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As I was sorting through the books on the shelves trying to decide which of my “babies”to part with in the garage sale I came upon a book I read several years back called “Sync –How Order Emerges From Chaos in the Universe,Nature and Daily Life”by Steven Strogatz. Sounds a bit dry to you I imagine. It did to me at first too but it was recommended by a friend so I undertook it. I have to say it took me a long while to finish it as I undertook it as a “bathroom”read,meaning I only read a snippet here or there when I made my trip to the loo.
As I picked it up off the shelf this time and flipped back through the pages I remembered some of instances of sync discussed in the book.
Journal Science,1917 ”Some twenty years ago I saw,or thought I saw,a synchronal or simultaneous flashing of fireflies. I could hardly believe my eyes,for such a thing to occur among insects is certainly contrary to all natural laws.”–Philip Laurent
For the next twenty years the Journal Science published multiple articles on this mysterious sychrony. The book goes on to discuss numerous instances of sync in the world –brain waves,heart beats,menstrual cycles of women in close proximity,clocks,leaves of plants that open and close simultaneously. Most of these examples are both synchronic and rhythmic. But synchronicity doesn’t have to be rhythmic. For example,the various sections of an orchestra –strings,woodwinds,etc. are synchronous as they come in to play in a piece but not necessarily rhythmic.
In any event,my point here is that the universe is drawn to synchronicity. If that is so,then why can’t we,as a society,as individuals be more in sync? We are once again in a political cycle. Well really,these cycles are not cycles at all,they are perpetual states of re-election. But these campaigns seem to draw us further and further away from sync with each other as they are designed to focus on our differences rather than where we are alike. In religion,we have battles all over the world and here at home on who has the “right”religion,instead of focusing on where we are in sync. There are many basic foundational beliefs in the religions of the world that are the same. Can’t we focus our attention there to be more in sync?
I’ve stopped watching the news for the most part. It just seems designed to aggravate and induce fear and anxiety. NPR’s Talk of the Nation this week did a piece on the media hype behind Hurricane Irene and whether or not it was too much. http://n.pr/qpYULM I think the same could be said for the earthquake in Washington,DC the week before. We had the same level of earthquake out here in Colorado the same day and there was almost no news about at all. We live in this age of constant media bombardment of “news”that’s not really news. Its opinion,speculation and hype. How do we stop this crazy cycle? I’d like to see something like “the Good News Network” or the “Just the Facts M’am Network”. Wonder if that would even be possible today?
At the same time we are bombarding ourselves and our children with these images and voices of discord,we are also failing in our ability to have a civil discourse about any meaningful topic. Can’t people agree to disagree and be respectful about it? Why can’t we talk about our differences of opinion as the great debaters who founded our nation did? I just don’t get it. I like to read about and talk to people about different points of view. That’s the only way to really learn. Ask questions and listen. Maybe you won’t change your view from black to white but maybe,just maybe,you will add a shade of gray to your point of view.
As a nation,as a world,and as individuals we desperately need to give this topic some serious thought and try to turn ourselves toward SYNC. That doesn’t mean we all have to be alike,just that we move in better concert with each other -like the symphony.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Aroma, Scent, Smell - What fools these children be.......
Yesterday I read a tidbit in Real Simple Magazine. It said that according to research by McCann Worldgroup 53% of 16 to 22-year-olds around the world would rather give up their sense of smell than their favorite personal technology device. It took a minute or two for that to sink it. I could argue about their sample size and what countries they surveyed to argue against this but that is beside the point.
The point is that our children have been deprived of their senses, especially smell, so much so that they are not even aware of the importance of some of them.
"Our sense of smell is 10,000 times more sensitive than any other of our senses and recognition of smell is immediate." (von Have, Serene Aromatherapy).
Our children grow up in these sterile environments in well lit rooms filled with electronic gadgets to distract their attention. Many are rarely outside surrounded by the smells of nature. Smell has the ability to achieve instant memory recall. When I smell the rich, thick, earthy aroma of rotting organic matter, I am instantly transported back to the woods of my childhood. My mind goes back to the rich soil under my feet and in my fingernails from hours spent exploring the woods behind my neighbors house. Just after the lawn is mowed and a gentle rain falls, again, I am transported back in my mind to days of my childhood. The sweet smell of grass mingling with the crisp scent of the falling rain. Would I give this up for an iPhone? Are you crazy?
I remember as a child standing in the front hall closet and smelling my Dad's khaki work jacket. It was infused with the scent of tobacco and my father's unique earthiness from a day of construction work. I used to hold the jacket up to my face and just breathe it in. My father is gone but I could bring him back in an instant with that mix of smells. As any of you know who have lost a loved one, some of the most treasured things you have in the weeks following the loss are not golden lockets or even photographs, they are the old shirt, the pillow, the blanket they last used. We close our eyes and hold them close and evoke the full sense of "knowing" our loved one is still there with us. I remember when my Dad's T-shirt, I had saved after he died, was washed by accident and the scent was no longer there. I was heart broken. Nothing can recreate that. Would I give this up for a Computer? No way.
Every time I smell fresh bread cooking it takes me back to the time Lindsay and I lived in the little house in Dallas around the corner from the Mrs. Baird's Bread Factory. I remember what my life was like then, sitting in the backyard watching Lindsay frolic around shirtless in the sprinkler while the smell of bread floated over the fence. I remember the way she smelled as a little girl - her clothes,her hair, her skin. I wish I had that in a bottle. Would I trade that for an iPad? Not on your life.
There are so many smells that evoke a great sense of pleasure or a memory for me - the leaves of a tomato plant, dirt, my mother's perfume, Vick's vapor rub, strawberries, peaches, cookies baking, pine needles, gardenias, peonies, baby soap, bourbon, wine......
My husband is losing his sense of smell. Its one of the early signs of Parkinson's. Its also an early indicator for Alzheimer's. Without a sense of smell I imagine it makes it even harder for a person losing their memory to recall things. It goes slowly at first, without notice.
The sense of smell is oh so important. Teach your children to appreciate it. Renew your own appreciation for it. Stop and smell the roses and/or the dirt. Never consider trading this critically important gift for an electronic gadget. Blasphemy!
When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scatter
the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls
bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory.
--- Marcel Proust "The Remembrance of Things Past"
The point is that our children have been deprived of their senses, especially smell, so much so that they are not even aware of the importance of some of them.
"Our sense of smell is 10,000 times more sensitive than any other of our senses and recognition of smell is immediate." (von Have, Serene Aromatherapy).
Our children grow up in these sterile environments in well lit rooms filled with electronic gadgets to distract their attention. Many are rarely outside surrounded by the smells of nature. Smell has the ability to achieve instant memory recall. When I smell the rich, thick, earthy aroma of rotting organic matter, I am instantly transported back to the woods of my childhood. My mind goes back to the rich soil under my feet and in my fingernails from hours spent exploring the woods behind my neighbors house. Just after the lawn is mowed and a gentle rain falls, again, I am transported back in my mind to days of my childhood. The sweet smell of grass mingling with the crisp scent of the falling rain. Would I give this up for an iPhone? Are you crazy?
I remember as a child standing in the front hall closet and smelling my Dad's khaki work jacket. It was infused with the scent of tobacco and my father's unique earthiness from a day of construction work. I used to hold the jacket up to my face and just breathe it in. My father is gone but I could bring him back in an instant with that mix of smells. As any of you know who have lost a loved one, some of the most treasured things you have in the weeks following the loss are not golden lockets or even photographs, they are the old shirt, the pillow, the blanket they last used. We close our eyes and hold them close and evoke the full sense of "knowing" our loved one is still there with us. I remember when my Dad's T-shirt, I had saved after he died, was washed by accident and the scent was no longer there. I was heart broken. Nothing can recreate that. Would I give this up for a Computer? No way.
Every time I smell fresh bread cooking it takes me back to the time Lindsay and I lived in the little house in Dallas around the corner from the Mrs. Baird's Bread Factory. I remember what my life was like then, sitting in the backyard watching Lindsay frolic around shirtless in the sprinkler while the smell of bread floated over the fence. I remember the way she smelled as a little girl - her clothes,her hair, her skin. I wish I had that in a bottle. Would I trade that for an iPad? Not on your life.
There are so many smells that evoke a great sense of pleasure or a memory for me - the leaves of a tomato plant, dirt, my mother's perfume, Vick's vapor rub, strawberries, peaches, cookies baking, pine needles, gardenias, peonies, baby soap, bourbon, wine......
My husband is losing his sense of smell. Its one of the early signs of Parkinson's. Its also an early indicator for Alzheimer's. Without a sense of smell I imagine it makes it even harder for a person losing their memory to recall things. It goes slowly at first, without notice.
The sense of smell is oh so important. Teach your children to appreciate it. Renew your own appreciation for it. Stop and smell the roses and/or the dirt. Never consider trading this critically important gift for an electronic gadget. Blasphemy!
When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scatter
the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls
bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory.
--- Marcel Proust "The Remembrance of Things Past"
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Good bye old friend - I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree
Today is a very sad day. I don't know if many of you have heard of the pine beetle or not. It has been devastating the pine forests in the mountains of Colorado for several years now. We saw a similar epidemic on the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska several years ago when we were visiting. Over a million acres of forest in the Kenai have been killed by the beetle in Alaska in the last 20 years or so. And now we have watched the lush green forests along I70 and Berthoud Pass here in Colorado deteriorate slowly in to a sea of brown sticks. Each time we drive to the mountains a larger swath of the green is gone. It has been so sad to watch but today it came home to rest in my backyard. 
Our house is on three acres that we selected because of the old growth Ponderosa Pines. Before we bought the lot I walked it with a Native America shaman who "talked" to the trees and the landscape. They had been here many years and bore the scars of storms and droughts along their rugged trunks. We had the plans drawn for our house to make sure that we saved every tree on the land. They were a part of the land and we wanted them undisturbed. Alas, the pine beetle has made its way to Parker, Colorado. We've been spraying for the beetles every year since the epidemic started. It can help but isn't fool proof, especially if everyone surrounding you doesn't spray too. The large farm behind us doesn't spray. It would probably be much too expensive with the number of trees they have.
Before we left for Africa, we notice that the top of one of our oldest and largest trees had some dying foliage. We hoped that it was just the dry weather but didn't have time to check before we left. After we returned the neighbor who liveson the other side of the tree stopped by our house one evening. He had his trees guys look at it and it definitely had the beetle - $1,000 to remove it. We called Swingles, our tree service, and they came by. Yes, it was definitely the beetle and something else was attacking it. It had tried hard to defend itself but wasn't going to make it. He said it was the oldest tree in the cluster between our house and the neighbors. It had to come down. At least they were cheaper - $750. I wanted to cry for my beautiful old tree.
They arrived this morning. As I write this they are out there arranging their equipment to take him down piece by piece. This is a tree that is several hundred years old. It has survived so much. Why now?
This has renewed my interest in what is going on with our forests in the mountains. There is a forest conservation group focused on the beetle epidemic www.summitpinebeetle.org. They need your help. The beetle has severely impacted the Arapahoe/Roosevelt, White River, Medicine Bow and Routt National Forests in the West.
It reminds me of a poem I used to love from my childhood. It was in a book of poems illustrated by Joan Walsh Anglund but the poem is by Joyce Kilmer.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
With tears in my eyes, the buzz of the chain saw and the crash of my dear felled tree I bit you farewell for the day.
Our house is on three acres that we selected because of the old growth Ponderosa Pines. Before we bought the lot I walked it with a Native America shaman who "talked" to the trees and the landscape. They had been here many years and bore the scars of storms and droughts along their rugged trunks. We had the plans drawn for our house to make sure that we saved every tree on the land. They were a part of the land and we wanted them undisturbed. Alas, the pine beetle has made its way to Parker, Colorado. We've been spraying for the beetles every year since the epidemic started. It can help but isn't fool proof, especially if everyone surrounding you doesn't spray too. The large farm behind us doesn't spray. It would probably be much too expensive with the number of trees they have.
Before we left for Africa, we notice that the top of one of our oldest and largest trees had some dying foliage. We hoped that it was just the dry weather but didn't have time to check before we left. After we returned the neighbor who liveson the other side of the tree stopped by our house one evening. He had his trees guys look at it and it definitely had the beetle - $1,000 to remove it. We called Swingles, our tree service, and they came by. Yes, it was definitely the beetle and something else was attacking it. It had tried hard to defend itself but wasn't going to make it. He said it was the oldest tree in the cluster between our house and the neighbors. It had to come down. At least they were cheaper - $750. I wanted to cry for my beautiful old tree.
They arrived this morning. As I write this they are out there arranging their equipment to take him down piece by piece. This is a tree that is several hundred years old. It has survived so much. Why now?
This has renewed my interest in what is going on with our forests in the mountains. There is a forest conservation group focused on the beetle epidemic www.summitpinebeetle.org. They need your help. The beetle has severely impacted the Arapahoe/Roosevelt, White River, Medicine Bow and Routt National Forests in the West.
It reminds me of a poem I used to love from my childhood. It was in a book of poems illustrated by Joan Walsh Anglund but the poem is by Joyce Kilmer.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
With tears in my eyes, the buzz of the chain saw and the crash of my dear felled tree I bit you farewell for the day.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Homecoming - Say Yes to the Dress
Today I went shopping for the first time for a homecoming dress with my 14 year old daughter, Mary Mac. Yes, my baby has a date to a homecoming dance.
What a day! Mary Mac loves to shop. She could spend hours in a mall just trying on clothes. It takes her a long time to make up her mind. I, on the other hand, don't shop for more than an hour at a time, usually buy without trying things on and make up my mind very quickly. So you see that we are a shopping match made in heaven.
Before we left for the mall Mary Mac was describing the vision of the dress she wanted. Something with an empire waist and flowy full skirt. She was scanning websites for something that might fit the bill. We picked up a friend and her Mom and headed to Cherry Creek Mall around 1 o'clock. First stop was Nordstrom. They had rearranged since the last time we were there and it took a few minutes to find the dresses. The first dress she picked with a beautiful purple dress with a strap over one shoulder made of jewels. The strap came down to the center of the back and attached to a piece of chiffon that came to a V where the shoulder strap attached. The dress was open below the V across the low part of the back. It had an empire waist and flowy strips of chiffon. It was the only dress she liked so she headed to the dressing room to try it on. I sat in a chair outside the dressing room waiting for her.
She emerged looking like a fairy princess. She was beaming. The dress was so pretty from the front. She wanted it so bad and I wanted it for her. But the back was just too revealing for a 14 year old and it was more expensive than I we had planned. I took an iPhone pic and sent it to her Dad to check. I was pretty sure he would say no to something with that much skin showing. It didn't look trashy but it did show a lot of skin in the back. Since that was our first stop we decided to put it on hold and go looking elsewhere.
We went to Banana Republic, J Crew, BeBe, BCBG, and Macy's with no luck. She tried on another 8-10 dresses. The one from BeBe was hilarious. The sales girl brought her a pair of shoes to try with it that had 4 inch heels! She looked like she was going out to work the corner. We all rolled laughing. As the hours passed and nothing came close to the first dress I could see the change in her mood. She wanted the purple dress so bad but she also knew it was a long shot. She stared rolling her eyes and getting irritated at everything I said. Our time was running out.
Finally, we headed back to Nordstrom's while Maddie and her Mom finished getting some shoes at Macy's. She tried the dress on again. It still looked exquisite but I noticed now that it needed some alterations. I still hadn't heard back from her Dad on the photo either. Alterations came and started pinning. Finally I called home to get John's okay. He went to his computer. While he was looking we had Mary Mac try on another dress (beige) that was a little more conservative. It looked beautiful too but nothing close to the purple dress. As soon as John saw the picture of the back the answer was a clear "NO". "Absolutely not."
She ran to the dressing room crying and refused to try on anything else. Finally, just to get her out of the dressing room and suggested getting both the purple and the beige dresses and taking them home for Dad to see. I would bring one or both back tomorrow if we didn't get approval in person. At this point we had been at it for almost 4 hours and I was reaching my limit. She was tired too.
As we were leaving the mall we decided to go get a bite to eat on the way home so I drove over one street. We passed White House/Black Market on the way. Maddie and her Mom suggested we take a look in there so I pulled in and parked. Mary Mac was still pretty sullen but agreed to try on a couple of dresses. One was a cute black strapless dress with a little mesh/lace trim at the bottom. It had an empire was and a flared skirt. She stepped out of the dressing room and took one look at herself in the mirror. THIS was the dress. It fit perfectly. She looked her age, yet, with a sophisticated flair. The sales girl brought an open toed shoe with a little black bow and matching black purse for the crowning touches. My girl was smiling again. And all for less than the purple dress!
I was thrilled and thankful.
Wondering how, as a mother, you keep the boundaries of appropriate attire when you see your child looking like a fairy princess while knowing the dress probably needs to be more conservative? So thankful, I could save that question for another day, another dance, another year?
Like I said - What a day!
What a day! Mary Mac loves to shop. She could spend hours in a mall just trying on clothes. It takes her a long time to make up her mind. I, on the other hand, don't shop for more than an hour at a time, usually buy without trying things on and make up my mind very quickly. So you see that we are a shopping match made in heaven.
Before we left for the mall Mary Mac was describing the vision of the dress she wanted. Something with an empire waist and flowy full skirt. She was scanning websites for something that might fit the bill. We picked up a friend and her Mom and headed to Cherry Creek Mall around 1 o'clock. First stop was Nordstrom. They had rearranged since the last time we were there and it took a few minutes to find the dresses. The first dress she picked with a beautiful purple dress with a strap over one shoulder made of jewels. The strap came down to the center of the back and attached to a piece of chiffon that came to a V where the shoulder strap attached. The dress was open below the V across the low part of the back. It had an empire waist and flowy strips of chiffon. It was the only dress she liked so she headed to the dressing room to try it on. I sat in a chair outside the dressing room waiting for her.
She emerged looking like a fairy princess. She was beaming. The dress was so pretty from the front. She wanted it so bad and I wanted it for her. But the back was just too revealing for a 14 year old and it was more expensive than I we had planned. I took an iPhone pic and sent it to her Dad to check. I was pretty sure he would say no to something with that much skin showing. It didn't look trashy but it did show a lot of skin in the back. Since that was our first stop we decided to put it on hold and go looking elsewhere.
We went to Banana Republic, J Crew, BeBe, BCBG, and Macy's with no luck. She tried on another 8-10 dresses. The one from BeBe was hilarious. The sales girl brought her a pair of shoes to try with it that had 4 inch heels! She looked like she was going out to work the corner. We all rolled laughing. As the hours passed and nothing came close to the first dress I could see the change in her mood. She wanted the purple dress so bad but she also knew it was a long shot. She stared rolling her eyes and getting irritated at everything I said. Our time was running out.
Finally, we headed back to Nordstrom's while Maddie and her Mom finished getting some shoes at Macy's. She tried the dress on again. It still looked exquisite but I noticed now that it needed some alterations. I still hadn't heard back from her Dad on the photo either. Alterations came and started pinning. Finally I called home to get John's okay. He went to his computer. While he was looking we had Mary Mac try on another dress (beige) that was a little more conservative. It looked beautiful too but nothing close to the purple dress. As soon as John saw the picture of the back the answer was a clear "NO". "Absolutely not."
She ran to the dressing room crying and refused to try on anything else. Finally, just to get her out of the dressing room and suggested getting both the purple and the beige dresses and taking them home for Dad to see. I would bring one or both back tomorrow if we didn't get approval in person. At this point we had been at it for almost 4 hours and I was reaching my limit. She was tired too.
As we were leaving the mall we decided to go get a bite to eat on the way home so I drove over one street. We passed White House/Black Market on the way. Maddie and her Mom suggested we take a look in there so I pulled in and parked. Mary Mac was still pretty sullen but agreed to try on a couple of dresses. One was a cute black strapless dress with a little mesh/lace trim at the bottom. It had an empire was and a flared skirt. She stepped out of the dressing room and took one look at herself in the mirror. THIS was the dress. It fit perfectly. She looked her age, yet, with a sophisticated flair. The sales girl brought an open toed shoe with a little black bow and matching black purse for the crowning touches. My girl was smiling again. And all for less than the purple dress!
I was thrilled and thankful.
Wondering how, as a mother, you keep the boundaries of appropriate attire when you see your child looking like a fairy princess while knowing the dress probably needs to be more conservative? So thankful, I could save that question for another day, another dance, another year?
Like I said - What a day!
The Help's Got Me Thinking......
I grew up in the South. Not the deep South depicted in the movie "The Help" but the South nonetheless. I was born in 1962 so I was just a baby during the era in the movie. I went to see it tonight with 2 of my children and it has me reflecting back on my childhood growing up - what I saw and didn't see or maybe didn't want to see. Are we just as guilty when we look the other way or don't stand up? I think maybe so.
Segregation wasn't as visible when I was growing up in Kentucky because of when I was born but it was still there on many levels. Or maybe it wasn't as visible because I wasn't really looking for it. Our hometown was the home of Kentucky State University but it was always spoken of as the "black college". I remember a conversation I overheard between my parents one time. We belonged to the local "all white" country club. The black President of Kentucky State had applied for membership and been denied. I remember hearing my parents talking about it but I don't remember them saying it was wrong. For well after I grew up and moved away there were still no black members of the country club despite the fact that there were many who could have afforded it.
I have to say that my grandparents were definitely racist. I recall a specific incident with my grandmother that has stuck in my mind all these years. My mother was upset about my grandmother's behavior but she would never stand up to her mother. I took dancing lessons at Miss Marcy's Dance Studio. Every year we had a big recital. I always looked forward to it. I think I was maybe 8 years old for this particular recital. Our ballet dance had each of us paired with another dancer. There was one little girl named Ashley in my class who was black. She was tall and thin and beautiful and a better dancer than me. Ashley and I were paired to dance together in the recital. I was excited. My grandmother was upset because she didn't like it at all. That year my grandmother didn't come to my dance recital. I have never forgot that. Maybe I was too young at the time but shouldn't I have said something to my grandmother? At what age does it become an obligation that you stand up for injustice?
When my father was young, in his late 20's and early 30's, he was racist in some ways too. He realized the error of his ways as he got older though. It wasn't that he didn't treat black people with respect. It was that he didn't want me dating or marrying a black man. When I was in junior high and high school he was always telling me that I wasn't allowed to date a black guy and if I did he would never speak to me again. At the time I was pretty sure he meant it. My freshman year in high school at a big basketball tournament in our town I met this really cute black boy from Washington, DC named Mike. I was flirting with him all weekend but wondering in the back of my mind what my Dad would do if he found out. I was afraid to ask him for his address so I could write him. Funny though I have never forgotten him and I've forgotten lots of other boys I met back then.
Seeing the maids in their uniforms tonight reminded me of parties I went to growing up. The Help would always be dressed in a nice crisp uniform like the actors in the movie. Often times at parties there were black men wearing white coats and white gloves while serving drinks from silver trays. It never occurred to me wonder what they were thinking - like Skeeter in the movie. And now I wonder what Dee and Birdie thought about all those parties they worked at all those years. Were the white people nice to them or did they treat them like second class citizens. I don't know because I wasn't paying attention. Sometimes I think that might even be a greater sin - not paying attention.
It really wasn't until after I graduated from college and moved to Texas that I really started understanding the racial legacy of my growing up years. There was both overt and covert racism all over the place. There was in Texas too but I actually started to notice it and be bothered by it. Dallas, Texas is still one of the most segregated cities in America. NPR did a multi-day piece on it about 10 or so years ago.
People don't talk about racism. It makes them uncomfortable. It would make me uncomfortable to talk about some of this with my black friends. Its hard to admit that you weren't paying attention when all this was going on. I think our generation has done a good job of raising mostly colorblind children but is that enough? I know my children are colorblind but there are still lots of people around who aren't.
I'm not sure how to correct the problem but I am pretty sure not talking about it won't help.
Segregation wasn't as visible when I was growing up in Kentucky because of when I was born but it was still there on many levels. Or maybe it wasn't as visible because I wasn't really looking for it. Our hometown was the home of Kentucky State University but it was always spoken of as the "black college". I remember a conversation I overheard between my parents one time. We belonged to the local "all white" country club. The black President of Kentucky State had applied for membership and been denied. I remember hearing my parents talking about it but I don't remember them saying it was wrong. For well after I grew up and moved away there were still no black members of the country club despite the fact that there were many who could have afforded it.
I have to say that my grandparents were definitely racist. I recall a specific incident with my grandmother that has stuck in my mind all these years. My mother was upset about my grandmother's behavior but she would never stand up to her mother. I took dancing lessons at Miss Marcy's Dance Studio. Every year we had a big recital. I always looked forward to it. I think I was maybe 8 years old for this particular recital. Our ballet dance had each of us paired with another dancer. There was one little girl named Ashley in my class who was black. She was tall and thin and beautiful and a better dancer than me. Ashley and I were paired to dance together in the recital. I was excited. My grandmother was upset because she didn't like it at all. That year my grandmother didn't come to my dance recital. I have never forgot that. Maybe I was too young at the time but shouldn't I have said something to my grandmother? At what age does it become an obligation that you stand up for injustice?
When my father was young, in his late 20's and early 30's, he was racist in some ways too. He realized the error of his ways as he got older though. It wasn't that he didn't treat black people with respect. It was that he didn't want me dating or marrying a black man. When I was in junior high and high school he was always telling me that I wasn't allowed to date a black guy and if I did he would never speak to me again. At the time I was pretty sure he meant it. My freshman year in high school at a big basketball tournament in our town I met this really cute black boy from Washington, DC named Mike. I was flirting with him all weekend but wondering in the back of my mind what my Dad would do if he found out. I was afraid to ask him for his address so I could write him. Funny though I have never forgotten him and I've forgotten lots of other boys I met back then.
Seeing the maids in their uniforms tonight reminded me of parties I went to growing up. The Help would always be dressed in a nice crisp uniform like the actors in the movie. Often times at parties there were black men wearing white coats and white gloves while serving drinks from silver trays. It never occurred to me wonder what they were thinking - like Skeeter in the movie. And now I wonder what Dee and Birdie thought about all those parties they worked at all those years. Were the white people nice to them or did they treat them like second class citizens. I don't know because I wasn't paying attention. Sometimes I think that might even be a greater sin - not paying attention.
It really wasn't until after I graduated from college and moved to Texas that I really started understanding the racial legacy of my growing up years. There was both overt and covert racism all over the place. There was in Texas too but I actually started to notice it and be bothered by it. Dallas, Texas is still one of the most segregated cities in America. NPR did a multi-day piece on it about 10 or so years ago.
People don't talk about racism. It makes them uncomfortable. It would make me uncomfortable to talk about some of this with my black friends. Its hard to admit that you weren't paying attention when all this was going on. I think our generation has done a good job of raising mostly colorblind children but is that enough? I know my children are colorblind but there are still lots of people around who aren't.
I'm not sure how to correct the problem but I am pretty sure not talking about it won't help.
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