IMO

This cartoon appeared in the paper several weeks ago. The message is directed at the global pandemic and its ramifications for us all.   It’s intent is clear, why can’t we work together?

Since its publication we’ve seen national attention brought to the movement, Black Lives Matter.  Some have countered with All Lives Matter or Blue Lives Matter.  The “matters” and  pandemic are impacting our social interactions and economy.  News reports are filled with stories related to all of these issues.  We receive information immediately.    The tellers would have us believe that everything is real. Its not.

Social media reeks with positions regarding all of the above.  People with, and without, personal agendas are constantly  posting, reposting, liking, tweeting, retweeting, hashtaging, and using  platforms to engage with their  followers.    Analytics  and  algorithms  are  monitoring traffic hoping their message will go viral .  It’s all too much, too fast.

My first recollection of a national issue took place in November of 1952.  My mom and dad had been talking about the presidential election.  As a five and a half year old, I knew nothing of such matters.  Mom explained as best she could, and I went to bed the evening of November 4th routing for “the soldier”.  I found out the next morning that he won.

I became a “polio pioneer” as a second grader, heard of a “cold war” during my upper elementary years, learned of Russia’s Sputnik One in October of 1957, followed by Sputnik 2 and  Laika, in November, read about the first seven American astronauts in Life Magazine in the fall of 1959 and watched my first presidential convention, and the subsequent debates, in 1960. I learned of these matters while listening to my parents and teachers, my aunts, uncles and grandparents, reading a bit, and watching TV.   I used the same methods to learn of the civil rights movement, peaceful protests, civil rights marches, sit-ins, and walk-outs.

My first conversation with friends regarding world issues took place on a walk to catechism in October of 1962.  President Kennedy appeared on television to speak about the Russians installing missiles in Cuba.  That was the first time  I became concerned for my safety and began to understand the ramifications of nuclear war.  That threat led to the  building of bomb shelters and drills in school that required us to crawl under our desks.  The shelters and desk drills were efforts to provide us hope.

The older I became, the more I listened.  The more I listened, the more I formed my own opinions.  I sorted and selected bits of information to form my personal beliefs.  They’re not always correct, but they’re always mine.  My first public debate took place during a catechism class with the Mother Superior at St. Dennis Church.  I was fifteen or sixteen.  We had been told that taking part in the ceremony of another church was a mortal sin.  I followed that revelation with a question, “You mean if my cousin asks me to be his best man in his wedding, and I honor his request, that’s a sin?”

“Is he Catholic?”

“No, he’s Baptist.”

“Then yes, it’s a sin.”  That exchange altered my religious life.

The first president I truly admired, was assassinated during my junior year of high school.  The citizens of the country stood shoulder to shoulder, and cried in each other’s arms, without taking pause for the color of each other’s skin.  That lasted about a week.

My college years featured discussions on a higher level. There were civil rights protests, draft dodgers, draft card and bra burnings, and riots in cities and towns across the land.  I didn’t protest, dodge, or burn.  The Detroit riot of 1967 was the closest I came to becoming physically involved.  I spent the night alone in the grocery store where I worked.  I was told to, “Call us at the first sign of trouble.”  There was none, so no call was made.  And during those years, two more national leaders were assassinated.

As an adult I’ve weathered economic recessions, pay freezes, energy crisees, wars in far    off lands, political differences, space shuttle failures, social conflicts, environmental change, and debates about whose God is best.  When the twin towers came down on 9-11 I watched in horror and disbelief that such a blow could strike so close to home.  I sat in silence hoping that this might trigger a time when America would come together as one.  That was the case for about three weeks, and then we began our domestic turmoil once again.

Through it all we moved forward.  I did my best to protect my family from each disturbance.  I spoke with students, staff, business leaders and community members regarding challenge after challenge.  When I was a child we had fire and tornado drills. After Columbine we developed plans for “gunmen in the building”, “active shooters” and “building lockdowns”.  I stood in the hallways in Britton with an expert who helped us identify “shooting lanes.”  And one Saturday night I sat for several hours in my office while Michigan State Troupers, and  Lenawee and Monroe County sheriff personnel, conducted “seek and capture or kill” drills in our school.

I’m concerned for my grandchildren.  Our current global health crisis may be the first of many.  Their lives have been disrupted like no other time I can recall.  We’re locked down and masked up in the name of health and social responsibility.  Meanwhile, people are marching in the street in not so peaceful protest.  I respect the right of dissenting opinions, but when the protesters destroy and kill that’s too much for me.  I don’t believe  tearing down statues, establishing cities within cities, providing monetary reparations for our past sins, renaming military installations, rebranding our pancake mix, or chiseling faces off of Mount Rushmore and Stone Mountain will bring about the change required.  Just like wearing masks, washing hands, and maintaining social distance may alter the course of the health crisis, engaging and respecting each others differences might bring about social change.  We must stop talking and start doing.

Moving forward you may find me  posting,  reposting, liking,  tweeting,  retweeting,  hashtaging, and using  platforms to engage with my  followers.  However, I won’t be using  analytics and algorithms to monitor traffic  hoping my message will go viral, because it’s all too much, too fast.  And I’m not really sure I have a message to share.

What I do have is a set of personal beliefs, and while I may not like it, some have been altered through social media.   They started long ago by listening to my parents and teachers, my aunts, uncles and grandparents, reading a bit, watching TV, and have been tweaked while speaking with friends. However,  I watch less “news” since Walter Cronkite passed, because he’s the last guy I trusted to tell it to me straight with his signature signoff, “And that’s the way it is.”

I’m open to sharing.   I won’t attempt to impose my beliefs on you, or bully my way into your brain, and I ask for the same in return.  When I have the opportunity, I’ll engage with Brady and Eva regarding the troubles of today.  I’ll do my best to listen first, and share my thoughts later, because their current challenges are just the tip of their iceberg.  IMO