Tangible Respect

Kneeling during the National Anthem in the NFL has morphed from a protest of racial injustice into a politicized and angry debate over the flag being a symbol of respect for our nation’s veterans. I am saddened that the social message has gotten lost, yet at the same time thankful for this opportunity to promote honest and tangible respect for our veterans.

 Let me start by saying that I stand for the playing of the National Anthem wherever I am when I hear it played. I am an avid sports fan and watch most of the games on television. When the song begins, I stand with my hand over my heart. I also accept that those who choose to exercise their Constitutional right by kneeling are not necessarily disrespecting veterans. In fact, many veterans also take a knee. I applaud them for again showing us what true courage looks like. I respect them and I show my respect for them, not by standing alone in my living room with my hand over my heart, but by trying to make a positive difference in their lives. 

One of every fourteen people in this country is a veteran. If you are that one, thank you. Next time you’re driving through the city and see a homeless person and mumble, “get a job,” or “I’m not giving him money for drugs,” remember, if you see fourteen homeless people, it is likely that one is a veteran. Sometimes the worst wounds can’t be seen. In fact, right here in Phoenix there is a place called the Mana House (https://www.manahouseaz.org/) where fifty homeless veterans reside. I show my respect by making donations once or twice a month to “my guys.” If you are interested in showing actual respect for these great men, please visit the website or message me and I will be happy to collect your donation. I recommend making the trip yourself; however, as interacting with these men is unforgettable. 

There are so many other organizations supporting veterans that if you go online you can find a group to help either nationally or locally. The Wounded Warrior Project is an excellent group as is the Pat Tillman Foundation. If you go to these sites with the expectation of reading more about the Anthem debate, you will be disappointed as these organizations exist to assist veterans with their lives. They know why they served and don’t want to engage in political debate. In fact, Pat Tillman’s widow echoed that sentiment (http://www.abc15.com/sports/sports-blogs-local/pat-tillman-s-widow-reacts-to-national-anthem-protests-president-trump-s-tweet).

It seems that as of late most everyone has an opinion on what it means to respect our veterans. In my opinion, it means to serve them as they served us. 

We Really Are Family

The Most Dysfunctional Family of All

I have labeled myself a Globalist. I don’t even know if that’s a real thing, but I like what it entails. A Globalist is pretty self-explanatory in that it is one who celebrates, studies, and respects the diversity of life and physical properties of the earth. For without the earth, there is no life. There are an abundance of legends as to how life came to exist on earth and how and when humans appeared. The belief one holds as to the origin of life, however; either falls into the category of science or spirituality/religion….or if you’re like me, a little of both. My ignorance of the religious creation myths throughout the world limits me to speak only of Western religious myths. Western religions state that God/Allah created everything in a week. Man was created, then took a woman out of his ribs and they started making babies. As they were the only two people on earth, every offspring from ALL future generations MUST share the DNA of those first two people.

 Scientists present concrete proof that evolution occurred. I myself have participated in the Human Genome Project, which traced my ancestry over more than 150,000 years back to East Africa. The same is true of all who have participated. So, like religious beliefs, evolutionary science traces human life back to one source. In both cases, we all share DNA; we are all related. With all that being said, the bottom line is, regardless of which origin story you accept, the end result is the same…..we are all part of one family. 

My immediate family is weird. Dysfunctional. Challenging. Crazy! Seriously, I will throw down the “weird family” gauntlet and take on all challengers. There is deep and irreparable division between all possible combinations of siblings, parents, nieces, etc. Most of the vitriol stems from the fact that those who have held hate in their hearts for so long, refuse to communicate. The hate grows over time and spreads to those other family members who listen only to the opinion of the hater. Being armed with biased, and more often than not, false information, the hate among the followers grows and spreads, like cancer…it kills. If then, this takes place in one small family, what happens when it occurs to the entire human family? I think we’re seeing those results more clearly than ever.

We all started from the same place, wherever you believe that place to be, and migration got us to where we are now. Clans that stayed close to the equator have the darkest skin and those who travelled furthest from the equator have the lightest skin. All of the other shades depend on where the clan went and for how long. People who live in higher elevations, have a greater amount of hemoglobin in their blood; hemoglobin oxygenates the blood. At higher elevations there is less oxygen therefore more hemoglobin is needed to supply the human body. I can’t look at someone and determine her hemoglobin level. I can look at someone and determine her skin color. I can see what is on the outside but not what is happening inside. The only way to do that (aside from lab work) is to engage in conversation. In other words, rather than judge someone based on what I can see, I can try to understand someone based on what I learn from that person.

  I don’t like everyone and I can say with absolute certainty that an enormous number of people don’t like me. That’s ok. My reason for disliking a person is based on the actions of that person. Even more than that, perhaps. It may even be that person’s intentions. Sometimes we don’t ask “why” often enough. And we only need to ask “why” when that person is doing something that affects another. I don’t ask “why” when someone goes to a church that is not mine. Or when someone lives a heterosexual lifestyle. Or when someone speaks a different language, looks different than me, or learns differently. I do wonder “why” when someone is cruel, selfish, or hateful to another being; human or otherwise. 

You see, this globalist does in fact believe we are all related and when one suffers that means a family member is suffering. And the worst pain endured is that inflicted by another family member. We are all on this earth for a relatively short time and must learn to be at peace with our global neighbors. The idea of an all loving planet is a naïve fantasy. I know I don’t like everyone, but I also don’t hate anyone. Like my immediate siblings, however; I can love someone I don’t like. I can bask in the diversity of this wonderful planet while at the same time practice introspection to determine how I can improve myself and subsequently the fortunes of my brothers and sisters of the world. Peace.

Poetry in the Park

I went to the park today. I went today of all days; June 20 in Phoenix when the forecast predicted a 120 degree day. I only stayed for about 20 minutes and sweat through my t-shirt. I talked to my new friend, James. He’s so interesting. We talked about books, one of my favorite subjects. He is fun and intelligent. He is a poet. He is an addict. He is homeless. James and the eight other people and the dog in the small park are homeless. They needed a little extra help today, so I contributed ever so slightly.

I bought several cases of water and a few bunches of bananas and hit the road to downtown Phoenix this morning. On my way to the park, I was fortunate enough to meet several gentle souls that needed a bite to eat and some cool water. When I got out of my car at the park, not a soul stirred. I surveyed my surroundings, I saw dirty and exhausted bodies sleeping on the grass under the small trees. I wasn’t afraid; neither were they. We’re the same; just people on a miserably hot day. I spent the next ten minutes distributing water and bananas; the man with the dog came first. He had nothing to eat or drink yet his dog’s bowl was full of water, placed next to her full bowl of dog food. Her name is Sally the Dog.

Then I met James. He was boisterous and outgoing. He pointed to a young man who was lying on the pavement under an awning. As I approached, the man reached out his hand for the water I was carrying. I handed it to him but he was too weak to open the bottle. I opened it and lifted his head to give him a sip. He gulped the whole bottle. When he was finished with his third bottle, he tried to sit up against a tree but just didn’t have the strength. He wasn’t too tired to thank me.

Before I left, I stopped to have a smoke with James. We talked for maybe ten minutes. He had been reading a newspaper. Before I knew it, we were talking about our favorite authors. We share a love of Oscar Wilde. We hugged and said goodbye, not knowing if we’ll ever see each other again.

Walking back to my car, I was starting to feel the pain of wearing some old flip-flops for the first time in years. I was sweating, thirsty, and didn’t feel very well. So was James.

I drove home in my air-conditioned car. Tonight I stopped at a sub shop to get my favorite sandwich. I soaked my blistered feet and changed my shoes. Now, I’m in my cool home with a full belly and my feet up. I may walk to the kitchen for a snack and another cold drink while I watch t.v. My dogs are sleeping, one on my bed, and one on hers. Sally doesn’t have a bed, neither does James.

It’s after eight o’clock at night and still 115 degrees. If you’re inside and have enough water, think about James and his friends. If you’re not too embarrassed to look someone in the eye when she offers you a cold drink, think about James. If your dog is safe tonight, think about Sally. If you’re fortunate enough to have the strength to sit upright, think about James. If you’re privileged enough to have something tangible, anything to call your own, think of James. When you’re done thinking, help.

The Blue Collar Woman

Going to Work in Trump's America

I have a friend who works in a place that is the epitome of the “Good Ol’ Boys Club.” I worked there once; was it yesterday or a lifetime ago? My friend, let’s call her Chica Sullivan, is an aware, intelligent, hard-working fireball. She works in a male dominated, prejudicial, blue collar environment with the most diverse group of people I have ever seen in one workplace. Although men and women, young and old, gay and straight people from all over the globe work and coexist together, the management and, more importantly, the breakrooms are dominated by white, hetero, Christian, male ideals and attitudes. That is not to say that all members of that group are as intolerable as this group, but the ones who were prone to ignorant and misogynistic behavior have been given license to exacerbate their cowardly and testosterone influenced behavior.

Chica has worked in this environment for many years. So did I. She has my most heartfelt empathy as she is not the type of person who can “get over it” when she hears her coworkers advocating bigotry and chauvinism. Why, you ask? Because she is a logical human being who cares about her fellow man. Oh she’s no saint, who among us is? I would never, ever recommend pissing off this woman. Like me, she becomes irate when a group of white guys, (and yes, they are most vocal when in a group, as are all little boys) excuses and even applauds the racist rants of our new POTUS. I know exactly who these boys are. One used to look forward to December 7 as he saw it as “Hate a Jap” day. Another, probably who thinks that the protests are about losing an election, is likely the most vocal supporter of the “You lost, get over it” movement. Oh yeah, he’s the one who still waves the Confederate flag. Another, who enjoys texting dirty jokes to the women, has blamed President Obama for everything that has happened on earth in the past eight years. It’s raining? “Thanks, Obama.” He is also the kind of guy that has to constantly reiterate how much he respects women and tells you how many black friends he has in order to dissuade us of the more clever sect from believing he is a racist. Ps, you haven’t fooled anyone.

Chica works with and endures the ceaseless whining of these little boys but she also works with men and women. One man, perhaps the most respected in the place and also an immigrant, was wise enough to prefer that his crew was made up entirely of women. He told me women worked harder and smarter. It has been my experience in that particular place of work that he is correct.

Then we have the plain old bullies. The ones who, when among their similarly immature and ignorant peers, make fun of one’s religious beliefs, personal appearance, and believe it or not, their intellect. Yes, these boys (and some little girls) love to use the word “retard.” If someone doesn’t believe in the same manner as they do, he is a retard. If something is not popular or stylish, it is gay. Yes, these are supposed adults who say these things. And Chica, who has the intellect and courage to speak openly and honestly, fights them in groups. When I worked there, I used to tell myself, often one hundred times or more each day, that “Arguing with a fool only proves that there are two.” (Mark Twain) It is hard. The mental agony a sane, intelligent, non-prejudiced adult faces in that place is far more demanding than any physical requirement needed. And Chica can do the physical. While these boys complain about their work load (not all of them), Chica performed a very physically demanding job while carrying a healthy baby. And I mean her own child, not like when she figuratively carries the baby boys with whom she works.

Now, there are many, many good men, real men who work with Chica. They come from all backgrounds and various levels of education and somehow are all able to comprehend that people are people. Some of the biggest and strongest boys are the laziest, whiniest, most unintelligent, insecure little babies I have ever known. They love to gossip and hold the belief that the rules do not apply to them. And since the election of their new Grand Wizard, their sense of entitlement, which was present since birth, has shot through the roof.

Chica, I can’t begin to tell you the level of respect I have for you in standing strong and being brave. I want you to know a few things: 1) You are not alone in your frustration; 2) These are culturally biased boys with whom you are dealing; 3) Somewhere in their emotional and intellectual development they were stunted and therefore remain extremely insecure and are afraid of change; 4) Insecure people (and Fascists) constantly seek out the inferior other so as to distract themselves and others from their shortcomings. Most importantly please remember this; gorillas in the zoo go insane because they are too intelligent for their environment. Keep up the fight, I got your back. Peace.

Wannsee and Trump: The Eerie Coincidence of January 20

How Will History Treat This Day in 2092?

January 20 is now and will in the future a pivotal day marked by historians. In 2017, this date marks the inauguration of Donald Trump as the President of the United States. As he puts his small hand on the Bible (perhaps causing a fire to erupt) I will be philosophizing about an event that, coincidentally, took places seventy-five years prior; the Wannsee Conference.

In the Berlin suburb of Wannsee, on January 20, 1942, Reinhard Heydrich presided over a conference of Nazi leaders to solidify their plans to deal with the “Jewish Question.” Rounding up and murdering Jews, gypsies, political enemies, and any others who were not deemed worthy of life under the Third Reich had gone on for many years; therefore, the Wannsee meeting was not the event that determined the fate of European Jews. Rather, it was the convergence of men who adopted plans to expedite the liquidation process of the Final Solution.

Heydrich, so-called by the Slavic People as the “Butcher of Prague,” chaired the meeting that decreed, “Approximately 11 million Jews will be involved in the final solution of the European Jewish question.”  Briefly, the plan implemented to answer the Jewish Question was as follows:

“Under proper guidance, in the course of the final solution the Jews are to be allocated for appropriate labor in the East. Able-bodied Jews, separated according to sex, will be taken in large work columns to these areas for work on roads, in the course of which action doubtless a large portion will be eliminated by natural causes. The possible final remnant will, since it will undoubtedly consist of the most resistant portion, have to be treated accordingly, because it is the product of natural selection and would, if released, act as a the seed of a new Jewish revival (see the experience of history.)”[1]

Determining who was a Jew fell to the application of the Nuremburg Laws. If you’ve listened to Donald Trump discuss his theory on genetics, you’re already a step ahead in understanding these laws. You see, Nazi’s didn’t care about the religious aspect of being Jewish, they were concerned with genetic Jews; genetic Jews are Semites and Semites are desert people of Middle Eastern origin, thus Arabic peoples are also Semites and face anti-Semitism. That phrase, however, which arose in 19^th century Germany as a way to describe discrimination against secular Jews, is considered to denote anti-Jewish racism. But let’s look at it in a literal sense; Jews and Arabs are both Semites; therefore, a hatred toward either group can logically be considered anti-Semitism. Is this eerie coincidence of January 20 starting to make more sense?

Seventy-five years to the day after the most heinous crimes against humanity of the 20^th century, arguably of all time, were solidified, Donald Trump, who is in all likelihood the most anti-Semitic P(e)O(t u) S in recent memory, will swear to God and country to Protect and Defend the Constitution of the United States of America. The irony of this is not lost on me nor should it be on you. I am a historian and since the minute Donald opened his mouth in the primaries, I have been frightened. A weary nation recovering from financial hardship, unemployment, and ongoing war was searching for a charismatic leader who promised us everything we wanted. Well, as long as you are a heterosexual, white, Christian, male. Government institutions had seemingly failed us and we were being overrun by those damn foreigners. We needed room to spread out and live (Hitler called this Lebensraum), we needed to get rid of the damned Socialists, stop the queers and their warped agenda, lock up our political enemies, keep women barefoot and pregnant, and silence those no-good, smart-ass intellectuals. It worked for Hitler….and Mussolini. 

The Nazi Party was legally elected into office, perhaps that is the one area in which Trump and the Nazis differ. Once people’s lives started to improve financial under the new regime, people closed their eyes to the atrocities that were occurring right under their very noses. We can’t do this. As human beings we must not allow this to happen.

So, whether you watch, attend, or protest the inauguration ceremony, remember that on the very same day in 1942, wheels were also in motion for the Final Solution. Think of one of the millions of people who were tortured and murdered simply because of their ethnicity. Whatever you do on the 20^th as far as the inauguration is concerned, don’t ignore the significance of the day or the irony of the symbolism. You never know who will be next.

---

[1] http://holocaust.umd.umich.edu/news/uploads/WanseeProtocols.pdf