 

Nauru

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Posted by on in children, Personal Values, Social

August 24, 2016, Prescott-  I listened to a report, on NPR this morning, about the incarceration of minor children who are undocumented immigrants, caught in Australia.  They are transported to Nauru, a mini-state that was administered by the Australian government, before gaining independence in 1968.  It functioned as a country for some forty years, until the phosphates which abounded on its small land frame, ran out.  Now, Nauru operates as a tax haven and as a prison island.

The detention centre used by Australia lies in a desolate, worn-out mining district.  The treatment meted out to the children, according to a former monitor, who defied Australian law, by speaking out, is violent and as abysmal as the surroundings.  NPR will give Save The Children- Australia, allegedly a partner in the abuse, a chance to present its side of the story, tomorrow.  The Australian government is also being afforded an opportunity to respond to the charges.

Generally, when “child-centered” non-profit organizations turn away from their stated mission, it has become a matter of bringing in enough revenue to meet operating costs, and to avoid angering the powers that be, who are often acquiescent to a “measure” of abuse.  I have seen this in several places, from the Navajo and Lakota Sioux nations, to Phoenix and eastern Massachusetts.

Being complicit, or complacent, in or towards abuse and neglect is a crime against humanity.  To shrug one’s shoulders, and say “Well, money pays the bills.”, will not set well in the eventual court of law that gets to deal with the case.  I will not be surprised to see several Save The Children officials, and people in both the Australian and Nauruan governments, facing a higher court, very soon.

Aloneness at the Top

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Posted by on in collaborating, Social, Striving

August 23, 2016, Prescott- It’s time to take a break from the day-to-day, and think about our leaders, or those who purport to be such.  In a conversation this afternoon, the three of us noted that the school principal has an intense burden, not going out among the staff as often as people seem to want.  When she has shown up, her demeanor is pleasant enough, though the message I get is “Don’t make my work any harder, please.”

I remember having the sense, particularly in my first principalship, of being very much without friends.  My wife was forty miles away, at another school and son was only 10, and trying to juggle going back and forth between two schools, so as not to miss either of us too much.  The staff at my school was cordial, but after work, I went home to the dreariness of DirecTV and a diet of VH1.  The community, egged on by a local racist, was rather on the hostile side.

I reflected on these notions this afternoon, whilst listening to the author of a new book on Donald Trump.  He views his subject as pretty much a loner- a gladhander, yes, but one who tends to prefer his own company- outside of the work day.  Hillary Clinton seems equally a duck out of water, when in the company of strangers, after a certain amount of time.  Barack Obama is engrossed in his family unit, and the company of a small circle of friends.  Indeed, we have to go back to Bill Clinton to see a leader who relishes the crowd, and before him, all the way to John F. Kennedy.

I feel for our leaders, whether local or national.  The late Shah of Iran once remarked, in an interview with the journalist Oriana Fallaci, that, were he to have it all to do over again, he would want to be anything other than a king.  The crush upon a mere mortal has to be both deafening and suffocating.  Most people appreciate, and expect, a leader who will put him/herself aside, as it were, and rush to the side of the suffering.  Many, from George Washington on, wished to do just that- until, in modern times, the combination of security concerns, open calls for harm to be done to said leader, and the seeming ingratitude of some local communities, have led to a pullback by the Comforter-in-Chief, as we have seen in the second Obama term.

Could it be that we, the people, need to reassess our attitudes towards those whom we elect to manage our civic affairs?

 

The Sumo Wrestler Cat

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Posted by on in Education, Personal Values, Striving

August 22, 2016, Prescott-  My primary goal, in my present position, is to build trust with my students, while adhering to the guidelines of the program now being used by the school district.

Hearing their stories, with both ears and heart open, is a major component of building trust with anyone.  There is far too much, of people sticking fingers in their ears and mouthing the equivalent of “Nyah, naah, can’t hear you!”  One way of doing this is “That’s not what the program says!”

While I encourage students to follow the program, being in their world is major.  This morning, one of the boys, whom I met at the bus, told me of his weekend, and his mother getting a new kitten, to add to their feline family.  The patriarch, as it happens, is called the Sumo Wrestler Cat, owing to his girth.  SWC tends to keep his distance from the others, and, true to form, is the first one at the food dish.  The kitten will need to learn this pecking order- in which she is last.  The two juvenile female cats have ideas of their own.

Others have less amusing domestic tales, and as kids do, they bring the troubles of home with them into the classroom.  The task of changing mindsets, and letting even the most woebegone know they are loved beyond measure, falls to yours truly.  I think most adults here WANT to be able to show caring for these children, but not getting it returned in kind, wears on those who are themselves needy. On we go, however, and my eternal optimist middle manager sees “incremental progress” being made, already.