STRANGE FRUIT, INDEED

Last night the jury in the Trayvon Martin case issued a verdict of "not guilty" for George Zimmerman.  This is in Florida, the same state where, in this past year, a black woman was sentenced to 20 years in prison for firing warning shots from her legally registered gun to avoid a beating from her estranged husband against whom she had a protection order (PPO).  His attacks against her are documented.  She did not kill or injure him in any way.

I don't feel, in any way, qualified to write about this travesty of justice. Instead, I have posted a few comments from Facebook friends that really hit home to me.  

"How far have we come since Emmett Till?  Since Oscar Grant?  I tried to avoid the TV coverage of the trial because it was so painful, but each glance revealed the terrible moves by the prosecution and the demagoguery of the defense, and I felt the verdict to acquit was inevitable because of incompetence, because of America's history.  Just imagine if it were a black man accosting a young white man what the verdict would be.  Strange fruit, indeed."  ~Hilton Obenzinger

"I have a 17 year old Aquarius black son who carries a 3.7 GPA and loves hoodies, Skittles and Arizona ice tea.  If you know my son, you know these facts about him.

Every single time he has left the house, for at least 7 years, I have had the speech with him about taking his hands out of his pockets in the store, unzipping his jacket, pulling his hoodie off of his head, making eye contact, but not staring... He never understood why I was so protective and why he had to be drilled so much.

Unfortunately, today he understands."  ~Tawana Petty

"Only in America can a dead black boy go on trial for his own murder."  ~Syreeta McFadden

The grief is Trayvon's family's.  The collective shame as a country is ours.

Keepin' it Real

I read something on a blog yesterday that, had I been drinking a beverage, said beverage would have come out of my nose. I said that, well…….for effect really, but the truth is I laughed hysterically, unable to speak, tears streaming down my face. My husband looked on waiting to hear what was so funny as I guffawed with helpless abandon. A blogger that I follow talked about seeing her young child off on the school bus one morning last week and overhearing another parent put her small child on the bus saying, “don’t give in to Satan.” Excuse me…I’m laughing again.

I get that it may not be a real gut buster for you. My husband, while amused, did not understand my extreme mirth. But in my world, my past, it is significant. I may have heard that a few times…Dear God, I may even have said that a few times. My two children are grown now. I don’t know if I used those exact words and I’m not asking them…. Let’s just say they knew more about Satan at a young age than anyone needs to – probably ever.

I don’t deny that there is evil in this world. But I no longer believe in a personal devil. To put it simply, I think that God and his energy is in all of us, good and bad alike. Kind of like the glue that holds everything together. We have choices and we have work to do. The evil is in our humanity – that thing that most of us, no, all of us struggle with on a pretty regular basis. We’re born our own little entity and the whole world revolves around us. We are first as children unable, and later, unwilling or to self-absorbed to look beyond our own little life paradigms. We struggle to gain control over the selfish tendencies that often dominate us. Sometimes we are successful and sometimes give in to the darker side of human nature. In some cases, the result is catastrophic. But the fight is ongoing in all of us. A lot depends on the kind of role models we have adopted or had thrust upon us and even more on our own insights, inner work, and introspection, as well as our relationship with the creator of the universe, however we view that entity.

My daughter, at the age of 7, gave away an expensive Cabbage Patch doll that she had wanted badly because she had heard that they were made by minions of the devil who could possibly speak through them. No, she did not hear this on the playground, but at church. There was actually a sermon in our church about Cabbage Patch Dolls (I never bought in to that one). But she heard it from one of the children in youth church whose mother had her burn her Cabbage Patch doll because of the brouhaha about the dolls and because the kid thought the doll had spoken to her. Oy! My daughter didn’t tell me she had dispatched the evil doll for quite awhile because she thought I might be upset about it. That little red headed doll, Alena Diane, cost $30 on sale in 1984 – a lot of money for our young family at the time. But when I did find out, it wasn't the cost that upset me. It was that my little girl had been robbed of the simple joy of receiving a doll she had wanted and loved.

But back to my main point: So, if the little kid messes up, did the devil make him do it? What I really want to say is how bad I feel for that poor little tyke getting on the bus to school to learn letters, numbers and socialization, and having to battle Satan as well during that busy day. Ugh! The worst thing Satan has done in that case is steal what should be a carefree time of childhood that is way too short to begin with.

Magic

Is there really no magic? I’ve entertained magical thinking all of my life. I didn’t realize I was still doing it until recently. When you’re little, you are taught to believe in magic. You know - Santa, the Easter bunny, tooth fairy and the like. You slowly begin to see that it isn’t quite so, which really kind of sucks. I beat up the little boy who told me there was no Santa when I was seven. I reallllly believed and besides, my mother wouldn’t lie to me! But there I was, sitting on my mom’s lap crying about Santa after my mom came clean and told me that he didn’t exist, at least not in the way I’d been led to believe. For a few years afterwards, I even tried to pretend there still was a Santa at Christmas time, but it wasn’t the same – my eyes had been opened. But you survive. It’s all kid stuff, right? Then there’s church. A whole new set of stuff to believe in that you can’t see. I have this picture of Jesus in a small glass frame that I was given at the age of 4. His eyes follow you wherever you move. I still have it. Being an only child, I spent a lot of alone time with that picture, talking to it, imagining Jesus talking back, joking around with it and taking comfort from it when I was scared or sad. He was my friend. I went to Catholic church and school, and absorbed all of those teachings. It was nice.

As Ive mentioned in prior posts, I spent 10 plus years as a Christian fundamentalist in my early 20’s and 30’s – a realm of magical thinking, most scary in the long run, and the one that may have had the most profound effect on me. I’ve heard every kind of magical thinking in that environment, partook of it myself and did not come away unscathed. When I removed myself from that environment, all hell broke loose as it were. I didn’t know what to believe or trust and eventually hung up on God for quite a while.

Life is different now. I guess my natural cynicism has resurfaced, but in a good way, I think. I’ve come to realize that our built in instincts are okay – even God given. They are put there for a reason to help us make sense of our world. I’ve realized that just believing something, no matter how much you want it to be true, doesn’t make it so. And rather than that truth being disappointing and upsetting, it is instead freeing and comforting. There doesn’t have to be an answer for everything and certainly all truth is not contained in the pages of one small book written by men. Now, for me, the creator of this universe is not some bigoted, giant, narcissistic entity, that demands all and treats us as pitiful, helpless and hapless creatures that can't make a decision for ourselves. Instead, the entity is one I trust and take comfort in, knowing that his design will not fail in the long run, no matter what it is; that I don’t have to know the whole mystery; understanding that all of the energy and life force is there inside of me for me to use for good, and is made up of and part of that creator; positive that his design is not so exclusive as to banish all who don’t lock in to one narrow perspective.

Still, I persist in my search for magic – little glimmers of fairy dust; proof that I am uniquely singled out, for, or to witness the magical whatever it may be. This past week has been a particularly tough one for me. I found myself on Friday attending a party of one, indulging briefly in light servings of self pity. I lost the dream, there is no magic - woe is me......I challenged God to show me the magic! I knew he would. I didn't have anything in particular in mind - just something magical. He did not come through. It’s true that old habits die hard and having been born and bred to expect it, I still wait for it now and then, often disappointed. And yet, that is part of the wonder of waiting for that special dispensation that may never come, or be recognized if it does. In the meantime, I try to live in the present moment which is what I make of it; and in that, there is peace, and a great measure of comfort, knowing that I don’t have to kick any ass for anyone else breaking my bubble, or lament over the disappointment of dreams that did not magically come true. I can choose to see magic in the smiles of my friends, the love of my family, and the little wonders and opportunities that come along happenstance to do good in the life of another soul. I can be grateful for the good things in my life. And, I can just be me working toward my own dreams and enjoying each moment that passes if I dare to do so. Even so, the child inside lingers on. I’ll still wish on stars and look for magic dust in the little corners of my life. But that will be my little secret.