This Land Is Your Land, This Land Is My Land

Once I finally got out of bed yesterday I had a lovely afternoon.  I tend to sleep a great deal on Saturday, my work week leaves me somewhat drained.  I finally arose, put on my flannel pj's, made a pot of coffee, and chose some music from iTunes.

It was a beautiful gray November afternoon.  The leaves are still there but all on the ground now leaving bare maple trunks for as far as the eye can see.  I selected Harry Chapin.  A few of his songs always crack me open and make me look inside.  Damn if he didn't have me quietly weeping at least once.

I thought about blogging yesterday but decided to wait.  Now having been bombarded by images on  Facebook, I suppose I am choosing to blog about a different set of Veterans.  They may not have put on a uniform, but they have fought for the cause of freedom and justice just as hard as any soldier.  Their war has never ended.

I believe I can say this as I am also a garden variety veteran having served in the Navy when I was but a pup.  It is not my intention to take anything away from the men and women who have served honorably in our military, but, frankly, between Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, Fourth of July, and a any other day we can stretch to include a hearty "Support Our Troops" battle cry, soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines get a lot of attention in our War Culture.

As I sat down to blog about the powerful skills of Harry Chapin among others, I began to envision a different kind of "veteran."  The CDs I have include snippets of Harry talking to his audiences and/or conducting interviews.  He was big into fighting world hunger and many of the audio snippets are of him talking about hunger and poverty.

Harry mentions Pete Seeger as one of his heroes - that's him at the top of the blog.  I suppose that got me thinking about other artists who have used their voices to fight for peace and justice. Of course, some would argue that these individuals were down right un-American - claim they lacked true patriotism.

I am an Episcopalian (via Roman Catholicism).  If I were to ask you, What is the Church?  How would you answer?  Would you say, it's the buildings - the parish churches, the Basilicas, the Cathedrals?  Would you say it is the Liturgy - the rituals, the vestments, the incense, the hymns?  Would you argue that the Church is the clergy - the Pope, the Archbishops, the Bishops, the Priests?  I believe the church is the people.  All those other things merely support the Church - the People of God.

In a similar way, I believe that our country is the people.  Our country isn't the buildings and memorials.  Our country isn't the rituals and pledges and jingoistic songs.  Our country isn't the politicians or they offices they hold.  Our Country is US.  Therefore, those individuals who have fought the State, challenged the government, stood up to the Corporations...all in the name of fighting for justice for the people are true patriots.  They are the veterans of our on going war against poverty and injustice.

So on this Veterans Day I choose to remember:  Rosa Parks, Dorothy Day, Caesar Chavez, Upton Sinclair, Howard Zinn, Russ Feingold, Noam Chomsky, Malcolm X, Joan Chittister, Helen Prejean, and many, many others who wore the uniforms of Woman's Suffrage, Labor, the Habit of the Church, the humble garments of the poor.  Please feel free to add your names to this list in the comments.  Peace!

To Dream The Impossible Dream

I am continuing to try and get back into a blogging groove here.  So I apologize for the facile nature of some of these posts. I must just write...

I am a hoarder of books.  A significant portion of my mom's posts on Facebook are of homes stuffed with books and her comment that her son's house is like this...I'm flattered...I think.

I can own a book for many, many years and then pull it off the shelf at the right moment.  For example, earlier this year I read a book by Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination.

Actually, the story behind this book begins with a recommendation made my June Butler at her blog Wounded Bird.  I ordered the book and it sat on one of my many piled tables for a number of months.

Manuel Padilla our missioner made one of his frequent visits to our congregation and told us about a Walter Brueggemann DVD series they were doing at the church in Crystal Falls.  It was rather clear that this six part series must be based on that book I had waiting to be read at home.  I asked Manuel if I might borrow the DVD when they were finished.  Once I had the DVD at hand I also proceeded to read the book.

In an early chapter of the book, Walter references some titles that catch my eye.  In particular, Imagining Argentina by Lawrence Thornton.  He says, "Cavanaugh reflects on the force of liturgic imagination by an appeal to the novel of Lawrence Thornton, Imagining Argentina.  In the novel, the key character, Carlos Rueda, is visited with 'a peculiar miraculous gift,' the capacity to create futures by acts of anticipatory imagination."

Essentially, Carlos dreams alternative realities to the horrors of the dirty war and these dreams come true.  He dreams that those who the government have disappeared are alive and so they are.  More on this in a bit.

So, although I haven't read Imagining Argentina yet, I did pick it up a few weeks back and read the first chapter, scanned the back cover and then looked at other titles by this author.  One title in particular stood out, Under the Gypsy Moon.  As I have said, I have a bit of a book obsession.  Many years ago on one of my splurges, I had purchased a number of hard cover fiction titles from the book store where I was working that had caught my eye.

One of those books has sat unread on my shelves.  Some of the authors I have selected over the years turned out to be "one hit wonders" - well, not even a "hit" necessarily.  This one title in particular I had looked at and almost gave away on a few occasions.  Yes, it was Under the Gypsy Moon, First Edition.  I love when things like that happen.

This past weekend I took down another unread book from my shelves, Susan Wise Bauer's The Well-Educated Mind:  A Guide to the Classical Education You Never Had. I began to read the first few chapters and decided that the time was right to follow her program.  Of course, the fact that she mentions Anita Brookner and that I had just had a Brookner book in hand the night before (yes, unread)...gave me the little wink of harmonious "coincidence" that I needed.

And so I have begun a more structured reading of Don Quixote which includes journaling and taking notes.  She also recommends finding a reading partner.  Jim Livingstone is a retired English professor from Northern Michigan University and a member of my very tiny church congregation.  I called him up to see if he was interested only to discover that just this past weekend he was thinking it was time for him to reread, you guessed it, Don Quixote. You may say these are all just bits of coincidence.  I, however, choose to see them as little signals of being on the right path.

So I purchased some pens and journals and sat down to read Don Quixote.  In 2003, Edith Grossman published a newly translated version that was well received.  On a number of occasions I had considered buying the paperback of this edition.  My attempts at curbing my addiction, however, had convinced me to postpone that purchase.  Of course, I was simply delighted when I came across a pristine First Edition at my local bookstore for $9.00!

I am only a few chapters in and already I am wondering about the role of imagination in changing the world...think back to Imagining Argentina.  In my notes I jotted down something said by Carlos Fuentes and quoted on the dust jacket, "Don Quixote is the first modern novel, perhaps the most eternal novel ever written and certainly the fountainhead of European and American fiction:  here we have Gogol and Dostoevsky, Dickens and Nabokov, Borges and Bellow, Stern and Diderot in their genetic nakedness, once more taking to the road with the gentleman and the squire, believing that the world is what we read and discovering that the world reads us."

This idea...that we can alter the world with our imaginings--that we CAN change things on the eve of the 2012 Presidential Election--gives me hope.  Hope to dream the impossible dream.

Peace.

Do You Recognize Her?

This is Malala Yousufzai, the fourteen-year-old girl who was shot in Pakistan on her way to school because she was attending school.  She was defying what the religious extremists had declared as proper in the eyes of God.

I was commenting on Facebook today.  A longtime friend from high school who is a partnered lesbian posted a current meme pleading with her friends and families that if they love her they would not consider voting for Republicans.  It links to a Huffington Post article entitled The Big Lie: I Love My Gay Friends, But I'm Voting For Romney Anyway.

My comment on the thread was, "Been slowly cutting ties with alleged friends that turn out to be Republican..."  The next comment was by Ed, someone who I am presuming to be Republican.  He responded, "Unbelievable that such thinking in the last post could exist. Words just can't describe that level of mouth-breathing, degenerate mentality."  

I only stated that I am no longer considering Republicans to be "friends." (Excuse me while I pause to wipe the fog off my lap top screen from my degenerate mouth-breathing.)  If perhaps you agree with Mr. Ed that my comment was that unbelievable over the top that he is left speechless or if you are Mr. Ed himself who I intend to invite over here to have a read, then perhaps the rest of this post will explain myself.

Let's go back to the image of Malala.  Her desire for equality, her challenge to the theocratic status quo, was deemed so threatening that they attempted to assassinate her as an example to any other uppity women taking the American message of equality to heart.  You may wonder what that has to do with me?

Back in 1989 I was living in Florida attempting to find gainful employment.  For Halloween that year, the friend with whom I was staying and I drove down to Key West for the long weekend.  Two points here for background information.  (1)  Halloween is THE gay high holy day (well, at least for the boys), (2)  Key West is one of a few points on the map that is decidedly PINK (think San Francisco, Provincetown, Greenwich Village, West Hollywood...).

I was dressing up in this rather cheesy leather drag outfit...black pageboy wig, motorcycle cap, short black shorts, black nylons and garter belt, and HEELS.  I had gotten separated from my friends, either to make a trip to a rest room or some such thing and was walking back to be with them during the big Halloween Parade.  I was walking past this young man and his girlfriend when he gets in my face and points his finger up close and with an unbelievable level of hate dripping in his voice he informs me that I deserve to be shot.

Thankfully on this crowded street he didn't feel capable of carrying out his threat.  Imagine the embarrassment if they had to have laid me out in the morgue in THAT outfit.  I'm sorry but the only way I can still emotionally deal with that level of hatred is through black humor.

Earlier this year a North Carolina pastor preached that gays and lesbians should be rounded up and put into a camp until we die off.  The video of his sermon went viral.  There is a profound level of hate out there.  Hatred of gays and lesbians, hatred of transgendered folk, hatred of Muslims, hatred of undocumented Mexicans, hatred of African-Americans, especially the guy in the White House.

"Lock and load" and other quaint little tid bits of gun rhetoric are regularly used by the Right.  Lest we forget that infamous map with the gun sites over the politicians to be targeted, one being Democrat Gabby Giffords... Thanks be to God that she is alive today and can serve as a reminder to those who hate that we will not be silenced.

This past month was the anniversary of Matthew Shephard's death.  I could pull up the information on the physician who was murdered because he performed abortions.  The examples of right wing inspired violence goes on and on.

For me though it will always go back to that otherwise unremarkable young man who believed in his anger, disgust, and hatred that I deserved to die because I was gay.

Mr. Ed (the shocked man who feels I have no right to choose my friends based on politics) thinks that the gay thing is just another "issue" and one can't make a decision based on a single issue.  I'm sorry, Ed, but this is more than one issue.  This is part of platform that would grant increasing power to what can only be called The American Taliban.

Many people out there want to believe that Mr. Romney is really just a nice guy who's a bit misguided.  Well, that misguided, would-be President, chose as his running mate a politician who wishes to impose his conservative Roman Catholic beliefs on the rest of us.  The runner up in that God Awful beauty contest known as the Republican Primaries is non other than former Senator Rick Santorum (you can Google his name if you can't remember him, go on, you really should...).  He too is ready to impose socially conservative Roman Catholic ideology on us all.

It has been declared improper to bring up the National Socialist Party from history.  We are not allowed to see any comparisons between the rise to power of the Nazis and what is occurring in American politics today.  All I will say is that a significant number of otherwise good natured Germans repeatedly handed over power to one Adolph Hitler as the man who stood for a powerful Germany, who would bring the right kind of change so desperately needed, and who brought along some rather extreme social ideas as well.

No, I am not comparing Mitt Romney to Hitler.  He doesn't have nearly enough charisma.  He is simply a very spoiled, exceedingly rich, man who thinks it would be cool to be president  (another son with "daddy" issues).  However, there are some very frightening people in our country today who are waiting for the right individual so they can put on their brown shirts and start cleaning up this country.  These people are the "base" of Romney's support and they are armed and dangerous.

And so I am drawing a line in the sand for people who I deem to be my friends.  I cannot respect anyone who would pretend the hate isn''t there and vote Republican.  Mitt Romney has shown over and over that he is beholden to this extreme, tea bag right wing.  The man who kenneled his dog on the roof of his car would throw gays and lesbians under the bus if it meant he kept his hold on power.

If that isn't enough to convince you, then perhaps we should talk about what this means to women and girls.  If the Republicans take control of the Federal Government, how long before an American Malala is attacked on her way to school for being too uppity?  Peace.

Day of the Dead

Perhaps I should have titled this post Dia de los Muertos so it would sound less like a horror movie.  Halloween (All Hallow's Eve), All Saints Day, Day of the Dead, All Souls Day...it's a special trio of days - a healthy mix of pagan and Christian - this year included the added treat of the Hunter's Moon just before.

I hope you're not expecting anything profound.  I am determined to resurrect the blog and forced myself to sit down this evening without anything in particular to say.

That's not completely true.  The rather nasty combination of Mother Nature and politics has given us much to write about, ad nauseum. However, I truly believe that vast majority of us have all made up our minds regarding the coming elections.  If you know me, you know my politics.  In most cases I believe I know yours.  I have been disappointed to learn about some dear friends of mine - their persuasions politically speaking leave me rather baffled.

One political party has very vocal members who are actively working to keep me and my kind second class citizens - one politician going so far as to suggest that folks like me should be rounded up and placed into camps until we die off.  This vocal minority scares me.  Therefore, when I learn that friends and family support this party, that they are willingly supporting a party that has a significant number of members who hate me for nothing more than falling in love with other guys...I am saddened.

Well, back to the day at hand... I posted last about the family gathering.  This was my dad's family.  I felt the presence of my grandparents - both long deceased.  There has been some unfortunate disagreements that have left a major rift between members of this branch of the family.  I don't want to go in specifics so if that doesn't seem a strong enough description for some, my apologies.  It was the first time that almost all of us were gathered and the grievances were set aside out of respect for the occasion.  I am certain that this pleased my grandparents who were there in spirit. Both sets of my grandparents put a very strong emphasis on family.  Perhaps we can build on that brief truce and begin mending fences.  I'll keep hoping and praying.

I was fortunate to know two of my great grandmothers briefly as a child.  These were my mom's two grandma's.  My mom tells the story of visiting one of them as she was dying in hospital.  She commented to my mom who was twenty-eight at the time on how fast life flew by.  Now my mom is approaching that same age as her dying grandmother.  I am almost as old as my oldest grandparent on the day I was born.  It really does fly by.

Perhaps why I like this triad of days.  It is set aside to remember those who have gone before us - family and friends.  I've only just really grasped that most of my grandparents' generation is gone.  My grandmother and her sister both hang on in their nineties.  My great aunt just lost her husband this past week.  I believe that one of their sisters-in-law is also still alive.  On my dad's side, I believe they are all gone now, except perhaps my grandfather's sister-in-law.  These were the "old" people of my youth at family gatherings and they are almost all gone.  I remember them all on this day.

Peace.