Colin Kaepernick has the First Amendment on his side

It all started with Colin Kaepernick (I had to google his name's spelling and my spell check has underlined it!) but it has spread. Athletes and others are finding ways to make political statements during the playing of The National Anthem.

I've never once put my hand over my heart for the National Anthem though I'm sure I did in grade school when saying the Pledge of Allegiance. It just never occurred to me that a hand over the heart was necessary. But, of course, I stand. I stand out of respect for a country and a flag that has, more often than not, delivered on it's promises to me.

I've never missed a meal except on purpose. I've always felt safe, wherever I was. I've always had everything I've needed and some things I didn't need but 'wanted'. I've never been spoken harshly to by a police officer (well, there was that peace protest or two...but that was part of the reason we were protesting, to be spoken harshly to and, if really lucky, to be arrested!) I walk through 'my' American Life like a kid through a field of 4 leaf clovers. I can, from time to time, resent the super-rich Americans...but who doesn't!

I've blogged again and again about how 'blessed' I am in many more ways than I could ever deserve. Just the facts, Ma'am.

But the First Amendment's promise of 'free speech' and free expression means that if I have not lived the life the Constitution and Bill of Rights and Declaration of Independence has promised me, I can speak out about that--literally or symbolically.

And believe you me, I know I'm one of the 'chosen' in all this. I know minorities--racial, cultural, religious minorities--aren't always treated like me and this country hasn't delivered on the American Dream for them.

So, Colin Kaepernick and all the other minority folks who are finding a way to make a statement about the Star Spangled Banner not waving for their people (though for the professional athletes involved, the American Dream is theirs...but not for all their people, not by a long shot.

My pondering is 'should I join them' since 'their people' are 'my people' too--Americans. We are, in all our diversity and perhaps, just perhaps because of our diversity, ONE. Maybe, just maybe, those of us who have been 'blessed' need to identify with and support and 'be One' with those the Dream has left behind and forgot.

Maybe, just maybe, until all of us are truly equal, none of us are 'blessed'.

I'm going to ponder that. You're welcome to ponder it as well.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Colin Kaepernick and his supporters, are pointing a way forward for us ALL.

I'll ponder that greatly and deeply.

a steel cage match might work...

Honestly, the way Clinton and Trump are going after each other I'm beginning to think a steel cage match might work better than debates!

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought Vice Presidential candidates were supposed to be 'attack dogs' for the head of the ticket. That's the way it's seemed in the past. But not time time. Pence and Kaine are the adults in the room. I almost wish we could flip the tickets and the two of them would be the candidates for the White House.

I can see Pence and Kaine having a real, college level 'debate'. But watching 4 between Clinton and Trump may be more carnage than any of us can stomach.

My primary problem with the way the two of them are railing about each other is that is just making the electorate more and more polarized--and I don't remember us ever being the polarized since Goldwater and Johnson.

The 'moderates' usually decide elections. However, in this campaign it's hard to imagine who those folks might be.

Could we start over and have Biden run on the re-run and have the Republicans figure out how to stop Trump this time around?

Really! I'm a yellow dog Democrat but the curs all seem to be at the top of the tickets....

Brooklyn and back

Going to see Ellie and Mimi and Tim is always an adventure. We went on the train from New Haven to Grand Central and Bern wanted to do an Uber car to Brooklyn. OK, in my mind, Uber officially sucks!

She had our location on her smart phone--42nd and Vanderbilt, on the other side of 42nd from the station and Uber said they'd be there in 9 minutes, then 5, then 3, then 9 again, then 5, then 9 again...on and on for an hour in the heat and humidity of Manhattan. Three cabbies said they didn't go to Brooklyn though they're all supposed to. In near despair we took the 4/5 train to Atlantic Avenue and Tim met us for the 5 minute walk to South Elliot Place.

We had two children and three other granddaughters, so we are not without experience. But to my knowledge, I've never seen a baby like Ellie. She nurses, sleeps and looks around. She seems almost Zen-like in her calmness. Since the day she was born--when she was in a lot of distress--I haven't heard her cry. She gets fussy and Mimi nurses her and she sleeps and then looks around, very interested in sights and sounds. Mimi put her on her stomach on a wonderful cloth with lots of stuff she'll be interested in later, and she turned over onto her back! I've never seen a month old baby who could turn over!

Well, enough. I could go on and on....how Zen-like Mimi and Tim are with her, how lovely she is, how smart and talented she's going to be...grandparent b.s.

The trip home was good. Subway from Atlantic Ave to Grand Central, train to New Haven, home before dark. I let Bern out to go deal with the neglected Puli and went to get a pizza (white pizza with sliced tomatoes and lots of garlic and fresh basil--wonderful) and wine.

I ate a grilled cheese sandwich Mimi made me all day, until the pizza. Bern only ate a banana all day until the pizza. But Ellie is worth half-starving yourself.

She truly is. I kid you not....

But I'm getting too old to go to Brooklyn and back in one day. I truly am. I'm worn out. To bed though it's not 10 p.m. yet....

Going to see Ellie tomorrow

This time we're taking the train to Grand Central and the subway to Brooklyn to spend several hours with Mimi, Tim and Ellie.

For 14 years now, I've referred to "Mimi and Tim", so it is new to include little Ellie--one month old--in the same sentence.

Yet, there they are, waiting for us in Brooklyn tomorrow, their little family--our beloved trio.

What a jarring difference a baby, a granddaughter, makes.

Numbers are expanded. Thoughts are altered. Life changes.

Bern bought Mimi and Tim a red snapper, frozen, that will take along with other food and gifts.

Every year for the past seven, Tim and Mimi have gone to Oak Island with Bern and me and John Anderson and Sherrie Ellis. We usually go this week--Labor Day week. But because of Ellie's pending birth, we put it off to September 17-24, hoping they could come. They don't feel they want to travel--and I don't blame them--so we'll go without them.

Everyone of us are readers and eaters so what we normally do is read and eat. And on the Friday before we leave, Mimi and Tim go to Southport, to where the fishing boats dock, and buy Red Snapper for our last dinner of vacation. Since they won't be there, we'll take the fish to them.

Oak Island is where we went on vacation for about 20 years--before either Josh or Mimi were born until they didn't want to go, even bringing a friend.

Then 8 years ago or so, Mimi called and asked where Oak Island was and we told her. She and Tim went and when they got back they called and said they were going every year and we'd go with them! So, that's what we've done.

Since we go after school starts Josh and Cathy and the girls have never come, but John and Sherrie come (and next year, Sherrie's husband, Jack who is retiring this year). And next year, as well, our new little trio of Mimi, Tim and Ellie. Ellie obviously won't be a reader and she'll distract us joyously from our books. But it will be heaven.

We rent these huge and wonderful houses, right on the ocean and walk and look for shells and read and eat and do nothing much. Just the kind of vacation I'm about....

Humbled, again....

My cousin, Gayle Pugh Keller, sent me a check today that was part of our Aunt Elsie's bequests to her many nieces and nephews. I never dreamt of such generosity or thoughtfulness on the part of my last aunt/uncle to depart this mortal coil.

My Grandmother, on my mother's (and Gayle's) side of the family was Lina Manona Sadler who married Eli Jones. They had 5 children who lived to adulthood and 2 that didn't.

My Grandmother, on my father's side was a McCormick who married a Bradley. They had five children.

Here's the humbling truth--all my twenty aunts and uncles were decent, hard-working, honest, loving people. Everyone in both sides of my family was. All my myriad first cousins were.

Not a 'bad apple' on either tree.

I had an idyllic childhood in a part of the world most people couldn't imagine as being idyllic!

Places like Conklintown, Jenkinjones, Pageton, Anawalt, Princeton, Waiteville--all tucked in the mountains of southern West Virginia, were places where it was safe and nurturing and wondrous to grow up.

That check from Gayle, who was distributing Aunt Elsie's largess to her kin, made me literally weep.

I am often struck by how lucky (or in theological terms: "blessed") I have been. What loving, gentle people raised me.

From beyond the grave, Aunt Elsie's generosity to me--to all the cousins--gives me pause to give thanks for the life I have lived and the people who lived it with me....

school starts next Monday...for me...

Kids in Connecticut are back in school. Since there are 7 kids living as our next door or next-next door neighbors, the school bus picks them up and drops them off in front of our driveway. That gives Bela an excuse to bark for 5 minutes or so, just as he does for the mail carrier. I wish he had a switch that would turn off his bark, but he doesn't. I'm sure he thinks he's doing his job--alerting us to activity near the house.

My school starts next Monday. I teach at the Osher Life-long Learning Institute (OLLI) at the UConn branch in Waterbury. This term I'm doing a 5 week session on "Reading the Gospels Side-by-Side". One of the things we do that annoys me no end is 'conflate' the 4 very different stories of Jesus into one narrative. So, I teach this course, making sure people realize Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are distinct and different.

I'll jump to the end and share with you what I share to end the class.

LOOKING FOR JESUS

          Most of us are looking for Jesus.

          One place we could expect to find Jesus is in the Four Gospels. So we turn to them. If we read them critically and carefully, what we discover is not Jesus but Four distinct Jesus'.

          When confronted with that reality, there are two obvious reactions. Either I (I'll speak only for myself here and invite you to ponder your reaction)...either I despair and give up my search OR I walk the road with each of the Gospel writer's Jesus' and glean what I can from the four of them.

          When I am doubtful, it is Mark's Jesus I want to walk beside because he too struggled with doubt. He spends time with the wild beasts. He can't seem to understand what is being asked of him by God. He agonizes in the Garden. He feels abandoned on the cross. Mark's Jesus is a good companion in times of doubt.

          When I am confused, it is Matthew's Jesus I turn to. Matthew's Jesus is jerked away from his home to a foreign land. His earthly father relies on dreams and visions of angels in his confusion. The Magi visit him and give him great gifts. Matthew's Jesus knows that traditions and boundaries and scripture can help in times of confusion. Matthew's Jesus knows right from wrong, truth from Falsehood, the sheep from the goats. Matthew's Jesus stands on the mountain top and speaks wisdom to those who are in darkness and confusion. The Jesus of Matthew has correctives to my confusion.

          John's Jesus is my traveling companion when things are going well and I am feeling confident. John's Jesus is certain and resolute and convinced of his purpose and his way. John's Jesus has an ego to match my own. Nothing much bothers him. His eyes are on the prize. His feet are firmly on the ground even as his soul soars to heavenly places. In 'good times' John's Jesus is the ideal companion. He can validate my confidence, inspire me to even greater things, teach me that I am loved and meant to love others. He breathes on me and wishes me “Shalom”, which means fullness and health and hopefulness. There is nothing like the Jesus of John when God's in his heaven and all is right with the world. Walking the road with him just reaffirms my optimism and hopefulness and sense of well-being.

          But when I suffer, when  I am in pain, only Luke's Jesus will do. He will walk with me to Emmaus and calm my fears and set my heart of fire. The breathless, timeless songs and poetry of Luke soothe me, heal me. Luke's Jesus is the healer, the non-anxious presence, the font of all Compassion. Luke's Jesus walks with those in distress, in pain, in need. Luke's Jesus is constantly standing with the marginalized and outcasts. Luke's Jesus teaches us on the same level where we stand. He is always on my level, near me, suffering with me, forgiving me, holding me near. Luke's Jesus walks the road of our world's suffering. He knows me through and through. He bears my burden. He lightens my load. He touches me and makes me whole.

          Seeking Jesus and finding four is 'good news'. Four companions on the Way to the Lover of souls, four brothers with various gifts for various needs, four faces of God, four revelations of the Almighty.

          A hymn from my childhood says, “What a friend we have in Jesus....” It is wondrous and precious to have a friend. But to have four, all of whom love me and care for me and walk my road with me. What could be better than that???

46 (actually 52) and counting

I was 17 and Bern was 14 when we met in Latin class. I was thinking of going to Shimer College in Chicago and they wanted a year of language. Latin was the only language taught in my high school, so I signed up. I didn't go to Shimer, but I met Bern, a Freshman while I was a Senior.

A month or two later, we kissed under the bleachers at a Gary High School football game. I was hooked, really. Six years later we were married.

Labor Day (September 5th) is our 46th anniversary. I don't usually share things I write for Bern, but thought I would share the poem I wrote her for this anniversary.

The Poem I Can’t Write

For days now I’ve been trying

to write a poem that just won’t come.

It’s for our anniversary and about my love,

so it should flow out without any effort,

since I love you so very much.

But the poem is hiding from me,

peeking at me from around the corner,

avoiding me at all cost, it seems.

Page after page I throw away

(or, more accurately, erase from my computer).

Forty-six years of marriage (and years before that)

of loving you—the words should pour out,

full of passion and wonder and amazement.

This time I realized something,

my love for you isn’t something ‘out there’,

that I can examine, reflect on, put into words.

That love is in those letters in the attic.

That love has altered, changed, become incarnate.

The love I feel for you is, quite simply, me.

I am my love for you. It is my very ‘being’

That cannot be captured and enclosed in words.

That is ‘who I am’. So, I am your poem.

This poem is ‘me’, my very being, the “I” I call myself.

I am yours. Your anniversary poem….

September 5, 2016