WordSisters

Category: world peace

  • Choosing to Believe

    A few weeks ago, I visited Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona memorial. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My father was in the Navy during WWII at Normandy and later in the Pacific. I wanted to honor his service and the legacy of my parents’ generation who sacrificed and died to preserve our democracy.

    I stared into the water at the rusting sunken ship, which is a gravesite for more than 900 sailors. I wondered if they were young like Dad who signed up at 21, or if they had any idea what they were getting into when they joined the Navy. Pearl Harbor was a large naval base, but in 1941, it probably seemed like they were in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing important. Until it was bombed.

    USS Arizona Memorial

    In his later years, Dad said matter-of-factly, “War is hell.” He didn’t favor patriotic parades or ever make a big deal out of his service. Much as he hated war, he was also profoundly committed to preserving democracy. 

    Standing on deck of the memorial with the breeze rippling the water and lifting my hair, I didn’t feel a deep connection to Dad. Instead I felt frustrated, angry, and deeply sad that 85 years later, our country’s democracy is crumbling. I want to apologize to all the people who sacrificed and died so we wouldn’t see a day when the Current Occupant would engage us in a senseless war, trash our relationships with our international allies, and run roughshod over citizens’ constitutionally protected rights.

    I am worried about our country’s future. We certainly weren’t perfect 10 years ago or 20 years ago, but at least democracy was viable and mostly functioning then.

    More recently, I heard Yo-Yo Ma perform with the Minnesota Symphony Orchestra, and the music was as exceptional and moving as I expected. When he came out to play an encore, he alluded to Minnesota’s ordeal with ICE and our impressive community spirit. The audience clapped long and loud, grateful to be seen and acknowledged. Ma described the piece by Pablo Casals he intended to play. He said the music gets so quiet it almost disappears and there is fragility in the moment, but the music grows and fragility becomes strength.

    I am choosing to believe that as fragile as our democracy is right now, too many of us believe in it to let it disappear, so it will grow strong again.

  • Whistles Still Blowing

    As we file federal taxes, think about how our leaders chose to spend our money. Not on highways or better schools or improved health, but on 3,000 armed and masked government agents sent into multi-cultural communities with near complete freedom to hunt for people who might be in the U.S. illegally. Wearing expensive military equipment. No warrants needed. No explanation of how their lists are assembled. Federal domestic abuse perpetrated on men, women and children, particularly if they do not have white skin. And extended to anyone blowing the whistle on the ICE action or filming the action or merely annoying the masked strangers.

    Comfort is needed for people hiding in the occupied cities of Minnesota, for people brave enough to care for their neighbors’ needs, for all both here and abroad who have watched the loss of life and the trampling of basic human rights. For those who sing along with Bruce Springsteen’s “Streets of Minneapolis” and fear their own communities’ futures.  Trauma exists far beyond the I-494-694 freeways.

    Family and friends have fled the cities looking for safety and security and the ability to work. Some people just disappeared. They may have returned to other countries. They might be in a DHS facility. Or they could be living in your state. Thousands of individuals continue to feed, provide transportation, pay the rent of those in hiding.  ICE may stalk caregivers’ homes as well. And our schools, teachers, staff, parents who patrol each morning and afternoon.

    For those willing to walk in subzero weather and throw their bodies in the way of harm to protect a stranger or neighbor, how will we keep fighting for the United States we love? There isn’t any end date for what is happening. Did anyone think we would be facing these questions a year ago? 

    The answers are large, unknown. 

    One day at a time. One struggle at a time. 

    Whistles are still blowing on the streets of Minneapolis.

  • Holiday Presents

    In response to queries about what I might like as a holiday or upcoming birthday present, I am wondering if I have hit “that age” or developed a stronger sense of being part of the universe?

    With the evil spreading in our country that has stripped families apart or made the simple costs of food, shelter and other necessities too expensive for others, how can I want anything? If I need to think about creating a list for days, I think I know the answer

    First, my deepest wishes: food, safe shelter, healthcare and education to be accessible in our country. People with compassion, wisdom, morals, the ability to use real language when talking, willingness to listen, commitment to collaborative decisions to lead government at all levels, in all nations. Narcissistic strong men be removed from positions of influence or power.

    On the personal level: A giant gift would be securing my family’s futures so that those of us aging don’t burden the younger, the middle generation continue to live the modestly comfortable lives they have achieved, the children reach maturity in a country that has found its way back to peace and prosperity while honoring the Statue of Liberty‘s invitation. It would be grand to find a small house for our last decades and free our family home for a family.

    But if my stumbling over the gift question is about approaching “that age” and actual physical items must be named, my gift list is simple: warm socks, two books, a box of English Toffee, framed photos, individual time with each family member in the coming year, donations made to food shelves.  

    Add new pajamas and a couple of white long sleeve polo shirts, this might have been my father’s list twenty years ago when he was the age I am now. And he is a good reminder of what holiday presents should include. He was someone who gave to others at holidays: food boxes we packed, a canned ham, cookies we baked, wrapped toys, sweaters and pajamas for others’ children, cash in a card, and because it was Wisconsin sometimes a bottle of brandy. 

    Time to get busy.