taking a knee

I usually don’t comment about divisive political things. I never have liked confrontation and have almost always been the one to back down during one. I have tended to keep my head down and my opinions to myself.  Oh, I could be outspoken about certain things, but they were mostly generic and didn’t have much of a cost associated in with siding with it.  Well, then along came two strong, independent, outspoken women into my life.  My daughters. They began pointing things out to me. Things that were wrong.  Things that were disrespectful to women. Things that were unfair to people of color. Things that have been the status quo for so long, you just don’t even think that much about them anymore.  At first, I would balk and try to say “well that was just the time, then” or “it’s just a movie”  But as time went on, it really started to bother me.  Watching old movies or TV shows with their depiction of minorities and women…it was brutal!  Not funny or entertaining.  But they were just movies.  Not a big deal to give up or make a big stink about. 
Roll forward to the woman’s march last year.  I was shocked at some of the things that I saw posted about it.  How awful women were treating other women.  So I said something.  Just a small Facebook post with a link to a very well written article.  I got some very nice feedback and a little backlash, but not too bad.  I think a lot of friends just didn’t comment.  And that’s okay.

Now we move into this year.  I am now the grandmother to three beautiful granddaughters.  So now I am being looked at by more women. And Donald Trump is elected President.  I was blindsided, as I think a lot of people were.  How could we as a civilized society put someone who has such disdain for women,  in control of the country?  But again, I kept my head down.  This issue would divide my family if I started getting outspoken about it.  There are members of my family who are sure that he is the best thing for our country.  Only time will tell with that, although the first 8 months have been disappointing in some ways and downright scary in others.

And then Colin Kaepernick took a knee.  I didn’t really pay attention at first.  But as time wore on and the more I read and talked to people, it started feeling like this was going to be an instance of needing to speak up.  I read a couple of interesting articles recently, and it brought more of the controversy into perspective.

In an article in the NY Times, a reporter spoke to fans at different games around the country this past Sunday.  Here are some of the remarks;

“Football is such an escape, no one should be politicizing it.  Why is the president commenting on the N.F.L.? Doesn’t he have bigger things to think about?”  “This is unfair to the fans. I didn’t come here to deal with this.”

“If you want to protest, go somewhere else. I think if they did it in a different platform, more people would listen.”

One fan said she did not like the protests. “It’s a football game,” she said. “They’re here to play the game. Maybe after they retire they can go into politics like a lot of them do.”  Sports is meant to be a departure.”

My question would be, where or when exactly would it be convenient for you to have them protest? These kinds of comments fall into the same category as those who protest when an actor will use the stage at an award ceremony to speak up about something that they are concerned about.  “You’re not paid to give me your opinion, just act and do your job and keep your opinions to yourself”
“No one cares what some liberal actor in Hollywood thinks."  Well the last time I checked, those actors were American citizens, and so are those football players.
And here’s the thing, freedom of speech is for everyone in this country.  Not just those who share the same opinion. Not just those who work blue collar jobs.  Not just those who vote for a specific party.  Everyone.  And it you want the benefit of the freedoms granted to you in our constitution, then you have to realize that they are there for every other citizen of this country.
But there were other opinions in that article as well;

“Kneeling was a respectful act, done quietly and not interfering with anyone else’s rights.”

“They’re protesting because people are dying,” said Jesse Melendez, 29, of Dix Hills, N.Y. “People don’t get mad when people are shot or killed, but they’re getting mad because a football player is kneeling. The double standard is crazy.”

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s why I’m in the military, to give him the right to express himself any way he wants to, short of yelling ‘fire!’ in a crowded theater,”

“Kneeling as a protest is unobtrusive, nonviolent, it’s a silent protest. Silent but visual.”

Jay Kemp, a former Marine who was with his family at a fan fest near the Charlotte stadium, said he personally would not take a knee during the national anthem but said he fought for the right of anyone else to do so. “I find it hard to swallow that the president would attack professional athletes for their freedom of speech, and a freedom that I spent 21 years protecting,” Mr. Kemp said. “They could be exercising their freedom of speech to promote hate or promote something else. But they’re doing it in a nonviolent fashion and they’re exercising their right.” Besides, he said, kneeling is not about disrespecting the country.

“It’s a protest against police brutality and racism,” he said. And it has inspired him to teach his son, who is 7, to stand up for what he believes is right.

Eric Reid, teammate of Colin Kaepernick spoke on why he chose to kneel with his teammate.

“We spoke at length about many of the issues that face our community, including systemic oppression against people of color, police brutality and the criminal justice system. We also discussed how we could use our platform, provided to us by being professional athletes in the N.F.L., to speak for those who are voiceless.”

“After hours of careful consideration, and even a visit from Nate Boyer, a retired Green Beret and former N.F.L. player, we came to the conclusion that we should kneel, rather than sit, the next day during the anthem as a peaceful protest. We chose to kneel because it’s a respectful gesture. I remember thinking our posture was like a flag flown at half-mast to mark a tragedy.”

“It baffles me that our protest is still being misconstrued as disrespectful to the country, flag and military personnel. We chose it because it’s exactly the opposite. It has always been my understanding that the brave men and women who fought and died for our country did so to ensure that we could live in a fair and free society, which includes the right to speak out in protest. It should go without saying that I love my country and I’m proud to be an American. But, to quote James Baldwin, ‘exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.’”

He finished the article by saying that he wants to be a man who is remembered for standing up for what was right, even though it was not the popular or easy choice.  He quoted Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., saying “A time comes when silence is betrayal.”

I have 5 strong women in my family, watching me.  Waiting to see if I will be silent. I want to be remembered for standing up for what is right, even though it may not be popular or easy.

I know that some people will not be happy with my stance on this issue.  That's okay.  I love them anyway.  My hope would be that in continuing the conversation, we can find more common ground and maybe a way through the divisiveness that is becoming so pervasive in our country.  I may lose some friends on Facebook, but I hope that I will have made the women in my life proud. 

I am invisible.  I know what you are thinking. You're thinking I meant to say invincible. But I didn't.

I have known that I am invisible for a long time now. I am invisible when I am by myself and when I am with someone else.  Let me clarify.  I have wonderful friends, who when I am around them I am NOT invisible.  I am included in conversations and listened to when I talk about something.  I have even had times when people have seemed to hang on my every word.  It's wonderful!

I am more specifically talking about when I am out in public.  I have walked through very public spaces; stores, concerts, streets, churches. People walk past and most of the time don't even look at me.  I have stood at Home Depot trying to load 4 x 8 sheets of drywall onto my cart and have had employees walk right by me. I have had people step in front of me when I've been in line at the grocery store or at a venue.  No excuse me, no I'm so sorry. Nothing.  The latest happened at a function I went to with a couple of co-workers.  There were about 600 people there. It was crowded and loud.  I "sorry-ed" and "excuse me-d" my way around the place.  We would be stopped occasionally by someone who knew one of the women I was with.  They'd gush over her and make small talk. Look past me to the other woman we were with and remark about how beautiful her top was and then go on their way!  One man, standing in front of me in a line for the bar, literally turned around and shouted in my face to his girlfriend who was behind me.  I could see his eye's slowly focus on my face, a look of mild confusion on his. Then he moved towards me and sideways to see her. His action was a non-touching way of moving me off to the side.  I was nobody.  He was irked that I was in the way.  Was in his space.  It was rude and offensive.  It was also unnerving.  I was so utterly unimportant.  Someone at church, someone I know, walked past the pew I was sitting in and sit down in front of me.  When I touched his shoulder to say he, he turned around and said "oh, Tracey, I didn't even see you there"  : (

When I am out with certain people in my life, we have no trouble getting attention. Waiters, staff at stores, strangers even.  They stop and help and talk.  But it's to the people I am with, not with me.  Is it because they have big, bold personalities where I tend to be quieter, more reserved?  Is it because they are tall and slim and I tend to be shorter and, lets face it , fatter?  Or am I just that ordinary that I'm not worth the time.

I am okay with this most of the time. Like I said, it's been something I've dealt with for a long time. May be it's my super power. Truth be told I would rather have had the ability to fly, but this could be helpful in certain situations. 

What it does do is make me wonder about other people. Specifically people I have over looked in my travels.  I know we get busy and we have a lot of things that run through our heads all day long.  But I know how nice it is when someone acknowledges my presence, even if it's just for a few seconds in a grocery line.

Something for me to work on.
What I don't need to work on is my invincibility! That is a done deal!

10 Years

Ten years ago I had my last chemo treatment.  Ten years.  It's gone by in a blink.  I only realized it after seeing a post by a friends son on Facebook. He was remarking that 10 years ago he got married. I was at that wedding.  I had my last chemo on Thursday and then Saturday was in the church watching them say their vows.  I wore a scarf on my head, as I didn't have a wig.  It slipped around all night and made me feel more self conscious than if I had just gone with the bald look.  I tried doing fake eyelashes, since mine were gone, but the left one fell off just as she was coming down the aisle, so I pulled the right one off too.  It's not that I felt ugly or ashamed of being bald or eyelash less.  I just didn't want to take anything away from their special day.  

The really amazing thing is that all throughout my course of treatment, time crawled along.  There was never a day that went by that didn't involve some kind of medicine or appointment or talk about cancer.  And if I hadn't seen that post, I wouldn't have even thought about the fact that 10 years ago I was being hooked up to what was basically poison, in the hopes that it would kill any cancer cells that might have been left after surgery.  Oh yeah, and then the radiation to kill what the chemo didn't. I would never have believed that that fact wouldn't be forefront in my mind on a daily basis.  And yet, it wasn't.  Life has become full of so many other things.  Sadness, for sure.  Far too many losses.  But so many wonderful gains as well.  It is a remarkable thing, the resiliency of the human body and mind.  I am grateful for that. I am grateful that I am still here, living and breathing and moving forward.  I am grateful that I am able to experience being a grandparent.  It brings me a joy I never knew existed.  I am grateful to have my children nearby.  I am grateful for many wonderful, loving friends and family.  I am grateful for the man who is by my side now and has been there for close to 35 years.

And I am grateful for seeing the post marking the 10th anniversary of  Jon and Leslie Cook.  Two wonderful people who's special day marks an anniversary for me as well.  Here's to us and to the next 10 years!

Time Out Tuesdays

 My mother used to say my father was incredibly shy when they first met.  She would be mingling with everyone at a party and he'd prefer to be sitting in the corner by himself.  Then one day, at a party, he kicked all the throw rugs at the hosts' house down the stairs, pretended to pull a goldfish out of a bowl and eat it (it was really a carrot) and the rest is history.  He was social.  That's how I know him.

During my childhood, my father always seemed at ease talking to anyone.  He could talk construction equipment (his line of work), he could talk mechanics, stereos, sailing, home decor, current events, you name it, he could speak to it.  My parents made a great pair that way.  Always at ease in any social situation and always the center of attention.  But as I realize it now, it was always on their terms. 

For instance, if someone, god forbid, stopped by our house uninvited, my mother would literally lock herself in her bedroom until they were gone.  She'd tell us to tell whoever it was that she wasn't home.  She would not meet anyone unless she was prepared to do so.   

   

My father was better about that but as we get farther from the date of my mothers death, I see him reverting to his old self.  He can still do a party, but he spends less and less time attending.  He pulls away to spend time by himself.  I think I can relate to that.  As much as I’d like to be in social situations and can handle it for certain periods of time,  I do love the time that I get to be alone.  Not even because it affords me that ability to do anything special.  I just get to be.  

Beginning this year I have reduced my work schedule to four days a week instead of five.  I just felt like I wasn't getting anything done and that extra day off during the week would afford me that ability.

What I have found instead is that I spend a lot of that time doing nothing. Or at least nothing productive.  I had great plans of catching up with friends or family, cleaning the house, exercising. But for the most part I haven't.  I feel badly, like I am wasting time.  There are all those quotes about making the most of every day.  Carpe diem and all that.  But I just can't bring myself to go there right now.  Instead, I am living the "take time to stop and smell the roses" one.  I think that is what my body and my head need right now.  A time out.  I know that it won't be forever.  And I am trying not to feel guilty for the luxury of having it.  So I am going to enjoy it for now. 

Time out Tuesdays. Who's in?

Christmas and other oddities

Someone posted something on facebook the other day that said the older I get the more the things on my Christmas list are things that can't be bought.  Time with family, good health, a granddaughter.  But I realize that I have a lot of things on my list that I can't have either.  Too many family members have gone.  Those big, harried family dinners with people yelling over each other and stealing meatballs out of the sauce are over. Being young and carefree, a thing of the past.

I find myself longing for those crazy times.  I wish I could go back and pay more attention to what was going on.  Talk to more people and actually listen to what was going on, instead of always being in the kitchen or setting a table. If I knew they were going to be gone so soon, we would have eaten off paper plates and skipped the china all together!  No amount of moist turkey or unlumpy gravy is worth that amount of time taken away from the gathering.  Away from the connectedness of family and friends. Because as you find out, always too late, once it's gone it's gone.

So I am vowing to try and be more connected this Christmas.  To spend less time worrying about the food and more time finding out about how my son's life is going.  And what is new with my son in law. Sharing family stories with my girls.  And along with my husband,  glorying in my granddaughters first Christmas.
Wish me luck!

Patience is a virtue.

So.  We are coming to the final days of my daughters pregnancy.  It has been a good one, from what I have been told. It's hard to not be in the same state as she is experiencing all these changes.  But we are all working to get them home, so that is for another post.

As we count down the final days, I find myself more and more impatient.  With everything. It's like nothing will be right until this baby is here.  People driving around me on the way to work are more annoying.  The songs on the radio are pissing me off.  Clients at work are beyond frustrating.  I can't concentrate.  I can't think more than a few minutes ahead of time.  And I'm only the grandmother!  What is my daughter feeling.  It's funny because I was there three times.  And yet, I really don't remember that clearly how I was feeling at that time.  I think it's because once it's over, any frustration or pain or impatience, it's all forgotten.  You have that new life in your arms and you are suddenly thrust into a whole new chapter in your lives.  You are now busy with midnight feedings and diaper changes and laundry (who knew something so small could produce so much laundry!).  Life picks up speed at a rate you really can't comprehend.  Everything is marked by a milestone.  First smile, first word, first step.  Then, God willing, second child.  More smiles, words and steps.  It keeps you racing forward until you wake up one day and find out the last one is moving out.  A whole new chapter.

It's all good.  They are all things that everyone should experience.  The love and the heartache.  It would just be nice to be able to hit a pause button every once in a while.  To be able to take a breathe and really see what's going on around you.  To really be able to take it all in, before it's gone and the next thing has come along.

I realize that as I say this, I am wishing for the baby to be here now.  To race forward to that moment when she comes into the world and opens her eyes.  Ah impatience.  Be careful for what you wish for, it'll be here and gone before you know it!

Bubbe

So, I'm going to be a Grandmother!
A few years ago, I would have been horrified at the thought.   My mother certainly was.  She refused to be called Grandma or Nana.  We finally settled on Marnie, a familiar version of her name Marilyn.  Deadly glares would be visited upon anyone who uttered the "G" word.  It was upsetting at first.  I took it like she had something against my children.  I gradually realized that it was part of a deeper issue that my mother had with regard to her age and self image.  It was sad, because she was a beautiful and talented woman, although I don't think she ever saw herself that way.  As she grew older she did relax a little and I did finally her her identify herself as a grandmother before she died.

I on the other hand had a feeling that my children were never going to leave the house.  So the thought of having another body in the house was slightly overwhelming.  But, as they all do, my children have moved on and I am now ready to have someone to dote on.

So now the big question.  What will the little being call me?  There are certain names that are absolutely out.  Granny, Grammie, Gammie, Gamma.  No.  I don't think of myself as a Nana.  I do really like Grandmummy, but I have been told that it's too stuffy.  Mama G sounds like I should be riding a Harley.  Oma and Nonni are the wrong ethnicity.  Someone suggested Tata, but I think that that sounds more like a stripper name.

Then I remembered Bubbe.  Yiddish, yes, which I am not.  But it is such a great name.  When I hear it I think of warmth and comfort and for some odd reason, food.  All good things for a grandparent to have and to provide, right? I used to think that I would want to be a "cool" grandparent.  But the closer it gets to becoming a reality, I really only want to do one thing.  Get my arms around that baby and hold them close.  And then to get my arms around my daughter and hold her closer and thank her for allowing me the privilege of becoming a Bubbe (or a Grandmummy, that one is not totally off the table yet!)