In The Blink of an Eye

A dear friend lost her son today to a freak accident. He is now brain dead, but his body lies in state, awaiting his final act which will leave a legacy of true love. This young man, just 36 years old, had previously indicated that he would like to be an organ donor, should the need ever arise. Unfortunately it did. Today after several tests were performed, his parents were informed that there was no perfusion to the brain and he was declared dead at 4:50 pm. This pivotal event began a timeclock and now the search is on for recipients for these precious life giving organs. Somewhere there is a mother who has been praying for an organ to become available for her child. Her prayers will be answered. One leaves in order to allow another to stay. This perfect chaos appears random, but I think otherwise. Though we cannot make sense of a life cut short, we can marvel at this show of heroism, the selfless act of one to another, the gift of life itself.
Standing at Paul's bedside today I placed my hand on his heart and I thanked him for his gift. I whispered to him that we honor his suffering and applaud his generosity. His decision will set into motion so many things. Someone who gets his heart may now have the opportunity to fall in love. A blind person may now see the sunset for the first time. A tired and weary man who has been on dialysis for years may now know robust health. There will be sorrow, and there will be rejoicing.
We cannot give Paul another 36 years to live and love and realize all of his life dreams. But how many of us can say that we have saved the lives of 6-8 people? His life is gone, and in it's place a million tiny cells burst into being and declare to the Universe itself: Hope is alive!
Pauls loving act will wipe away tears, bring happiness and hope, and leave a legacy of a man who, though he may not have ever known it, became an example to us all.
Bravo Paul. May the angels welcome you to paradise, may the martyrs greet you on your way, may you see the face of the Lord this day, Alleluia, Alleluia.

"This is the duty of our generation as we enter the twenty-first century -- solidarity with the weak, the persecuted, the lonely, the sick, and those in despair. It is expressed by the desire to give a noble and humanizing meaning to a community in which all members will define themselves not by their own identity but by that of others." Elie Wiesel

This week in my hometown a woman killed her two children, then took her own life. The details of this tragedy will come out like entrails at a vulture picnic, but they are almost not even necessary. Three people who were working and playing and talking with neighbors yesterday, are now gone.

Our American culture is so young, and so homogenized that the very thing we pride ourselves in-our independence-is also our own albatross. Most older cultures have rituals and ceremonies, there is a sense of family and community, there is a sense of belonging. I think we have lost that along the way to the uber-independence in our culture. We live in our little houses, working like dogs to pay our mortgages, and then often the people you are closest too live miles and miles away.

Would it be possible for us to find our way back to some sense of community in the midst of such a mix of culture and diversity?

I remember the day that September 11th happened, there was this immediate sense of connectedness with every single person you met. In the grocery store, at the gas station, in the workplace. We were under attack, and you had the sense that all of us were pulling together, circling the wagons against the forces that would seek to take away our very homeland.

I liked that time, just afterward. I felt a sense of connectedness with total strangers, and it felt good. We were one people and we were scared, and mad and worried. People reached out to others, and talked more.

But then the crisis abated and we went back to business as usual.

This week NPR discussed the topic of fame, and how most people want it, but then when they get it, they wish they didn't. Reminds me of the folk tale of the dancing shoes.

I think at a very basic, almost cellular level, what we all want is not fame, but just to know that we are KNOWN-that we are seen, that we have value, that our life here matters somehow.

I wonder about the woman that took her life, and her children's lives too. I wonder if she had any friendships, any connections in the community. I wonder if she passed by people everyday and said Hello, wishing that someone would connect with her, would see her. In the end it is a diagnosis of some kind of mental illness that creates this type of tragedy, but you wonder if she had confided in someone, if anything would have changed.

My life as I grow older is more concentrated, and I taste life with more attention to detail. I am pretty certain I will never be famous, but is it possible for me to make a difference in the life of others? I think that is a goal I can try to accomplish.

I want to have kindness and compassion be my compass. I hope to be present in people's lives, in good times, and in bad. I want to really SEE the people who move in and out of my life, and honor what ever they have to give, and give them all that I can.

Elie Weisel is a true example of someone who LIVES this way. His life, so full of loss and tragedy, is such a shining beacon of hope, that in the midst of life's brutality, one can find the hope to continue to reach out. His life's work is a masterpiece of love and forgiveness.

Connecting. That is what I am contemplating.

Filibuster or bust

Okay, most people who know me would say that I lean pretty far to the left. I don't apologize for that, I love being a liberal, it's a compliment. I believe that liberals are peace loving, responsible, accepting, hard working, fair minded patriots who love their country.
But here's the thing. Even though I'm thrilled that the Democrats are in charge now, I do not believe that one particular party should be able to gain Filibuster-proof control. I find that almost frightening. If the shoe were on the other foot I would be truly fearful. With that said, here we are today with Arlen Specter waltzing on over from the Republican Party to join the Dems. If only it were for the right reasons . . . but that doesn't even matter. What matters is that if Norm Coleman goes down, and Al Franken is sworn in, the Democrats will be able to drive through virtually anything without opposition.
I don't believe that our founding Fathers wanted this. A truly democratic nation is one that wants its leaders to debate, discuss and develop a plan. Not just who ever is the biggest guy gets his way.
I can see that this presents a challenge to the Democrats in Congress to use this power wisely, and not become dictators. The American people are watching and we will not be forgiving of those that abuse their privilege.
It makes me sad that there is such a polarization of the parties. I wish a strong Independent leader would emerge, then many of us might find ourselves at home. I am sick of the Limbaugh's and Hannity's sticking their feet out in the aisle like school boys, trying to trip President Obama at every turn. I'm also tired of the rhetoric spouting from Oberman, who has become a caricature of himself foaming at the mouth on past grievances.
Aren't there any reasonable, fair minded politicians who want to reach across the aisle? Can't the radio big wigs come down off the pedestals and try to forge some peace in this country for the sake of our future?
I guess it starts with us. I will be emailing my representatives today and letting them know that I expect leadership that is inclusive of others who do not agree with them. I expect Republicans to be included in decision making through vigorous debate and reasonable round table discussions.
I hope that our president will lead with less arrogance than Mr. Bush did. No one person, or one party should be "the decider".
As for the Republicans today, it's their party they can cry if they want to. You would cry too if it happened to you.

Big Brother

I always wanted a big brother, no offense to my older sister. I always wanted someone there to defend me from bullies, and look out for me on the schoolyard. Well, Big Brother is watching over me, but not in a good way.
This week we learned that our government is now using a Predator unmanned drone aircraft, on loan from the Department of Homeland Security, to survey the valley that is flooding in North Dakota. High definition videos are shot from high above the area in question, then reviewed in some cozy office at Homeland Security. This creeps me out in so many ways. When ever there is a disaster, people are vulnerable and will follow direction without question. Sending in drones to take high definition video is not in itself a threat, but what it does is inoculate us as a nation to the use of these drones. "Don't worry my little friends, the drones are our friends. This is the wave of the future. See how it's helping us?" We already have Google earth street version to pinpoint our exact location, but the technology that is emerging is so intrusive, it frightens me.
I was sitting at my computer yesterday when I received an email. It was from my car. No kidding. It emailed me, via the Onstar program, and informed me that my right front tire pressure needs attending. I was stunned. There is another example of a "helping" device, that could also be used to "track" me if needed.
Then there was the incident three weeks ago. My sister and I arrived at a friends apartment to find him disoriented and in need of an ambulance. She called 911 on her cell phone, then we both realized that we didn't have the exact address, but again, no problem. As she was talking she heard an unusual bell sound on her phone. Yep, they had tracked her down via the cell phone and were sending help straight away. Did we feel helped? Hell no, we felt extremely creeped out.
This technology is watching our every move through traffic cameras on street corners, ATM cameras, parking lot cameras-hell you can't even straighten out your pantyhose on the elevator anymore as there is some 18 year old kid watching you from the security booth!
Is there anywhere to jump off the grid anymore? I doubt it. Our government is doing a heck of a job scaring us into compliance about the amount of surveillance it is doing. I'm not sure what the solution is, but I continue to vote for LESS monitoring systems when ever possible.
Big Brother is an impostor and he is not protecting us, he is hoping we will all fall in line and fall asleep so that he can do what ever he chooses and we won't even blink an eye. Silent drones overhead-think about it.

Suffering

It seems as I grow older my peripheral vision is expanding, and what I see from every direction is suffering. Three people I know are struggling with cancer, another two are grieving the loss of children, another the loss of his marriage, another few the loss of jobs, of homes. The losses are monumental, and the courage it requires for them to keep going is enormous.

What can we do for each other, as we grow older, as we become even more familiar with these losses? Because let's not fool ourselves, with great experience and age, comes loss. We can keep our heads down, turn up the music and pretend it isn't happening. But better still I think we can link arms and walk together, heads held high with full stride.

I think life can be juicy and fun, breathtaking and heartbreaking and dangerous. I also think at times it can be boring and dull, or crushingly painful and cruel. What ever comes, we face it not alone, but in a community of family and friends. We can and must reach out to each other when we are feeling the lonliness that nips at the heels, or the fear of the unknown, or the known, when the suffering is so raw that we wonder if we can bear it another day.

I found a quote today that I love:

"I'd rather live my life as if there is a God and die to find out there isn't, than live my life as if there isn't and die to find out there is". Albert Camus

Loving matters. Caring and comforting each other when we see the need matters. Sometimes I feel so powerless to do anything to comfort some, who suffer so much, with no resolve in sight. I try to remember that what most of us need more than anything, is just for someone to be present. Someone to stay with us for a bit, and not wince at the sight of our ugly, gaping lives.

I want to grow older with vigor, and with passion but more than that, I want to grow older with deep and genuine compassion.

During this economic dark storm, we don't have the power to change the deficit, but we can look around our own little world and try to be present. That's what I am trying to do. A little candle in the darkness to find our way to each other.

And the Oscar goes to . . .

I'd like to thank the Academy for the recognition awarded me tonight. I'd also like to thank the following people for helping me to make it to this point in my life:

Sound familiar? I won't lie, I do love the Oscars. I love the gowns, and I love the people who trash the gowns. I love the camera panning out to to see reaction of the one's who lose. I love that it's live and that someone just might trip on their way up the stairs.

But back to the thanks. I'm thinking a lot lately about Karma, about life, and about teachers. I really believe that every incident that comes our way throughout our day is a teacher. Every person who cuts us off in traffic, every email that hits our inbox asking for us to do more work than we can possibly accomplish, every first date that makes us feel like a kid, and the ones that never call again-all of them are our teachers.

If we sit back and learn, we can matriculate through this period and go on to the next, but if we sass back to the teacher and resent the lesson, we are doomed to repeat the grade.

I'm trying really hard to PAY ATTENTION. To just be aware, and awake. To live consiously, not just stumbling along. I want to love with gusto every soul that comes into my path, and forgive those who hurt me along the way too. Sometimes it's like paddling upstream and other times it feels like floating along with the current.

I'd like to thank all my teachers past and present, and hope to be open to learning from those still to come.

The song of my country

Today I was lost in the middle of a big hospital. I asked a staff person to direct me to the right area and he motioned for me to follow him and he would show me the way. He was tall and lanky, very dark and shy. We walked up and down many hallways and the entire time he was singing a beautiful song, very quietly to himself. When I asked him what he was singing he seemed embarassed, as though he didn't know I could hear it. He said "Oh, it's the song of my country, that's all". I asked him what his country was and he told me he was from the Sudan. He said he missed it and would be going back.

This made me think today, what is the song of my country? I don't think it is the Star Spangled Banner, or even God Bless America, though both of these make me weep every time I hear them.

Today, on the eve of the most exciting inauguration of my lifetime, I feel the song of my country is a homogeneous blend of so many cultures. It is the song of zydeco from the bayous of Lousianna, it's the sound of smoky jazz from Chicago, it's salsa and the blues, it's hip hop and reggae and Chopin and klezmer, it's the native American flute and rock and roll and it's all of us from all walks of life. Our song is a chorus, not a solo.

There has never been a time when I felt more hope for a country that is so broken at the tender places. We are humbled, we are in need and what we need is each other. We are hungry for the partisan politics of the past to be replaced by the unity of a nation.

Barack Obama will not be a perfect president. He will let us down, make mistakes and come up short to be sure. But he is the first man in politics in a very long time who has the ability to call out of us that which has long been in slumber-hope.

My song today is "It's a New Day" by Will I Am. It speaks to my soul and it makes me happy.

I Dream A World By Langston Hughes

I dream a world where man no other man will scorn,

Where love will bless the earth and peace its paths adorn

I dream a world where all will know sweet freedom's way,

Where greed no longer saps the soul nor avarice blights our day.

A world I dream where black or white, whatever race you be,

Will share the bounties of the earth And every man is free,

Where wretchedness will hang its head and joy, like a pearl,

Attends the needs of all mankind- of such I dream, my world!

I am deeply touched by the men and women who have gone before us. These luminaries who bore our sins and dared to dream of a future that they themselves could never see. I am ever grateful to the dreamers, the poets, the long suffering grandmothers and grandfathers who, with quiet perserverance kept the faith.

Some of those wishes will come true tomorrow when the United States of America swears in Barack Obama as it's 44th president. We should bow down in thanks to the ones who cleared the way, both black and white, who marched against the water hoses and tear gas, who sang out hymns of peace while being spat upon by those with hooded robes. We have not conquered all of our demons, but it's a good start.

I feel so hopeful, so proud to be an American today. I feel the anticipation of something brand new up ahead. I know there will be mistakes, and there will be danger, but we are coming together now more than we ever have before and defining ourselves in a broader more integrated way. We will do our part, and then those behind us will do even better.

We can be proud that the day has finally come when a black man can lead this country. Yes we can. We can relax and know that torture will no longer be tolerated, yes we can. We can rest assured that in time, everyone will have affordable heathcare, yes we can. And we can know that the international community will open it's arms in collaboration, yes we can.

The call to service is one I will ponder. There is much work to do, but together we can do it. Yes we can!

This is a stick up

Bernard Madoff was arrested this week for ripping off untold numbers of investors in the amount of 50 billion dollars.

Wait now, let me repeat this: 50 BILLION dollars.

If a twenty year old with a drug habit and a hankerin for heroin holds up a liquor store for 50 bucks his ass lands in jail that VERY NIGHT. There is usually no one to pay his bond and he is not likely to have a well dressed attorney to reduce his bail terms. He gets no special treatment and can go to jail in a heartbeat.

So, if you are a white collared rich dude with an expensive attorney here is what you get for STEALING 50 BILLION dollars:

"Out on bail with a curfew, defendant must be remanded to his home between 7pm and 9 am. Passport is surrendered and defendant must wear anklet device".

Oh, wow, what a statement of the seriousness of the crime huh? What kind of a legal system do we have when someone can rob people, albeit rich people, of so much money and get some little lightweight slap on the hand?

I'm appalled, I'm just completely agog. It almost makes one want to go to law school just to level the playing field.

Okay now, I said almost.

But for real, 50 billion?

Of cigarettes and longing

It's Christmas time, and I want my mom. It's been over 18 years now, and the gut wrenching grief is long gone, but the ties that hold you to your mom never come undone, even in death. I was shopping last week, in a great mood, looking at some Christmas ribbons, when all of a sudden my mother's favorite Christmas song came on the store speakers. I instantly started sobbing in the middle of the aisle, I came completely unglued in the middle of the dollar store.

Christmas was cookie heaven at our house growing up. We didn't have money, but we had a lot of baked goods. We decorated cut out cookies so much my sister Nancy refers to that time as our "cookie sweat shop" period. We loved decorating them but there really can be too much of a good thing! After a few dozen ginger bread cookies made just so, we would just sprinkle on the glittering sparkles as fast as we could to get them done. But everyone loved my Mom's baking, and Christmas was the time when her talents really shined. Like making Hajji, everyone had to come at some point and taste my mother's baked goods.

What kind of solace is there for the deep, primal loss of your mother? What-that she's in heaven? Or that she's reached Nirvana? Or that she's in Purgatory working out her sins? Or that she's dust?

If I can take license for just a moment I would like to picture my mother in Heaven like this: She is wearing her turqoise polyester pant suit, letting her nails dry from just painting them cherry red. Her permed-up hair is sprayed up good and it has the artificial look of Clairol #5 Strawberry Blonde. She's sitting at a table with a cheap cigarette in one hand, and a beer in the other. Sitting next to her is her wild, untamed, chain-smoking, crazy ass sister Rosie who is borrowing a Vicodin and a beer from my mom and dealing out the cards for them to play KIngs in the Corner. They are in hog heaven, praising Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Halleluia and pass the ashtray! Both of them had childhood trauma's and a lifetime of addictions, but my mother had a heart of gold. I miss that heart.

That's it, that's all. Just that, although my heart is full and I am happier in my life than I have ever been, I still miss her. Always will I guess.