Be careful what you believe

One of the things that people who object to any constraints on the Second Amendment like to say is that the first thing that Hitler did to gain absolute power in Germany was to take people's guns.

There is a partial truth here, which is a critical ingredient in luring people into believing an untruth.  After World War I, there was a total ban on gun ownership imposed on the German people, however; this law was never strictly enforced, and most Germans simply continued to own the weapons they had owned before the war.

In 1928, a law was passed that all weapons had to be licensed and registered, but this law too did not seek to identify weapons that were already in circulation.  Where the kernel of truth comes in is in the gun laws passed in 1938, which loosened the requirements for most Germans, but made it criminal for Jews to buy or own weapons or ammunition.  They also could not own "truncheons and stabbing weapons".  The Nazis had already begun seizing guns and ammunition from Jews.

As the Nazis marched through Europe, they seized the weapons of each conquered people.  That is pretty standard in war.

Do any of you know what the Nazis actually did seize in Germany as they started to gain more and more control and power?

They took people's radios.  The only radio that was allowed in Nazi Germany was a state issued radio that only received the state broadcast frequencies.  This happened in 1933.  This allowed the Nazis to control the narrative.  They censored books, magazines, theater and movies.  They only allowed the German people to hear what they wanted them to hear.

The increasingly pro-Nazi continuous dialogue worked.  People stopped thinking that there was any other way to live than the Nazi way.  Ordinary people became increasingly intolerant of whoever the Nazis told them to hate and fear.

Propaganda was  everywhere.  From cartoons and children's games to movies made especially to create and push forward a specific doctrine.

While many Americans are hoarding guns and ammunition for fear that the government is going to try to take them away, I see those same Americans happily giving up their right to information.

If you get all your news from only one source, you are making yourself available to be duped.  Even if you consult multiple sources, but all your sources lean right or left, you are making yourself available to be duped.

If you get all your news from social media?  Congratulations, you are totally informed by the propaganda machine.

What should you do?  Read multiple sources, including how other countries are reporting on what is happening in America.  Even if you only read English, you can read Canadian, Australian, New Zealand, South African and United Kingdom news sources easily.

Compare what you read in one source to what you read in another.  Ferret out the truth.

Fear is a well developed survival mechanism in our species, which makes fear a great way to manipulate people.  When you accept information from one source, it is always tainted.  None of us can help it.  Word choice changes how you perceive information.

Many news sources are trying to use fear to get you to side with them.  Don't fall into the trap.  Read, educate yourself, form your own opinions by using the contrasting presentations of fact.

The end of democracy doesn't happen because the government takes your guns.  It happens because you give them control of your mind.

Whataboutism and the search for your own morality

The newest trend in American behavior is a thing called "whataboutism".  "Whataboutism" is a practice whereby you never examine an activity or behavior on its own merits.  When faced with inhumane, or unjust or evil actions, you don't condemn them, you simply reply with "Well, what about this? Or what about that?"

The prevalence of this thinking and behavior is truly frightening, as I believe it allows for the emotional distancing from every situation that does not directly involve you.

Let me try to explain.   Have you ever cried at a book, or a movie, or even at a song?  Why?  Usually, we cry because we vicariously experience the emotion the song, book or movie is trying to convey.  We cry because we are open to feeling what the character feels.

When people practice "whataboutism" they never even think of the people in the situation as people, much less open themselves to think about or experience the emotions the people in the situation are experiencing.

Rather than listening and connecting to the thing that is happening in the world, they immediately go to rifling through their mental file cabinet to come up with analogies that refute the legitimacy of the problem.

I'll try a couple of examples.  "The police shot an unarmed teenager in Pittsburgh last night."  A whataboutist may respond, "Well, if black on black crime wasn't such a problem, police would have an easier job."

What?

Or, "It is inhumane to separate children from their parents just because the parents are seeking amnesty."

A whataboutist,  "What about how Obama had to have a court ruling because of unlimited detention of unaccompanied minors?"

Huh?

Or, "A trade war is not going to improve the economy, or help anyone in America get a job".

A whataboutist, "The democrats are so weak they let China steal all our jobs."

Seriously?

You will become less and less human the more you practice "whataboutism".  Trust me, I'm watching it in real time.

In order to stay human, whenever you hear something, you have to think about it.  You have to imagine how you would feel if you were the person in the event.  You have to think about the systemic ramifications of what is happening.  You have to read multiple sources, or listen to multiple different outlets with different viewpoints.  When you stop doing that, you become less of a human and more of a tool.

There is no perfect system, or political party, or person on this earth.  Everyone can be trying to manipulate you to take advantage of you.  Everyone can be trying to convince you to see things only the way they want you too.  Everyone can be trying to callous you to "the other" so that they can rob you of your decency.

The only person that can stop them is you.  Question.  Feel.  Cry. 

Examine every news story and every situation as it is.  Let things stand on their own.  Don't compare current injustices to anything except an ethical or moral standard.  If you don't have one handy, use the golden rule,  "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you".

Then decide what you think or feel about an issue.  You may still not care about children being ripped from their parents, or black teenagers being murdered by police for not reason.  You may still not care that the current administration is shredding our relationships with our allies, and supporting dictatorships.

But at least you will be informed in your callousness.   My regular readers know I believe in God.  For those that don't, but believe in karma or balance, or the power of good in the universe; we all come to the same point.

Your informed callousness will not go unnoticed.  As Theodore Parker said, and Martin Luther King, Jr. quoted "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice."

Those who choose "whataboutism", who chose informed callousness, will wind up on the wrong side of that moral arc, and there will be no one there to save them.

Barabbas

My regular readers know I am Catholic.  I'm not the most devout, and I don't always agree with the Church's teachings, but I think I will always identify as Catholic.

For Catholics, the most important day of the year is Easter.  This is the day that created our faith tradition.  This is the day that we believe Jesus Christ rose from the dead, bringing us eternal salvation.

But it is always bigger than Easter Sunday.  Lent is an important part of preparing for Easter, and Palm Sunday and the Triduum (Mass of the Lord's Supper, Good Friday of the Lord's Passion, and Mass of the Resurrection of the Lord) are some of the most profound religious experiences in the church year.

One of the things that Catholics do each year is listen to and participate in the reading of the Passion of Lord.  In most liturgical years, at least two of the four gospels are presented.  The gospels are read by multiple readers and the congregation has parts that they have to recite.

These readings have always been very difficult for me.  There is a spot in the Passion where Pontius Pilate offers the crowd the release of a prisoner.  The crowd can choose Jesus, or the criminal, Barabbas.  The crowd chooses Barabbas.  As a member of the congregation, I am asked to reply "We want Barabbas!"  or simply "Barabbas!".  Every time I have to do this it hurts my heart.  I have never, and will never understand why that crowd wanted to crucify an innocent man and free a criminal.

We attended Stations of the Cross every Friday during Lent while I was in grammar school.  The prayer during one of the Stations (I don't remember which one) was this "Please help me to remember that whenever I support hatred, or bigotry or anger, I crucify Jesus all over again".

I have many friends who identify as Catholic, and as Christian.  And right now, in real life they are screaming "Barabbas!" except really, they are screaming, "Trump!".

They are finding every excuse possible to defend the separation of families coming to America seeking asylum. They do not care about facts, or about right and wrong, or about humanity or morality or justice.  Trump says tearing these families apart is necessary, so they believe it.

I don't know what God they pray to.  But the God in the Old Testament, and Jesus in the New Testament continually implore us to welcome the stranger, care for the needy, and house the refugee.

The same people who scream we are a Christian nation have completely turned their backs on the teachings of Christ.  They hide behind excuses for their barbaric indifference to the suffering of others.

I have been sickened by watching this.  I have tried my entire life to not judge people, but I am failing miserably on this one.  God is watching.  Anyone who is indifferent or supportive of the policy of separating these families will have to answer to God. 

Shame on anyone and everyone who supports this horrifying practice.  You have sided with Pilate.  You have asked for Barabbas.  You are crucifying Jesus all over again.

If you believe in a just and merciful God, pray for mercy.  Your soul is withering with your embracing of true evil.

Harriet

Today is my mother's 91st birthday.

Most women have a complicated relationship with their mother, and I am no exception.  The older I have gotten, the more simplified my relationship with my mother has gotten, until I've grown to the place I am today, and I simply love her.

Mom was never easy.  She had high standards for us, and she could be stingy with praise.  I remember thinking she was mean many times when I was growing up, and thinking of my dad as the good guy.  Now I realize Mom allowed Daddy to be the good guy.  One parent has to be the disciplinarian, and Mom took on that role.  Mom was the cop, and Daddy was the social worker.  It takes strength, courage and love to choose the harder role in parenting children, and Mom just did it because it was the right thing for her and Daddy, and the right thing for us kids.

Mom suffered with anxiety for apparently all of her life.  After her stroke, and as her ordinary and Alzheimer's dementia advanced, the anxiety became impossible to hide.  On one level, I always knew it was there, but on most levels, it was easy to just pass it off as moodiness or neediness.  I feel terrible that I didn't recognize the root anxiety and support her more.

One of the symptoms of that anxiety that I only recently recognized relates to swimming.  We had a swimming pool in the backyard from the time I was about five or six.  First a three foot pool, and then a four foot pool.  We had to wear life jackets in the pool unless Daddy was home, because Mom didn't know how to swim.  The yard was fenced, but the pool had a second fence inside the yard, with a padlock, and the key was up high in the cabinet.  Having that pool in the yard heightened Mom's anxiety, but she found ways to cope so that we could have a pool.

My dad was her anchor, he was the only one who could calm her down when she got really upset.  Just having him near created an ease and a calm in Mom.  The years that Mom took care of Dad as his Alzheimer's advanced appeared to be the least anxious of her life.  Her total focus in those years became giving Dad the best quality of life that she possibly could.

Mom showed up throughout my life.  She was a troop leader for Juniorettes, the littlest Junior Catholic Daughters (kind of like Girl Scouts for Catholics).  She was a chaperone when we were in Drum and Bugle Corps.  She cooked endless spaghetti dinners for fundraisers, and Chinese food for silent auctions.  She and Daddy hosted two birthday parties a year, a December party for my brother and older sister, and a May party for me and my younger sister.  And the epic New Year's Eve and Saint Patrick's Day parties.

Mom hosted a bridal shower for all my cousin's and their future wives.  She made the fanciest food!  Finger foods that were so exotic to my child self.  Rolled sandwiches on colorful bread, deviled eggs, cream cheese and walnuts on date/nut bread.  It was an elegant feast to me.

Mom managed her anxiety through putting others first.  When I look back at her life, it appears that when she was totally focused on other's and their comfort, it kept her anxiety in check.  What incredible focus and strength she had!

As she advances into dementia and there is less and less of Mom there to visit, parts of her remain.  She still smiles at people.  She still loves Irish music.  She still holds your hand.

I can grouse with the best of them on the things my parents, especially my mother did wrong while I was growing up.

But I choose this instead.  I choose to remember a woman who loved deeply and whole heartedly.  A woman who was flawed, but kept on trying to be her best self.  A woman who fought demons we couldn't see, and kept them at bay by focusing on others.

Happy Birthday, Mommy.  I hope you know how very much you are loved, and how many lives are better because you were part of them.

Boundaries

Sometimes I know what I want to write about, but I don't know where to start.  This is one of those times.

I belong to a Facebook group that is for people who all belonged to an organization that is now gone.  Mostly, the posts are pictures from the past, or notices that someone has been recognized for their achievements in the organization, or notices that a former member has died.

There are also memories shared, and for the most part, they are pleasant memories.

This week, a woman shared an unpleasant memory.  Her parents had been volunteers with the organization.  The organization was for people up to the age of 21.  At an event, one of the members of the organization hit her dad in the face with a pie.

Two things struck me.  One, that a thoughtless act almost forty years ago still bothers her enough to write about it.  The second was more subtle, and will take a longer explanation.

The person who hit the dad with the pie owned up that it had been him.  He said that while he was working with the volunteer he had told him that when he least expected it, there would be a pie in the face.  There is no indication that the volunteer told the culprit that he would be very upset if that happened.

The volunteer got very angry when it happened, chased the culprit, and never accepted his apology.  Their relationship was never repaired.

This could all have been avoided by the volunteer defining his boundaries.  When the culprit joked about hitting the volunteer in the face with a pie, the volunteer could have said, "If you do that, I'll be angry, hurt and embarrassed, and it will permanently damage our relationship."  Once that was said, then if the culprit decided to still do it, he would have known the consequences.  From his words explaining his actions, (and from knowing him for most of my life)  he never would have done it if he had realized the harm it would cause.

Nobody knows where your boundaries are if you don't tell them.  Everyone's boundaries are in a different place, and vary widely from one social group to another.  People who you know well and love often can get away with far more than casual acquaintances.

Maybe setting boundaries seems so natural to me because my dad was a master.  I remember one time that a friend of my brother's asked my dad if he could borrow some money.  My dad asked the guy if he thought of my dad as a friend.  The answer was, "Sure, Mr. Marion, I think of you as my friend."  To which my dad replied, "If you want to be my friend, don't ever ask me to borrow money".

That was one of my dad's boundaries.  It is important to note that I don't have to agree that your boundaries are appropriate, and you don't have to agree that my boundaries are appropriate.  But once anyone communicates their boundaries, and the consequences for not respecting those boundaries, the right thing to do is to respect the boundary.   Knowing if you don't what it will cost you.

I think it is so sad that someone is carrying the weight of a hurtful memory for so many years when it seems like such an avoidable situation.

No matter where you are in life, think about how much good you can do by establishing boundaries for behaviors or actions that will irreparably damage a relationship.  While it might be uncomfortable, you truly do have the power to prevent a lifetime of hurt.

Pushing the Limit

I had an experience yesterday that I want to share with you all.

My husband and I had gone out to eat dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.  I love the place, but they are not what you would call kid friendly.  The menu is upscale, and predominantly seafood. 

Now I know some kids love oysters and grilled fish and salmon tacos, but not most kids.

When we were eating our meal a party of five came in.  It was obviously grandparents, parents, and one little girl that looked to be somewhere in the six to eight year old range.  The little girl was crying.  Not loud obnoxious crying, but tears streaking down her face, and hiccups, and scrubbing her eyes with her fists to try to stop.

It broke my heart.  The mommy was very stern, and the daddy angry, and my heart hurt for the little girl.  She had that look that kids get when they have played hard all day and then get scrubbed to go out.  Her hair was wet, stylish, but wet.  I pictured a long day in the pool perhaps.

That poor baby was too tired for an out to dinner event at a place without a kid's menu.  She was doing her best, but appeared overwhelmed.

I'm not trying to parent shame or grandparent shame, but I wish we all did better at recognizing when our kids have had enough stimulation and need a quiet evening at home.

And that got me to thinking, it is not just kids that can be at the 'enough' point.

At one point in our marriage, my husband and I got into a pattern of going out to eat on Friday nights.  Everything was good for a while, but as our jobs got bigger and more demanding, the Friday night dinners inevitably ended in an argument.

We talked about it, and realized we were both out of energy, and patience, and understanding after a demanding work week.  We started staying home on Friday nights, and stopped arguing.

I remember when I was little, and my Dad would play with us kids.  My Mom would always say, "George, you are getting them too excited and someone is going to end up crying,"  and my Dad would laugh and keep playing, and then one of us would get too excited and end up crying.  And then there were hugs and kisses, and usually some time on Daddy's lap while he sang to you until you were happy again.  I wish that all parents could hug and sing their kids better when over stimulated.

Emotions are difficult things.  The more years of practice you have, the more likely it is you will have better emotional control, but it never gets easy.  And the more demands on your energy, the harder it is to control your emotions.

I wish that the world was more accepting of people simply saying, "I'm all tapped out, I can't go anymore." 

I wish we were all more comfortable saying, "I need some quiet time.  I have no more capacity for socialization".

I wish all children were held and comforted when they cry, and taught that it is okay to say , "I need some quiet time".

The only way we will ever live in a kinder, gentler world is if we all learn to be kinder and gentler with each other, starting with ourselves.

Did I just run out of things to say?

I am kind of embarrassed by how much my blog postings have decreased.  In 2015, the year I started this blog, I posted 126 entries.  In 2016, I posted 125.  In 2017, 54, and 7 so far in 2018.

I also feel guilty about my lack of posts.  The world needs more positivity and light.  I haven't been really good at finding that light.  The reason I feel guilty is that I haven't forced myself to look for the light either.

It is America's Got Talent season again.  I love that show.  And I love the stories of courage and hope it brings along with trained trick-performing cats, and magicians, and acrobats, and dancers, and singers.  The variety of talent is awesome, and the stories can be heartwarming and uplifting.

I noticed something very hopeful as I watched last night's episode.  There were two comedians whose comedy was of the mean variety.  They were not laughed at, and didn't make it through.

That made me very happy.  Not that those people were disappointed, but that the people in the audience were not entertained by meanness, and the panel of judges weren't either.

Maybe, just maybe we are reaching a tipping point.  Maybe, just maybe, people like me who have been silent are finally ready to start talking again about kindness, and inclusion and love.

We all fall into patterns, and let's face it, humans tend to go with the flow, with the path of least resistance.  When the dialogue turns mean, it doesn't go there all at once. There is a raised eyebrow, a snarky comment, a disparaging remark. And that becomes the new normal.  So the ratio of nice to not nice keeps inching to a terrible place.  We have reached a terrible place.

I don't know how people who I always thought were nice people can support people who are mean.  I heard a commentator on the radio yesterday opine that as long as people are doing well financially, they don't care about the character or actions of the entities that they think have created their favorable economic condition.  He is probably right - and that is just so sad.

I honestly can say I would rather be poor and hungry than be mean, or to support meanness.  I have been poor and hungry, and it didn't make me mean, in fact, I shared the scraps I had with anyone who needed them. 

I like the fact that I am financially comfortable, but it doesn't mean as much to me as trying to be a good person does.

And I truly believe if we all try to be good, and throw our support behind people who try to be good, that it makes the world a better place.

I need to find a way to address the meanness I see online without being mean myself.  I need to find a way to ask a question, or make a comment that redirects, knowing full well I may be redirecting the anger and meanness in my direction.

So no, I didn't run out of things to say.  I just felt crushed by the reality of day to day life in the United States of America.  I was tongue tied by the base level of much of the discourse I see and hear.  I was muted by the voices in my head that said why bother.

I have to bother.  We need all the voices for kindness, love and inclusion we can find.  So what if I sound like I'm repeating myself.

That has never stopped the mean people from repeating themselves.  I'm not going to let it stop me anymore either.