Remember Martin Luther King, Jr.?

Once upon a time, America had a leader with an inclusive vision for our future. He was not a President. Rather, as a simple citizen, Martin Luther King, Jr. campaigned for bringing black people into our society on an equal footing with the descendants of our founding fathers and the millions of people who immigrated here from Europe.

Despite the protections of our Constitution, the United States had found ways to keep black people down, de jure segregation primarily in the south, and de facto segregation everywhere else. When Jim Crow laws were exposed via videos of sit-ins, voter registration drives, and strategies such as the Memphis bus boycott, we could no longer deny the reality that we were not a nation with equal protection of our laws and equal opportunity for all. We were shamed into taking action to remedy the obvious injustices we saw on TV screens in living rooms across the country.

Slowly, we in the north accepted that policies such as red-lining accomplished the same work in the northern cities that Jim Crow laws did in the south. They kept black people out of our line of sight, “in their place,” so to speak. Yes, they could sit anywhere on our buses – as long as they agreed to exit into segregated neighborhoods, stay out of our unions, and not ask for things that would expose our complicity in their lower status. Slowly, very slowly, these policies began to change also as activists shifted from their work in the south and broadened their work to address issues nationwide.

It’s important to remember that King did not act alone. Rosa Parks did not spontaneously decide to remain in her seat. Black people had been meeting and talking and planning for many years to develop strategies to bring about change. King was an amazing leader, the key word being leader. His ability to articulate a positive future enabled white people to listen and work with him. But there were many other local leaders involved in planning the non-violent actions that elicited the brutal reactions that were impossible to ignore. By anticipating the reactions that exposed the true status of black Americans, these local leaders could plan legal strategies and support for those who were jailed and/or attacked for their actions.

Rosa Parks was a hero of mine for many years before I learned about all the planning that preceded her refusal to move to the back of the bus. I learned that another woman with a more checkered history was not supported by those planning Park’s moment of fame. The civil rights leaders decided they needed a woman who could not be criticized for any reason other than her decision to keep her seat in the front of the bus. You can agree or disagree with that position, but we often face the same consideration today as we continue the work for equal opportunity for all.

So much has been said in recent years about the unfinished work for equality. Are all disparities the result of racism? Some insist they are; others argue that equal outcomes cannot be achieved, that many factors contribute to disparities. Would MLK have favored equality of outcomes? I doubt it, and his name is not often used in current campaigns that seek to erase disparities. Still, I doubt that he would be silent if he were alive today. There is always work to be done. Biases are likely with us forever. We honor King on his birthday to remind us that we always need to be vigilant in order to keep our biases in check.

So: Happy Birthday, Dr. King, and thank you, thank you, thank you for your vision, your powerful words, and your work to bring that vision to reality.

December, 2024, Odds and Ends

The year is coming to an end. What are we to make of it all? 

Syria

Bahar al-Assad is in Moscow. Good that he’s gone, but will something good come to pass in Syria in his absence? Check back a year from now.

Two Presidents

It has been customary in years past for the US to have only one president at at time, but this year we have two. The inauguration is not until January 20, but Trump is already wheeling and dealing with other world leaders. Hey, it’s Trump, so no one objects. Meanwhile, there is some hope that senators will grow a little spine as they contemplate his various cabinet appointees. Some are at least familiar with the basics of our government – stuff like three branches and no king. Others, not so much. I can’t wait to see if nominees will get background checks and if the Senate holds actual confirmation hearings. 

Health Care Anger

Periodically, I get angry at our health care system. That said, I don’t support assassinations of health care executives. Still, when I see YouTube videos with doctors saying things like, “a traumatic brain injury can last a lifetime,” I think, where were these docs when we needed them? Several years ago, when a certain friend was struggling with things as he did in the first few years after his TBI, I called two regional medical centers to see if I could get an appointment for him. Their first question was, “How long since his injury?” Decades, I responded. “Oh, well we don’t admit anyone to our program more than two years after an injury.” TWO YEARS??? WFT! Yeah, I get angry.

Hibernation, Anyone?

Why can’t we just hibernate during the winter? Wake up for holidays, then go back to sleep. Especially in the gloomy northwest. Even the winter sun is a problem because it aims right at my eyes when I’m driving. Yup. Hibernation!

 Seahawks

What is one to do with a floundering football team? The Seahawks are above .500 for now, but not by much. And even the games they win are hard to watch. Fumbles, interceptions, yellow flags, honestly it’s a miracle they win any. What to do, what to do???

SCOTUS

What is one to do with the Supreme Court? Yes, our Supreme Court, i.e. SCOTUS? This past week, they listened to arguments regarding a Tennessee law prohibiting medical transitions for minors. (You can find the transcript online.) Sadly, the only justices who seemed grounded in reality were the conservative ones. The liberals (remember Justice Jackson who couldn’t really say what a woman is because she’s not a biologist?) were off in la-la land with the trans-rights activists. Sigh. I just hate it when I have to rely on conservatives to stay tethered to earth. 

Swedish Death Cleaning

We have too much stuff and are too mired in winter lethargy to deal with it. A friend recently recommended a book about Swedish death cleaning. I started it, but wandered down a path of self-recrimination for not tending to such. Actually, it’s not just winter lethargy. We have opted not to deal with the stuff during all seasons for the past several years. A certain friend thinks we should sell it online. I can’t imagine gearing up for such an activity, so yesterday I actually emailed an estate sale agent nearby. Sadly, I waited until after 2:00, their office closing time on Saturdays, so I have to wait until Tuesday for a reply. Some of our stuff is worth some amount of money, but not so much that we are counting on it for our waning years. Check back with us in a year. 

Power Outages

We survived our first power outage in our new home. We were warned about big wind storms when we moved here, so we brought the porch chairs and the garbage bins inside. Then we watched TV until it blinked out about 7:00 p.m. First night, not too bad. Next day, (short winter day, remember), chilly but survivable. Second night: chillier than the first. Second day: we headed to Seattle. We had reservations at a hotel for our anniversary weekend, and decided to go a day early. Smart! Power came back 72 hours after it blinked out. Many others suffered much longer than we did.

Spare Heat

Some of our neighbors are planning to buy generators, but I think we will skip that solution. Been there, done that. We got a generator after a few outages at our Skagit house. But the problem with a generator is that it needs fuel. Usually gasoline. Which means you need to have it on hand just in case the power goes out because when the power goes out, the gas stations shut down. How much fuel? Depends on how big your generator is and how long you run it. We just ran ours for a couple of hours in the morning and evening to keep the fridge cool and run the furnace for a bit. But we had a propane stove, propane fireplaces, and propane lanterns. The house wasn’t toasty, but it was tolerable. What I really want here is a gas fireplace. I might even get out of bed to go shopping for that!

The End

I could go on, but I think I’ll do more odds and ends in the new year. Be well, folks.

The Blizzards of My Childhood

We are spending today at home, mostly inside the house which, at this moment, is comfortably warm and cozy. The “warm and cozy” could change at any moment as we are under a high wind warning in an area which has a reputation for wind events that knock out the power at least once each winter. 

The terrain outside our windows is white. We had a bit of snow night before last. Not deep, but there’s a layer of ice under it which makes it a bit treacherous for walking. My first experiences of that little layer of ice were humbling. I grew up in Wyoming and prided myself on my ability to get around in the snow, both on foot and by car. But I soon discovered that there’s a reason Northwest drivers are chicken when it comes to driving in the snow: what looks beautiful covers that layer of ice which changes everything. Caution is, in fact, advisable here.

Blizzards are uncommon here, but they were an annual event when I was young. They were exciting (for us kids, not necessarily our parents). No school, for one. For my sister and me, it also meant that we were home with mom while dad was working. He was a railroad engineer and seemed always to be trying to get his passengers from one station to another following behind the snowplow. (My sister and I would not exist were it not for a blizzard in the ‘30s. Dad met mom in the hospital where she was his favorite nurse treating his frostbite from a blizzard misadventure.)

If we couldn’t go out to play, we invented adventures inside the house. We rearranged the furniture, draping blankets over chairs and tables to create tunnels to crawl through. We got out every single board and floor game in the house and played them all. (Tiddly Winks was my personal favorite.) We got to dine on cocoa and toast, still a go-to meal at times of despair. And we fought. Angels we were not. We cannot today figure out how mom survived it all.

Once the winds died down, we could bundle up and work our way out of the house. Often, either the front door or the back was blocked by snowdrifts. But the drifts created a unique opportunity for adventure. I remember a year when we could climb a drift all the way to the roof of our house. In ordinary blizzards, the drifts provided instant forts for snowball fights. 

We were blessed in many ways. Power outages were rare for us, even during the worst storms. Dad always survived the storms, even when the train got stuck, though more than once he had to leave the engine and walk to the nearest town to fetch milk for the tiny tots in his care. Mom might even have enjoyed the chaos we created at home. As kids, we were oblivious to the impact of the storms on the world around us. And such breaks from routine, when they end well, are a valuable part of childhood. These anomalies expand our sense of what’s possible and rev up our problem solving abilities. All good – when they end well.

How’s Your Day Going?

“How’s your day going?” So many friendly exchanges begin with this question. But today, I’d say, ask me anything else. I got up more or less on time even though my husband said up front that we were out of coffee. We had some ancient ground espresso in the freezer for our stove top espresso which is fifty miles away at our new digs right now. I figured that I would use that in our French Press. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right? 

Actually, no. Just do without the coffee until you can get out to a store or an espresso stand. That’s my advice after running this experiment. 

So we are moving. That’s great! But if I was ever in doubt about the wisdom of this move, this morning’s brief trip to the grocery store has removed that doubt. Sunday, 10:00 a.m., ought to be uneventful, right? My first stop at the store was the in-store coffee bar. As I got to the counter to order, the barista was just finishing up a sign that said, “Closed.” It seems that she was the only person who turned up for work today, and nothing was ready for customers. She was closing so she’d have time to put pastries and other food items in the display case and basically get the shop ready for customers.

Since I got there before she got the sign up, and I only wanted to buy beans that she could grind, she took my order. I reached for my phone, which has my coffee app, my wallet app, and my store card. Damn! I’d left my phone at home. Fortunately, I had my actual, physical wallet with the actual physical coffee card and another credit card. So I paid with real plastic, took my freshly ground coffee, and proceeded to look for the other items on my short list.

Croissants, check. Bananas, check. Ice cream, check. But where the heck are they hiding trash bags? I asked three people who guided me to various aisles that turned up empty. Fourth person, bless her heart, knew right where they were. So trash bags, check. 

Then, as I was making my way to the checkout counter, I saw a security guard closely following a bedraggled person with a handful of items. I’m guessing he recognized her because there are enough bedraggled people in my neighborhood that store security couldn’t possibly tail them all. In any event, she bypassed the checkout counter and headed for the door. She was told to either pay or leave her items behind, at which time she started screaming and accusing the guards of bad behavior, knocked over flowers on display thus creating a great pool of water in the entrance, and made a commotion that I’m sure you can picture. Hard to say if she was actually injured at any time in the process, but as I left the store a few minutes later, two cop cars and an aid care were at the entrance.

This is the same store, mind you, at which an assault on a employee about a year ago led her to transfer to a different location. I saw her at her new store one day and said I recognized her from my neighborhood store. She said she was still recovering from the assault there several months earlier. 

Nothing truly awful happened to me directly today, but there was one final bit of frustration: once I got home and opened a bag of coffee to make a new pot of actual French Press, the beans looked more like fine gravel than the usual somewhat coarse grind I’m used to. Good news, though. They work a lot better than the ancient espresso. So now I can chill for a few minutes with a decent cup of coffee – and then get busy packing again. 

How’s your day going?

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