You had better sit down….this is a long one!
I have now been pretty much under “house arrest” for nearly three months. With the exception of the doctor’s office and one quick (scheduled) visit to the bank, I have not seen the inside of any establishment other than my own home or that of my children since March 14th. I have not visited with any friends, except for one socially distant chat in my driveway. My groceries and prescriptions have all been “curbside” or “drive through”. My daughter’s Summa Cum Laude graduation from university was celebrated at home, with banners and cake and gifts…and just us.
Until recently, we were just dealing with a pandemic. We were dealing with the uncertainties associated with a new, highly contagious and potentially deadly strain of a Coronavirus that APPEARED to be held at bay if we all took strong precautions…social distancing, hand sanitizer, masks and good sense. The insanity of hoarding toilet paper became an almost laughable situation (especially since I had a case) and the idea of trying to find paper towels instead of using cloth towels and washing them just exemplified how society has moved toward the disposable instead of the practical.
Hospitals were strained, first responders were exhausted, lives were forever changed. Whether it was losing a job, or, worse, losing a family member with whom one could not spend those final hours, hundreds of thousands…….no, millions……of us were impacted. It was not a matter of inconvenience, as so many seem to believe. It was, and is, a matter of life and death, of worrying about putting food on the table, of losing a home, of losing a loved one. Without the leadership we needed as a people, we counted on our governors and the medical professionals to advise us, to help us and to guide us.
And then, as if all of that wasn’t enough…
I have tried very hard since I started this blog to keep it apolitical. To keep it simply a personal account of my feelings, especially those dealing with grief. And trust me, being without Tom during the past months has been beyond difficult. I have longed for conversation, for consolation, for support, for hugs, for advice and just for him.
But I digress. And, mind you, I have a right to speak here.
Never in my life have I seen my country in such turmoil, and, sadly, it has created hostilities unlike anything I have experienced. I lived through the Cold War where we had to learn to hide under our desks in the event of a nuclear attack. I have experienced (in no particular order) the 60s, Kent State, the Black Panther movement, the Vietnam War (and I marched on Washington to end it – sorry, Tom), protests at Columbia University, 9-11 and more. I have been called a baby-killer because I am a registered Democrat, even though I have never voted straight party line, and have been made to feel afraid to speak my mind more times than I can remember.
I have also experienced first hand anti-semitism (in fact, I was not invited to a “dear friend’s” engagement party because my family was Jewish) and second-hand hatred since my grandparents’ families were wiped out in the concentration camps of WWII. And despite all of that, many members of my family were grossly racist. Imagine that….bemoaning persecution while being racist…thankfully, this apple, and a couple of others of my generation, fell far from that shameful tree. And in 1984 I was assaulted by a young black man and my hero police officer (whose name I remember but will not divulge just in case…), who was also black, was just that…my hero. He got me through it all…and I am thankful for his hugs, his consolation, his support (and he literally held me up on several occasions) and his compassion every single day until the assailant was put in prison. So, yes, I have a right to speak out.
This systemic racism in our nation must end. I cannot imagine the pain that the families of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Botham Jean, Trayvon Martin, and all of the other innocent victims to clearly racially motivated violence have had to endure. I cannot imagine that had I asked a woman to put her dog on a leash in Central Park that she would have called 911. THIS MUST END. I am tired of hearing “All Lives Matter” when someone shouts that “Black Lives Matter”. Of course all lives matter….but as has been so aptly pointed out in much of social media, I am going to paraphrase Luke 15 here: There are 100 sheep, but one goes missing. Jesus leaves the 99 and goes after the one. The 99: “but what about us, don’t we matter?” Of course the 99 still matter, but they are not the ones in danger. The one is. Get it? I hope you do….
By the same token, I truly believe that good cops hate bad ones, and that there are a HELL OF A LOT more good cops than bad ones. I do not believe in defunding police forces. I do believe that more training during and more psychological testing before hire are important. I do believe that ANY police officer who has “skated” on charges or bad behavior investigations has no business being allowed to continue his or her employment…unless he or she is put on desk duty. Cops like Derek Chauvin had no business being on the street, and shame on the powers-that-be that allowed him to stay there.
So here we are, in a country in turmoil. In a country without executive leadership that carries with it strength, compassion, competence, sympathy, caring or courage. Shame on the same leadership for touting Abraham Lincoln as an idol. Not even close.
But, this is the greatest nation in the world, even though right now it might not seem that way. We will survive this. These deaths, and the deaths of all who have sacrificed themselves for our liberties, for our rights and for our very survival over the centuries, MUST not be in vain. If you unfriend me on Facebook or in life because of my beliefs, my background, my speaking my mind or my position, then so be it. I am who I am – take it or leave it. I hope Tom and I raised my children with the same kind of pride and compassion.
This apple fell far from the tree…and I am damned proud of it.