the days after

brush my teeth

wash a load of clothes

plunge the toilet

check my email

feed the cats

go out for lunch

watch the last leaves fall

wave at the mailman

pay some bills

pray for my country

The Power and Tragedy of Political Assasination

How do people gain perspective when they live in the midst of history being made?

My husband and I moved to Washington DC in 1962. It was a heady place to be living. Live concerts by famous musicians, bookstores, and people from all over the world. The Smithsonian and art galleries. The Library of Congress with two copies of everything ever printed. Congress in session.

The March on Washington on the mall. It was the time of civil rights unrest. Our generation was determined to dramatically change our culture.

In November 1983, helicopters flew over the city announcing that President Kennedy had been shot. By evening it was clear he was dead. Not wanting to go home, we had something to eat at Woodward and Lothrop, a department store with a small restaurant.

Then we joined many others wandering the streets. People were in shell shock. There was little conversation, but like us people sought solace in being with others.

We were standing on Wisconsin Avenue when the motorcade carrying Kennedy’s body rushed by on the way to the Naval Hospital in Bethesda. There he was officially declared dead.

Later we learned that Lyndon Johnson had been sworn in as President as the presidential plane traveled from Dallas to Andrews Air Force base in Arlington. A sniper who disagreed with Kennedy was the assassin.

The next days were a blur. This was not supposed to happen. How did a person make sense of these events? My memories are crystal clear, visual and vivid. But they are a patchwork without any cognitive coherence.

During the transition, Johnson kindly gave Jackie several months to move out of the White House. Every morning Johnson was escorted by motorcade to the West Wing to go to work – traveling fast down Massachusetts Avenue, the avenue of embassies. Past the school where my husband was doing graduate work.

Political assassination is no joking matter. Along with others, we hoped it would never happen again.

But that was not to be. Five years later, Martin Luther King Jr. was killed by a sniper. Months later Bobby Kennedy lay wasted on the ground. Twenty years later I was at a conference, when it was announced that Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated.  A women in the group came forward keening. The sound stays with me.

It only takes one person with a gun to change the course of history.

A Millennial's Thoughtful Question

Some of our family had gathered around the table to share a meal and catch up with each other’s lives. After awhile, the conversation turned to current events in our community and beyond. Police shootings and police being shot. Black lives under attack. Inequality of rights in this country that has led to protests and sit-ins. Wars raging elsewhere and Europe under attack by ISIS. 

My husband and I reminisced about our involvement in the sixties’ civil rights movement. At a point in the conversation, one of the younger adults asked a ques†ion. He said: our generation of millennials has never known a time like this, but you two lived through tumultuous times when you were our age. How was that time the same and how is it different from today?

Over several days, I reflected on his question. Not necessarily “historically correct” observations, many others have done this analysis - but my perspective and feelings about this significant time in my early adult life. A time when my husband and I left the relative isolation of the rural Midwest to be plunged into what seemed to me like the heady center of the universe of our nation’s capital.

Words that spoke to the tumult of the sixties still speak to us today. Anne Lamott, writes 

in Traveling Mercies:  

When a lot of things start going wrong all at once

it is to protect something big and lovely

that is trying to get itself born--

and that this something needs for us to be distracted

so that it can be born as perfectly as possible.

Lamottcites a Tibetan belief and goes on to say:

That something big and lovely is our future.

It is our time and labor to embrace it,

for out of every death springs new life.

Those years so long ago did feel like something was being born. We believed we could change the world by passing laws against discrimination.

The civil rights movement was not a global issue. It was focused on events in this country. The cold war had been in existence for sometime, but I doubted Europe or Great Britain saw discrimination as their issue or paid much attention to what was going on here. Civil right was a uniquely American issue from the enslavement of African men and women, decades of repression, and the Civil War.

There was no internet telling us often within hours or even minutes of significant events around the world. I can’t even remember how we learned about what happened in Selma, Alabama, even though a close friend was there. There wer no cyber-attacks to worry over.  And no social media, instantly connecting us with individuals halfway round the world

.

Today, problems are global, far more complex, and tangled with so many issues unrelated to civil rights. What happens in France or the Middle East affects us in this country. What happened in Ferguson reverberates everywhere.  What Russia or North Korea do or say impacts  us locally.

Political leaders today are under minute scrutiny. Every word, every twitch is fodder for the news. Personalities are often the focus – over the issues. News is mixed with its entertainment value. Sure, we were fascinated with the Kennedys and Martin Luther King, but not in examining every detail of their daily personal lives – over and over again.

A spirit of optimism was pervasive. We believed we could take action and things would change. And much did. The Voting Rights Bill was passed and signed. As an outgrowth of the protest culture, the women’s movement has given women opportunities they didn’t dream of in the sixties. Where gender roles were rigid for most men and women. Yes, I picketed the White House - with my infant daughter in my arms. But I knew my place was in my home. And the civil rights movement morphed into protesting the war in Vietnam, using the same tactics of marches and protests that were so effective in addressing civil rights.

Fifty years ago, the movement within our culture was not a religious war. It was a moral war. Fear and gloom were not factors that pushed the civil rights movement. It was driven by a sense of justice. There was no distorted version of one world religion being used to justify violence or the determination to take over the world. The Ku Klux Klan was the closest “religion” to today’s ISIS. They were scary people dressed up in those white hoods and roads. But mostly, church leaders took an active role in denouncing racism.

The police were “not the enemy” nor were they victims. Yes, some of them did terrible things in the name of keeping peace. (Remember Selma for example). But they were not targeted for assassination. Today’s shooting would have shocked people even more then than they do today.

I remember being in graduate school at the University, when tear gas began to waft through the open windows. We left the building to see police trotting down the mall wearing gas masks. Had no idea then why - even though the image is crystal clear in my memory. Nor were any of us watching afraid of them.

Guns. The sniper assassination of JFK was unprecedented. It was the day so many of us lost our innocence. The proliferation of guns today has meant daily senseless shootings. From random shootings to deliberate acts to take lives. Not just in this country but in Europe and elsewhere. Europe was the safest place anywhere – is now haunted by the fear of more ISIS attacks.

During the sixties, there was not a yawning gap between those who had from those who did not – unless you were black. Wall Street was not a part of the problem. A household could live comfortably on one income. The middle class was large, and within reach of so many of us. Yes there was poverty, black and white. But our efforts were creation of Head Start and a numbr of other Federal programs. In addition to gradual integration of public schools.

                

Today’s presidential campaign would have been unbelievable in the sixties. Science fiction maybe. But not real time/real life. Sometimes it is hard not to feel hopeless or voiceless. How can one person create change, given the complex intertwined issues? Where even to begin?

Bernie Sanders began a revolution that I doubt even he did not expect would happen. It touched something deep inside people desiring a better society. However, permission has been given to voice unprecedented hatred and bigotry. In the voting booth, we all need to look deep inside and consider what we want the future to be.

A wise man said the following over twenty centuries ago:

Do not be daunted by

the enormity of the world's grief.

Do justly, now. Love mercy, now.

Walk humbly, now.

You are not obligated to complete the work,

but neither are you free to abandon it.

                                 - Rabbi Tarfon

My generation has to come to terms with contributions we made were not the solution to so much discrimination. We did our part, but the work is not done. The young adults of this day need to decide what they can do to further the work.

How Does It Happen?

Have you ever wondered how good and decent German people chose to align themselves with Hitler?

Yes, there are sociological and cultural explanations for what happened in Germany that led to Hitler’s determination to take over the entire world. But what I am asking is how did an individual turn from his or her ordinary life to endorse Nazism.

Take an example. Herr Schmitz, as we shall call him, was a hard-working man. He arose in the morning, ate his breakfast, took his lunch made by his wife, kissed her goodbye and headed off to his job. His hausfrau stayed home to raise their children, kept their home neat and tidy, and had dinner ready when he returned home. Exhausted from a hard days work, he was thankful that he was fortunate to have a job.

When did Herr Schmitz first hear Hitler’s rants and plans for world domination?  Did a co-worker say to him: you ought to hear this guy. He is quite a leader to listen to.

I ask myself the question because my family could still be living in Germany – as some of my ancestors are German. My mother could have been Frau Schmitz. If they had not immigrated to this country, would I have met my husband, whose immigrant grandparents were all German?

Our heritage must be written all over us. I remember walking into a restaurant once with him when  traveling in Germany. The waitperson assumed we were both German and handed us a menu written in German.

But my family stories are not all happy ones. During WWI, my grandfather, who was the youngest son, was literally run out of the southern Minnesota town because he had a German-sounding name. Losing the successful hardware store he started and ran. He never recovered financially, doing odd jobs to support his family. Ironically he was not German, but Dutch.

My father was drafted during WWII, leaving my motherr with a three year old and an infant son. As a member of the Navy, he served on a troop carrier - going back and forth across the Pacific. Hitler had aligned himself with Japan and with Mussolini, broadening his efforts to rule the world. My life was changed forever by these events, leaving a deep mark across my soul.

So I return to my question. What went on in the heart and soul of German individuals as they became swayed to Hitler’s rants? What would I have done if I had been a German woman in the thirties watching the changes going on around me? Would I have dissented and risked my life living under a tyrant? Or would I have kept my mouth shut and pretended I had little interest or knowledge of my country’s political climate?

The world we live in today is so chaotic. Shootings of innocent people occur too often in so many countries. Or  a truck is used as weapon and driven into crowds enjoying Nice, France. A place where I have fond memories of strolling along that same street.

Curious, I looked up the definitions of end-times – Armageddon and Apocalypse. After much devastation, Armageddon heralds a new millennium of peace.  Apocalypse is total destruction of humankind. And I ask myself if we are living in the Apocalypse.

Yet, we need to hope. The message of doom and gloom preached by the GOP candidate for president does not match with reality. Ready access to death via the internet does not reflect the lives of so many decent and hardworking people – tragic as those deaths are. And the leadership of brave women and men, who don’t remain silent, but speak the truth as they see it.

Nelson Mandela was one of those leaders. All those years he spent in a wretched prison cell and solitary confinement, he finally emerged with wisdom and courage to bring about great change. I ask myself if I would have had that kind of courage after so many years of prison? Let the following words resonate within you:

Prayer – Nelson Mandela Funeral  – 2013

Beyond the absence, there is hope.

Beyond the pain, there is healing.

Beyond the brokenness is wholeness.

Beyond the turmoil there is peace.

Beyond the hurting there is heaven .

Beyond the silence, beyond the silence. .

God speaks:

Be strong, Let your heart take courage,

All you who hope in God (Ps. 31)