That seedling was the only one that sprouted from that tray. I found myself looking at that one seedling and marveling at it and the fact that it made it while the others didn’t. The simple decision I had to make was clear. Focus on the one seedling that made it or the others that didn’t. It hit me that life is like this, even parts of this pandemic are like this. That ‘ole half full/half empty dilemma.
Standing outside, taking a break from some planting, my neighbor and I were talking about the the state of affairs we are all living through. Our families, the issues involved in the public health crisis we are living through, and the those who have taken the different “sides” during this crisis as we watch it become increasingly political.
We wondered why this pandemic has become so divisive instead of being used as an opportunity to bring us together. We both realized that we were very confused over this because it makes no sense at all. But then we both agreed that this time we are living in goes against all that makes sense. We agreed that usually when horrible things happen people come together, form community and help each other. While in our local communities many have done just that (think health care workers, essential workers, mask makers), nationwide there is a huge divide that is getting wider and wider. My son compared it to baseball teams. The Reds/No Masks and the Blues/Masks. And that’s what it feels like. Why? Why is this happening?
We agreed that it boils down to leadership or lack of. Moral, strong leadership is important during “normal” times but is critically important during a crisis. We are witnessing the dire lack of leadership from both parties right now. So we wondered, what is a concerned citizen, a scared citizen, a vulnerable citizen to do?
I shared with my neighbor that I had spoken with two friends. Both of them strong, intelligent women who have been through a lot. Both of them were visibly at the end of their rope. Scared, frustrated, and feeling incredibly powerless. I thought about these women who I admire so much and then thought about the Facebook posts I’ve seen by a local state senator who, I feel, is inflaming his constituents with his less than helpful posts. Posts that lay the blame of what is happening on the Stay at Home orders put out by our governor. We are witnessing this across the country and we both find it absolutely baffling and horrifying. I found myself wishing my senator could hear these women because they are sharing experiences that I think are common and ones that he doesn’t appear to be hearing or listening to. So again I ask, “Why?” Why are their voices not being heard by such groups? Why this blue vs red mentality even when we are living through a public health crisis not seen before in our lifetime? Why?
Many of us are growing gardens this year. For many, it’s something that’s done every year. For many others, it’s a new thing to do. The pandemic has us thinking about our food and where it comes from. It has given us time to be outside. These are two very good things. It is the first year in a long time that I am actually enjoying the garden the way a garden should be enjoyed. Being home, with little else pulling at my time, I am able to slow down and be at one with my gardens. Not having to quickly plant things because of the time restrictions due to having a full time job is not being lost on me. It leads me to question the demands of our work life. They are obviously inhumane and need to be looked at closely and hopefully this pandemic will help us and our leaders see the needs for change. Hopefully they will start with health care for everyone.
For 3 years I have been calling our senators and representatives weekly. Yes, I am incredibly embarrassed to even admit that, because by admitting that I am sharing my lack of citizenship for the previous years. Anyway, each week that I call I have a specific request. Vote for this bill or that bill. Go to the border. Etc…etc… But the past few weeks I find I’m so overwhelmed that I call and admit that I’m not quite sure why I’m calling because I can’t pick just one thing to focus on. There are so many. So I find myself asking what the senator or representative is doing to address the testing shortages, the PPE being taken by the government, removing trump, health care for everyone. And they tell me. I listen and they tell me what their office is working on. I have found that I’ve learned a lot about things I didn’t even know were in the works and I’ve listened while they admit that they are overwhelmed too. So one piece of advice is to call your reps. Tell them how you are feeling during this crisis. Then ask them what they are doing about it and what their long term vision is for our society once we are on the other side of this.
Then when you are done, turn closer to home. Check in with your family members. Make sure they are ok and if they aren’t, find out if/how you can help. Reach out to your neighbors and local organizations. Find local small businesses to support. Help local reps who you support as they run for office and work to unseat those who are using this pandemic to further divide us. But first, take care of yourself. We are not worth anything to anyone if we aren’t OK. This may be the hardest thing for some of us to do. I include myself in that. Living life in a fog is a fairly new experience for me. I’m assuming I’m not alone in this. The literature tells us it is normal (during these anything but normal times). That it’s even OK, to go with it. To accept it. So let’s start there. Just take it a day at a time, or maybe an hour at a time and accept whatever we are feeling and doing. This is especially important if you have children at home. Give your family permission to not do all that “needs” to be done, including schooling. What we are living through is school! Use this to learn about local government, who is running, and who your family may want to help and support. Learn about what you can grow in whatever space you may have, and then plant it. Keep a journal; include photos and art work and nature observations. Read, to each other, with each other, and alone. Find recipes and cook them even if they are as simple as making a sandwich by cutting a banana into 1/8’s and adding 2 TBSP of PB and 1 tsp of honey to it. Write letters to those in a local nursing home or hospital. Thank the nurses and doctors. If you have a favorite store or cafe that is open, write them a thank you card. If you have a pet, research ways to enrich their days during this time. There are a lot of fun things to do with your pet. Then at the end of each day, pick one good thing that happened that you are thankful for and name it.
Take care of yourself and each other (and your animal friends too).
Lauren Leander ICU Nurse stands in brave and silent protest against those protesting stay at home orders.
“But February made me shiver With every paper I’d deliver Bad news on the doorstep I couldn’t take one more step…” American Pie lyrics
They say a country doesn’t know the day a democracy dies. But I think in this case we do. Because this week democracy died in our country. Its death began patiently decades ago but we didn’t notice. Its final unraveling though came in with the roar, “Lock her up,” and left with barely a whisper while tens of thousands witnessed the deaths of loved ones.
When an authoritarian regime comes in and causes the death of a democracy, many expect a loud appearance. But that’s not how this one happened. It came in incrementally, step by designed step. It wasn’t just the lack of oversight and accountability by the House and Senate, although that certainly didn’t help. We’ve seen that before, although not to the level it is today. It wasn’t even the realization that we had lost the integrity of the Supreme Court and the Justice Department, although that certainly didn’t help. And it wasn’t the fact that all three branches of government had fallen in line with trump and his desire to be in total control, although that didn’t help either. Witnessing the well crafted checks and balances fall apart and become impotent to hold up as they were intended didn’t leave me totally without hope either (although it should have). No, it was something unexpected and to be honest I don’t think many Republicans even fully realized the depth of what was happening. But maybe I’m letting them off too easy.
For me, the death of our democracy was evident when masks and life saving supplies were taken by the federal government and not distributed to the states. It was when nurses needed to stand up against our own citizens who, as armed terrorists, threatened the health and well being of every citizen in our country as well as our health care system. That, to me, were the days democracy finally took its last breath and died in the United States of America. We ask ourselves, “What democratic government, which claims to be by the people and for the people would do that?” None. Absolutely none.
So while we argue over opening up our states when we don’t even allow testing kits to be distributed in the numbers needed to prevent deaths and despair, and we argue over who constitutes a life worth saving, we will come to realize that we have truly lost something quite special and worth saving.
And we will grieve this loss for a long long time.
Mary
PS – Will we do what is needed to resuscitate it and bring it back? I surely hope so.
A lovely garden in the UK that my son helped tend last summer.
Yesterday I had a long phone conversation with my son. He is in Vietnam and he can’t leave. I worry about him for obvious reasons. After that phone call, I hung up with a different perspective from before the call began. Like the rest of us, Kyle has good days and not so good days. But he could tell by my voice that I wasn’t having a particularly good day. And just like that, our roles reversed. He was reassuring me. Telling me it’s going to be ok even though he has spent months telling me it isn’t, well not for his generation that is. He questioned me until he found a morsel, a nugget, of hope. The hope he found was in the information that the seed company I love and use, FEDCO Seeds, has had a banner year. It appears that this pandemic has people reverting to the most radical action we can do, growing our own food. “Well that’s something,” he said. “Focus on that, on the good being done by regular folks in your community.” I was shocked. My son, the political genius who usually rattles off geopolitical history that would make anyone’s head spin was suggesting I put my attention to my community. He was telling me to grow my garden, help with the mask making effort. “Grow your food again, ma. You’ve been doing it since before I was born. Go back.” So today I planted peas. And for the first time in my life it felt like the radical act it is.
While sitting outside drinking coffee I found myself thinking about the women I know and how amazed I am at their strength, resiliency, and determination to do all they can to make this somehow a little bit better. I wondered about myself and was saddened by my own inability to break the inertia of isolation blues. I wondered if the outside evils had finally won. It’s been a month and a half of this isolation and I can’t seem to navigate a path. I thought I’d be brave. I thought I’d be strong. I thought I could handle anything. Now I’m wondering if I was wrong. This has been such an unexpected punch in the gut and it appears to have won round one. But as round two begins, the realization that this is going to be our life for a long while, I realize I need to figure something else out. But first there is something that needs to be dealt with.
Grief. It has become clear to me that what is causing this struggle is grief. And I have learned that grief is not something to hurry up, skip over, brush away, pretend it’s not there. It’s real and has its own timeline. There are those pesky stages that anyone who suffers loss goes through. We don’t make it to our 60’s without substantial loss at some point in our lives. If we do we are incredibly blessed. So I recognize grief. That debilitating paralysis. But I know it doesn’t last forever. I also know it takes work to get out of it. And to be honest it felt good to put a name to the something that has been so consuming. It’s always nice to know you’re not just being a deadbeat loser.
So for anyone else out there feeling similar feelings. I think we’re going to be OK. There isn’t a nifty little book that tells us how to deal with a freaking pandemic. We’re creating the map on this one. There will be ups and downs and that’s ok. Some days we may get good things done. Celebrate those days. Some days we will not get a darn thing worth anything done. That’s OK too. It really is. We need to be gentle with ourselves and give ourselves permission to not be 100%. Maybe, just maybe, that will help us be a little gentler and kinder to others. And gosh knows we need that.
So, to the radical gardeners, mask makers, health care workers, grocery clerks, fast food workers, delivery drivers, farmers, seed packers, teachers, and neighbors who check in with each other…we can do this. We have to do this; we really don’t have a choice. This exact same thing, pandemic, happened almost exactly 100 years ago. And just like they made it through, we will make it through again. We will certainly grieve for those we lose. And because of that we will be changed. We must make every effort to make sure that we change for the better. May we be kinder, and may we recognize and care for those who are less fortunate. They are so incredibly visible today. Let us not look away. Let us always see and work to make life just a little more fair. A little more equitable. A little more compassionate.
“… whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40
Queens, NY – If you read anything today, read about the what is happening in Queens, NY during this pandemic. In Queens, a city largely made up of low wage immigrants, the people are being horribly affected by the pandemic in astronomical proportions. We cannot, should not, say that we are a great nation when this is happening to our brothers and sisters. We just can’t. While the elite, the rich, the upper class whites have the living quarters, the health care, and the employment wages that they need to weather this pandemic, those who struggle do not have what is needed to survive this. The fact that this is happening in the United States, once thought to be the most loved and powerful country in the world, is telling. It reveals who we are as a nation. And it reveals that we are not the great nation we once was. Not even remotely. It reveals a deep seated stain called racism that many refuse to see and acknowledge. I say that because if Queens were made up of wealthy white folks, this would not be happening there. But of course it isn’t.
It’s difficult for me to release the belief that we live in the greatest country on Earth. It causes confusion and grief and anger. But challenging that belief reveals a deeply held privilege that is not, has never been, something that many in our country have been allowed to experience. For this injustice I grieve.
If you are white and middle or upper class you probably believe our country is great. Because for us it has been great. We had a house, enough food, a good education, health insurance, and all the opportunities to ensure that the “American Dream” could be fulfilled. But this came at great expense as we turned away from the millions who did not have these necessities. Maybe we didn’t see. Maybe we were on the hamster wheel of work and family that didn’t allow us the time to see outside ourselves. Or maybe we were so content to be ok that we didn’t want to look into the darkness that our lives created for others. Whatever the reason, valid or not, that lack of seeing was wrong, ignorant; willful or not. Maybe it was something even deeper and much harder to admit. Maybe it was prejudice and racism and entitlement. And that right there is something we each need to reflect on. If you find yourself defensive right now, that’s a pretty good sign that you probably have some deep soul searching and work to do. For all those years of ignorance or willful looking away, I feel a deep remorse. But remorse is worthless if not followed with actions to correct the injustice. We must acknowledge that the foundation of that injustice is white nationalism and supremacy. Clear and simple. Our country was founded on it. It’s successes and wealth were built on it. It is the foundation of who we are and what made us “great”. If what is happening right now in Queens tells us anything, it tells us that we are not the country we thought we were. And Queens is just one example.
Recently my son made the decision to trade in ten years of savings to travel abroad. Yes, he is very lucky. Now he says he seriously doubts he will come back to this country, his home. I can’t tell you how sad that makes me feel. While traveling through other countries he experienced people who were much happier and healthier than we are. He witnessed governments that took care of their population. Governments who did good things. He shared how today he learned that Vietnam is building and donating 55,000 ventilators a month to neighboring countries because they have stabilized the spread of the virus. He has encountered countries that believe in the tenets of democracy and that health care for everyone, not just those who can afford it, is a basic human right and is guaranteed. They deeply believe that how they treat their most vulnerable determines how strong, healthy, and successful their country will be. The results appear to confirm such moral thinking. These are countries that believe the planet is a small place and that we will all do better if we help each other rather than compete with/against and harm each other. It’s the old “who can play in the sandbox” thinking. You know, the “everything you learned in kindergarten” belief….
“Share everything. Play fair. Don’t hit people. Put things back where you found them. Clean up your own mess. Don’t take things that aren’t yours. Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody. Wash your hands before you eat. Flush. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you…”
So today I mourn. I mourn for my country. For the belief of what I thought our country was. For the many who don’t see the deep peril we are in and for those who do. I mourn for those who are in such deep pain and danger while our government chooses to turn its back on them. I mourn for the racism that continues and the loss we are experiencing with this virus. I mourn for the decision of my son, who I miss deeply, to not come back home.
While this did not begin with our current president, he sure gives an ugly and scared face and name to all that is wrong with our nation. Together we have the power to eradicate it. All of it. Beginning with the structural racism that imprisons so many to a life of pain and fear.
I have read that through pain we are provided opportunities to rebuild in the image of something good, something better. I hang my hope on that notion. That we will move forward thinking about our most vulnerable. That our policy decisions and our support of them, will be made taking into account the effects on our planet and each other.
“…And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.” All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, Robert Fulghum
In solidarity and with resistance, I dedicate this and our work as we move forward to my son and daughter, for your sons and daughters. May we build a better world for them and those who our society often leaves behind.
in time of daffodils(who know the goal of living is to grow) forgetting why, remember how… in time of daffodils – e.e. cummings
We are being tested. Many of us wonder what the world will look like and feel like once this is over. When we, once again, are allowed to sit with extended family or friends, who will sit around the table with us? For me, that thought is what dominates my thinking; and I doubt I am alone in that.
We try to carry on best we can in our day to day lives. While in the mist of this constant struggle, to stifle the fear and the uncertainty, we are reminded that there is beauty around us. We must find it. We must see it. We must take the time to appreciate it, breathe it in, enjoy it. Our hearts and souls are under siege. Not just by this plague but by the plague of this administration. How will we come through this?
It is easy to let fear and hate seep into our hearts. Gosh know’s I’m struggling with it everyday. At times it’s almost overwhelming, paralyzing. That is when I know I need to reach out. To friends, to family, to nature. It takes a concerted effort to not join those emotions and go down the rabbit hole they continue to invite me into. It’s dark there. It’s musty there. “Go back.” I hear the voice of my children to go back. To stay with us. To not succumb to the evil that is enveloping us.
Oddly I find myself thinking of a little girl who lived 80 odd years ago. I ordered her book, her diary which I’ve read many times. And to be honest I struggled each time to really understand. Now I’m turning to her to guide me through this darkness. To hold onto hope and the belief that people are good. To grab and embrace the light that offers itself to me.
…and in a mystery to be (when time from time shall set us free) forgetting me,remember me – in time of daffodils – e.e. cummings
Reach out to those around you. Reach out to your family and friends and neighbors. Reach out to the essential workers who are keeping us alive. Stay safe. And never give up your efforts to shun the dark and live in the light.
The photo above is where my son is in quarantine. It is where he will spend the next 3 months because the borders of Vietnam are closed and internal travel is restricted. It is on the outskirts of a national park that is usually filled with tourists. Now it is just him and the owners of the camp. To say they were reluctant to let him in is an understatement. He looks like the Brits who reintroduced the virus to their country.
A little over a month ago my son went to Vietnam. “The rent is cheap there and it’s still warm.” And so he went. And it didn’t take him long to fall in love with the country, the beauty, the people, and the food. But then things changed very quickly. Two “foreigners” from the UK flew into the Hanoi Airport and brought with them unexpected cargo, Coronavirus. It spread like wildfire and he noticed the welcoming nature of the loving and open people slowly disappear as foreigners were feared and no longer welcome. He lost his Air BnB and struggled to find another. Being over 6 feet tall, white, and with reddish hair, well he looks like he came from the UK, and actually, his ancestors did. He found a small hole in the wall where he could stay for a while but he would have to move on. He looked online and found a remote camp which would be a three hour train ride into the country. The owners told him he could come. Then the train fell through and he found a driver who would drive him the 4 hour drive. I admit, I was on pins and needles during his entire ride and I assume he was a bit nervous as well because he sent us screenshots of the car company contact info and the driver’s information as well. They drove for over 3/12 hours through beautiful, dense, green, jungle when suddenly the trees opened up and majestic mountains were before him. The driver, from the city, even stopped the car to take photos. My son exited the car, very grateful to arrive safely, and proceeded to the house. He was greeted by two very uneasy owners. Not sure why they agreed that he could come out and stay if they were uncomfortable with him being there. But they were clearly uncomfortable. After much “respectful and polite” interrogation and an agreement that he would self quarantine for 14 days, they agreed to let him stay. This is all understandable but none the less scary. How would he get back and where would he stay if they had changed their minds and said no? They told him he would have to find his own food. He asked about where to eat. They told him the restaurants and markets were closed. So he asked how he would find food especially since he agreed to be quarantined. They agreed to share their meals with him for a fee. A hefty fee at that. They are a young couple with two little children. With this camp being on the edge of a national park, which is closed, and the tourism they rely on gone, they needed the money. He promised them he pretty much sheltered in place for the past 18 days in his previous tiny place. They felt better about that and the fact that he had been in their country for almost two months. His money helps them and their shelter helps him. The young family now has hope that they will get through this and he has hope that he will too. So my son is sheltering in place in a remote camp in Vietnam. If that doesn’t make a mom’s heart pitter-patter I’m not sure what will.
A few days have now passed and he has settled in to his little room overlooking heaven. We chat daily but yesterday we had a lengthy chat about his new job which pays his new lodging. He tutors through an online English program. People from all over the world call him and he converses with them in English. He speaks with people from South Korea, Saudi Arabia, Brazil and many other countries. The topics tend to be light. Food, travel, family. But as we can imagine the topic of conversation lately centers around the impacts of the coronavirus. The number one question he is asked is, “Why is it so bad in America?” He struggles to reply in a way that makes sense. But the more he explains the more intelligent the questions are that they ask him. They want details about US policy, economy, politics. Which always leads to the next question he is asked, “How did trump happen?” For a year and a half he has spoken with people from other countries who have traded room and board for his help with installing walkways, painting rooms or fences, putting in gardens, etc. And for a year and a half he has had to answer that exact question. But he notices something else that is hiding in that question. First it’s usually out of curiosity that they ask, then the fear always shows its face. They are afraid of trump. They have seen him before. And they know what a fascist and nationalist looks like and sounds like. And they recognize that in him.
But something else was revealed by these phone calls. Some young men are at home, really at home, for the first time. They are with their wives and children full time, for the first time. I thought they were complaining about it but he said, “On the contrary. They love it. The didn’t know how much their wives did and how much fun their children are.” If that one thing comes out of this horribleness than… well I won’t say it was worth it because precious lives have been lost and more will certainly be. But it’s the flip side of this horror. This unearthed love that is so desperately needed. The dads need it as much as the moms and kids. We must come out of this kinder, gentler, more compassionate. We must recognize the need for families to come first and do everything in our collective power to make that a reality. For our families, our communities, and for the Earth. I think I heard something new in his voice. For the first time in his life he can feel it, hope. That gives me hope too.
My son is in quarantine in Vietnam. He is safe. I wish we were all so lucky. Stay safe. Stay at home unless you are one of the essential heroes keeping the rest of us going. If you are one of them, stay safe and thank you. You will go down in history as the heroes of this incredibly difficult time.
Help each other. Reach out if you need to and we will all need to. This is going to be a long haul.
“For a little while longer the Light is among you…” (John 12:35, NASB)
A prayer wheel in Vietnam. Offering light, peace, and prayer.
Prayer is a funny thing. Millions use it daily to guide their lives, to bring relief, and/or to communicate with something greater than themselves. I saw the power of prayer as I watched asylum seekers on our southern border say the rosary. While it was absolutely heartbreaking, almost overwhelming, to witness them as they prayed to keep their fear at bay, it allowed me an honored opportunity to peer into the window of their hope. Witnessing this gave prayer new meaning to me. As I watched them began their prayer visibly scared, they ended at peace, unified, and with the strength needed for the overwhelming tasks which lay before them. Saying the rosary is something I myself participated in quite frequently as a child growing up, but it never gave me such strength or relief so I dismissed it. Since that witness I have reflected deeply on my beliefs regarding the power of prayer.
Over a year ago my son left home to see what the world was all about. He recently found his way to Vietnam. When he realized he could not leave Vietnam because they closed their borders due to the coronavirus he panicked. One evening he decided to walk through the small city he was staying in and he noticed the prayer wheels that he had seen during the day, like the one above. It was lit up, a beacon guiding his lost soul. It brought him relief, a much needed sense of calm, much the way prayer did those seeking asylum who I spent time with. The light wheels offered a feeling that he will be ok. When he sent me the photo it helped me as well. Light and prayer. What role do they play in our ability to make it through our days especially when our days are full of fear and the unknown? Apparently a lot.
Last night my husband put up our white Christmas lights on our home. Not all of them but enough to light up our space. We both felt a sense of calm when we went outside to look at them. We both agreed that we hoped those working in our hospitals who drove by and saw them felt a momentary happiness that they were offering to them.
Light and prayer. May they guide us during this time. Hold onto the power of light and reach out to those you love whether to offer relief or to ask for it.
“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself,” FDR.
Easier said than done but am slowly understanding the positive depth of these simple words.
While the world grapples with the pandemic, we begin what could be a long period of hunkering down. Not an easy thing to do for many reasons. But as we watch from a distance our neighbors across the ocean and how the pandemic has hit them, we slowly realize what is in store for us if we don’t. Maybe it was being a girl scout when young, maybe it was watching my father insist on having a full pantry and refrigerator that are guiding my thinking through this. He grew up extremely poor during the depression. I always got the sense he knew hunger and fear intimately. But whatever the reason, I would much rather be proactive and do whatever is necessary to avoid the worse. Better safe than sorry?
As my husband and I do just that, hunker down, I realize the privilege I have to be able to do that. It isn’t lost on me. Every morning I think of my own kids. One is in Vietnam and he can’t leave. He wears a mask everywhere he goes as do the folks from the town he’s in. The arrogant white people don’t. He refuses to be one of them. The other is working in very close contact with customers. So fear has taken residence as a constant companion in my stomach. Then my mind expands to my neighbors, those with kids, those needing their hourly paying jobs, those without health care or sick leave. Only then do the layers of all this become clear as do the depths of fear that many are experiencing, including myself.
While I won’t allow myself to travel down that rabbit hole, it’s incredibly difficult to stay away from it. It is a constant dance and it takes massive effort to steer clear. Effort that, according to FDR, is well worth my time.
So what do we do? First and foremost we give ourselves permission to stop, feel, and then act in whatever way that keeps us, our families, and communities safe. That cup of chamomile tea in the photo above did me a world of good. That oreo cookie that my husband bought me, helped too. Going out for a walk does miracles, even if it is temporarily.
This isn’t going to be easy for any of us. We are going to need to dig deep into a resolve and strength we may not even realize that we have. We will need to be deliberate and persistent. We will need the utmost compassion for ourselves and others. It will be exhausting and at times overwhelming. But we will breath through and carry on. Why? Because we have no other choice.
For several years many have been saying we are at a crossroad in time on this planet. We are reminded of that yet again. It is my hope that we are able to have the strength and clarity to do the work needed to bring anything positive that may be lurking to the forefront of our decisions and may they guide us on a new pathway of actions that benefit all.
For all out there who are struggling, as I am, may we succeed in actively fighting back any fear we may have. May we succeed in replacing it with actions needed to take care of ourselves, our families, and our neighbors. May we continue until we are on the other side. Then, may we hold onto newfound discoveries that were uncovered, especially if they unexpectedly showed us the joy and benefits of slowing down, being with family, and helping neighbors.
Stay strong, wash your hands, stay home if you can, reach out if you need help or if you can give help.
water tanks, showers, tents from World Central Kitchen, Unicef tent, medical help, Mexican National Guard with weapons, a river, and a fence.
Tent courts not giving due process, hiding behind a mask of concern and care.
Buses emptying and an airplane loading, then departing with traumatized, scared people who did nothing wrong except ask for help at a time when so many refuse to help them.
Let me tell you what I didn’t see:
US government presence, enough international humanitarian presence, freedom from danger,
the cartel who roam freely, enough volunteers for all that needed to be done,
enough witnesses for all that needed to be seen,
due process. “Rapists, murderers, bad hombres” which our president declared I would see.
It has been over a week since returning from Matamoros, Mexico and Brownsville, TX. Still feeling rather numb. But that is what I saw.
World Central Kitchen dining hall in Matamoros Encampment
For those who have asked for the talk I gave at the Waterville UU Church on Sunday March 1, 2020. May this help those who want to spread the truth:
Buenos Dias,
Thank you for coming out this morning. May we open our hearts to enlightenment, courage, stamina, clarity, and the determination to do the work that needs to be done.
A few years ago I was listening to our president speak about securing our borders and he used the terms “animals and infestation” to refer to those coming to our southern border. A red flag went up. We have heard these terms throughout history. Terms that precede genocides. Because in order for good people to stand by and do nothing or actively participate in the evil we need to believe that those who are being affected are not people. As we listen today let us think of that. If there is only one thing that you take away from today, it is that we are talking about people with hopes and dreams just like you and me, and they are asking for our help.
There are over 60,000 people stuck on the southern border. They are spread between California and Texas. They are in tents, shelters, are making due squatting in abandoned buildings, or renting rooms in hotels. All of them are living in fear and in extremely unsafe conditions. The cartels along this border prey on these most vulnerable people. Kidnapping them and hurting them as a means to extort money from them and their families who live in the United States. Our government knows this is happening and yet it continues.
Recently I returned from Matamoros, Mexico where over 2,000 people are living in tents. There are many others scattered throughout the city. It is extremely unsafe in Matamoros. The cartel presence and thus the Mexican National Guard presence is obvious. After fleeing incredible violence, traveling thousands of miles, they are stuck living in even more violence. The trauma and exhaustion are visible on their faces. Once you see, you cannot unsee. And that is why I am here with you today. To do my best to help you see.
In Matamoros we worked with the World Central Kitchen to serve meals.The one rule they told us as we prepared the tables inside the big dining tent was to look each person in the eye, smile, and say hola. So that is what we did. The people we served, who have been through so much smiled back. They were shy and appreciative. There were many young families. Young women with babies in fabric wraps on their bodies and little children wrapped around their legs. Extremely protective dads balancing plates for their family. Young boys, often in groups.There was one grandpa with 5 plates he was maneuvering when all of a sudden he was in absolute panic. One of the 4 little ones wasn’t wrapped around his leg. Many of us have experienced something similar. We are out in public and we look up and our little one has strayed too far away and we feel panic. But this was panic on a whole new level. Thankfully the woman behind him found the little boy quickly and the line proceeded. That is the constant fear they live in. The cartels take children. Human trafficking is big business. They take women too. The migrants know this. We know this. The following day as I walked to the Resource Center in Matamoros a young boy, maybe 12ish came running up to hug me. He was our helper the night before. If you work with kids here in Maine we know that 12 year old boys don’t normally run up and hug adults. But living in such desperation their appreciation for someone, anyone, to help them is so obvious. His mom stood by and watched with a big smile on her face. I again heard the word, gracias. Something else I noticed, that even living in such squalor they are clean. Their clothes are washed, the faces of their children are clean, hair clean and neatly braided. All this with minimal water that is provided via hoses and water holding tanks. They are a proud people forced to live in subhuman conditions.
While in Brownsville, I joined the Witness at the Border group and witnessed in the tent courts and at the airport where deportations occur daily. Those were excruciating to watch. In the tent courts the migrants come in for their hearings.The judge is far away and visible on a large TV. Most do not have lawyers. We heard one after another told to come back with proper paperwork months later. Back to Mexico they went. I tried to imagine the fear they all felt knowing that this powerful person on the TV screen who would never look them in the eye, had the power to determine their entire future. It was a sham. Due process was not happening at this court. We spoke with an attorney outside. She shared what her work has become. It is clear that these attorneys are nothing short of unsung heroes.
The following morning, during the predawn hours, we went to the Brownsville Airport. Our goal was to witness the deportation that is occurring in increasing numbers. While we braced ourselves for what we were about to see standing along the airport fence, the historic significance of what we were witnessing wasn’t lost on any of us. We agreed that we were bearing witness to our country’s cattle cars; the reference is to the trains used in Nazi Germany. Big buses came filled with people. They had nothing but the clothing on their backs. After getting off the buses they were inspected, including looking into their mouths, the hair ribbons taken from the girls and women, and all were put in 5 point shackles. Men, women, children, and elders all shackled like criminals. They are not criminals. Seeking asylum is legal and is protected by both international and national laws. But here they were, with heads bowed, totally defeated and leaving their last chance of hope. Up the stairs into the plane they hopped. Many struggled and fell. For some it was back to the home country they fled but for many it was off to the unfamiliar and dangerous land. We have heard from Roman Catholic workers in Guatemala who greet these planes that the people who get off them don’t know where they are. They are exhausted and confused. Many think they are in a different city in the United States. They have nothing, know no one, and are desperate and in yet another dangerous city. This is what the Safe Third Country policy looks like. Because separating children from their families, putting them in detention or losing them in a corrupt adoption system was’t cruel enough. Because returning them to violent cities in Mexico wasn’t cruel enough, we now put them on planes without any due process and send them to Guatemala, a violent country that does not have the infrastructure to handle this. Why would Guatemala agree to this? We bullied them by threatening to cut off funding. The same reason why many of the human rights groups are nowhere to be found in these desperate border cities. Many depend on the donations from our government so cannot betray the criminal policies and offer the aid that is so desperately needed.
When I first heard about the separation policy by this administration I thought it must be a mistake. We would not take children away from their families and put them in detention camps. But we did and we still are. And this isn’t the first time in our country’s history that we’ve done this. Our history has been brutal to people who live in areas with natural resources of high value, including the original peoples of this land. These types of actions, I learned, were the real beginning of this story. Decades ago our government intervened with the governments of Central America so multinational corporations could take the resources away from the indigenous peoples. Think United Fruit Company. Our intervention, including military intervention, has caused the instability, the poverty, the violence that push these people to flee their homes. Think about what it would take for you to grab your kids and leave your home. No one wants to leave their home. These people are no different. Our policies in their home countries have caused this and yet, when they arrive at our doors, desperate, begging for help, we turn them away and force them to live with incredible threats of violence. With a little more research I found that by turning them away, by closing every port of entry along our southern border, we are breaking international human rights laws that were written and signed by 48 countries after WW2. We have literally fought a global world war over this. But we turn our backs on them and do it anyway. The number one thing people who support what our government is doing say, is that they came here “illegally”. Yet we have ended every legal means of asking for asylum. So we turn our heads and look away when our country implements policies designed to cause deterrence. It is important to know that the history behind our current policies of deterrence goes back to Bill Clinton. His administration was the author of the policies that we still use today. Those policies were racist and inhumane when he wrote them and used them, and they continue today. They were beefed up under the second Bush administration under the guise of 9/11 and then again under Obama. But as we know, they have been injected with steroids by this current administration. The policies of deterrence are based on cruelty in many forms. Child separations, detention camps with subhuman and abusive conditions, closing ports of entry, the wall and other barriers, they are all parts of the same plan of deterrence. And certainly the carefully crafted messages of racism for us to adopt are a part of it. The belief is to make the act of attempting to enter our country as awful as possible and they won’t come. But yet they come anyway because what they are fleeing is even worse.
My first commitment began when I helped with shutting down Homestead child detention camp in southern Florida. Homestead was the largest for profit child detention camp in the country. Many people including John Kelly, who was then White House Chief of Staff for the current president and an author of the child separation policy, made millions of dollars off of this facility. Our tax money paid for it and made him and many others even more wealthy than they already were. And this is not unique for Homestead. Detention centers, jails, airtravel, busses, shackles, ankle monitors, militarized borders are all big business. As they say, follow the money. Homestead, an unlicensed facility and thus not subject to follow state child protection laws,sat near an Air Reserve base on the edge of a swamp in southern Florida. It was hot, buggy, and the most horrible place I have ever been to. While at Homestead, witnesses stood on ladders and watched children on the other side of a fence, playing soccer. Knowing that they were taken away from their families was physically and emotionally painful. Standing on the ladders, watching the kids, I of course thought of my two children and I prayed that if this had ever happened to them, someone would help them. During the 8 months Homestead was open, over 14,000 children went through their doors. The cost of each child was $750 per day. At the height of its use there were 3,200 children even though it was designed to hold 1,200 children. The math of profit and suffering is overwhelming.
After returning home from Homestead a small group of us began to stand on the corner of Main and Temple Streets in Waterville. Around the country people do this in acts of solidarity against these policies. During the cold winter months we have taken a break but will begin again as soon as the weather is warmer. Maybe you could join us.
Back in October I visited another border city, Juarez, the sister city of El Paso, TX. While there I worked with two young women who make the daily trip to cross over into Juarez. They go with clothing and supplies. They spoke about this dual city community and what it was like before the wall and the militarization of it. Families crossed back and forth freely. They went for school, shopping, out to dinner, for family celebrations. Now it’s different. There are fully weaponized military police everywhere, concerta wire, the wall, long long lines to stand through. It was sad to hear how their way of life has been changed because of racist policies. In Juarez people are spread around the city in shelters, most run by religious organizations. At one shelter we helped prepare simple burritos for lunch. While standing with women from the mountains of Guatemala we talked and laughed. The woman who brought us did the interpreting. As we ended, the tiny woman next to me said, “Thank you for not forgetting us.” I promised her we would not forget her and her family. While in that shelter I learned about something called the Icebox. They were terrified of it. What I learned is that they all went through an icebox. It was the holding cell they were put in right after they presented themselves for asylum. They are put into these cells with many others. They are given thin milar blankets and if they are given food it is of poor quality and sometimes still frozen and never enough of it. They do not have beds. Their medical needs are not met. They stay there waiting to be processed. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for days. One woman brought her son over to us. He looked to be about 10. She showed us the frostbite on his left cheek from being in the icebox. It was then I realized that it wasn’t just a cold cell, it was a freezing cold cell. She told us if someone complained about how cold it was, they would make it colder. Remember the policies of deterrence? This was such a policy in action. I never felt so ashamed to be a United States citizen as I did at that moment. We also learned that almost everything they come across with is taken from them including medicines, rosary beads, shoe laces, stuffed animals, clothing, even documents they need for their asylum hearings. One way the cartels know who they are is that they do not have shoe laces in their shoes.
In Maine we have a new head of Border Patrol. He was trained in El Paso and was a member of a very racist border patrol Facebook group that has since been taken down. He has stated that too many are trying to cross our border. Since he has arrived, ICE has ramped up it’s actions. Recently a migrant farm worker was arrested in Waterville’s Walmart, many others have been arrested around the state. The chance for deportation is high. We have a new ICE office and detention cell in downtown Portland in One City Center. We have a new ICE detention center being built in Scarborough. But because of swift and strong public outrage,Concord and Greyhound buses will no longer allow ICE to search their buses without warrants.
It has become painfully clear to me that we have a deep moral and spiritual problem in our country and thus a deep moral and spiritual obligation to correct it. It will take the work of every single one of us. No one gets to sit this one out.
It is easy to get swallowed up by the evil and the grief. But it is important to know that there are many good people working as hard as they can to stop this. It gives me hope. So how can you help? You can join us on the corner on Fridays at noon. I promise we will help educate you. Follow me on Facebook, donate to any of the organizations on the sheet of paper you will be provided, talk to your neighbors and family members about this. Most do not know or are ill informed. Become educated. Write Letters to the Editor. Our voices are desperately needed to drown out the ignorance and hatred that is often expressed on those pages. If you can, go to the border. Witness at the Border and/or Team Brownsville are great places to start. Please call our city counselors, state representatives, US Senators and Members of Congress. Do the city counselors of Waterville know this is happening in our city? Do our state representatives know that ICE detention facilities are being built in our state? Do our Senators and Members of Congress know what is happening in our state, in our country, and along our border? Ask them what they plan to do to stop it. Reaching out to them is critically important. Calls are the most effective but postcards, letters, or even online submissions help too. Our United States Senators and Congressional House Representatives all need to go to the border to see for themselves, first hand, the effects of Remain in Mexico and Safe Third Country policies. Two will tell you that they’ve gone. That was before both these policies began. Tell them they need to go back again. They tell me that no one calls. Please call. Only then will they begin to raise their voices against what we are doing. Remind them that their silence and actions are being recorded. This is happening on their watch. And in all fairness, it’s happening on ours too. Our voices or silence are also being recorded. We each need to get involved however we feel comfortable…. No, comfort has no place in any of this. We all need to break out of our comfort zones and do the work that this requires of us. If we wondered what we would do duing the Holocaust, we already know by what we are doing now.
Please vow today to not look away. We have the opportunity to participate in the work to end what I am sure will be known as a historic ethnic cleansing that is occurring by our government.
Let’s end with something that was written 80 years ago by a German Lutheran minister as he struggled with what was happening during the rise of Nazi Germany:
First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.
In solidarity, thank you for listening and not looking away. Never again is now.
Messages From the Heart 