Rep. Sydney Carlin
Out of a burning desire to escape religious and other persecution from their governments, and a desire to own property and to secure basic human rights, yesterday’s immigrants, the Germans, the English, Irish, Italians, Polish, and others, came to America and built communities of their families and close friends. They supported each other, provided work for each other and became a vital force in America in order to meet their everyday needs.
Philosophy and concepts of freedom from oppression built the United States of America, yet, today’s discussions and debates often are about who can participate in our communities and who cannot. Controversy, challenges and threats to our community, unwelcome changes that cause us to defend what we love, defense of ideals, and ideas build communities. Based on the very real threat of the Base Realignment and Closure Commission (BRAC) to the survival of our regional community this region, (FT Riley, Junction City, Manhattan, and the State of Kansas) came together to make absolutely certain that no other community would put forward a stronger show of support for her military base.
Today, as the U.S. Army moves families into our region, the Manhattan community embraces hundreds of new Ft Riley soldiers and their families, KSU students, and a growing list of new businesses that support them, to meet these needs. We are again building schools and playgrounds and opening child care facilities and creating jobs, jobs, jobs.
One of the most rewarding times with my young family was working on projects for the kid’s schools. The schools had so many needs and so little money. And as I reflect on how I see Community, I think need is the strongest component in building friendships and community.
When I think of the times that I felt closest to this community it was the times when I worked with others to meet common needs, to find solutions to a community concern. Times of Unwelcome Change often draw people together to defend the charm of the community or neighborhood 1988-2000 Jail CORP (Citizens Organized for Responsible Placement of the Jail) was formed by representatives of several downtown entities who felt that the old site just didn’t work for the future jail needs and did not correspond with current neighborhood uses.
A community was born! This created a connection between the School, the Church, the Downtown Business Community and the South Manhattan Neighborhood because fulfilled the need of (Jail CORP) Defending against the Jail in Downtown Manhattan.
Another time I felt a strong sense of community was when we united to face the challenges caused by the Flood of 1993. Manhattanites of all backgrounds stepped up to fight against the force of Nature. Businesses and individuals walked in with donations of food, water and equipment to the fire station. Boxes were packed and we sent them out to the neighborhoods where hundreds of volunteers worked tirelessly to fill sandbags ---and pass them down a chain of people ---to the place where walls were being built to hold back the floodwaters. We worked tirelessly to save homes and neighborhoods from the destruction of the rising waters of the flood. In all, 12 homes were lost and many took on some water, but because people were working together and everyone felt valuable, the community spirit was never better, tighter, or warmer.
Common Goals build leadership and leaders help to build and sustain our communities. But, we can all build community. It can be little things like reaching out to new neighbors, finding things in common, filling a need The bigger the community the more one tends to think that someone else is going to do it, but it has to be you, because it has to be everyone.
Jan Middendorf
I believe in the power of people. I also support the notion that “It takes a village to raise a child.” In my forty-six years, I have lived in 36 different places, in 3 countries, 9 states, 15 cities, and 2 villages. The process of adapting to these various places has fundamentally shaped my understanding of community, people, and place. These experiences broadened my appreciation and realization that we, as human beings, share a great deal of commonality across continents, irrespective of differences in culture, language or racial-ethnic background.
The commonality that I am referring to is the need to love and be loved, the need to hear and be heard, the need to feel safe, the need to cultivate connectedness with others, and the need to be empowered to shape one’s circumstances. While a Peace Corps volunteer, my husband and I helped carry a woman in labor out of a remote village on a handmade stretcher to the nearest village where she safely had her baby. The entire village was involved in the process of saving the mother and child, including the local dog leading the way. Without this collective effort it is possible that the mother and newborn would have died.
This type of compassion and caring is all around us… our own community is a good example. A few years ago my children’s school was in jeopardy of being closed. The idea of closing a vibrant and vital part of the neighborhood seemed absurd, given what we knew about the arguments for closure. The issue ignited a group of committed parents, teachers, and community members who spoke at School Board meetings, distributed yard signs, organized a community forum, put ads in the paper, wrote letters to the editor, and eventually the decision to close the school was rescinded. The good news was keeping the school open, the better news was watching and experiencing this impressive mobilization of concerned citizens working towards a common goal and all becoming closer because of it. It was the threat of the loss that brought us all together.
These experiences and others confirm a notion articulated by a former Superior Court Justice: “We don't accomplish anything in this world alone ... and whatever happens is the result of the whole tapestry of one's life and all the weavings of individual threads from one to another that creates something.” In summary, I believe that people everywhere want the power to shape their own circumstances. And the shared experience of coming together to change or improve something in the community then becomes part of the tapestry of the community and enhances it.
Gabriela Sabatés
I believe it is essential for any democratic country that professes to be such to ensure the well-being of ALL of its people. Specifically in the area of education, it is important that we adequately respond to the varied needs of our population. With the rapid demographic changes that we are experiencing in this country in general and in the state of Kansas in particular, our institutions are challenged with a task that they did not have to face ever before: educating a population that is essentially diverse in nature, with multifaceted linguistic and cultural backgrounds, and needs.
I believe that if we want to provide an excelling learning environment, the change must start at home. We must become learners ourselves, and move away from the “lugar del saber” (“place of knowledge”, “I-know-it-all” type of thinking). We must embrace the challenge to dive into and explore others’ realities. This is a time for openness and creativity, for leaving aside old recipes that are known to constrain people in rigid and dehumanizing categories.
I have been involved in the education and lives of many Latinas for many years now. They were my students, mentees, advisees, friends, and acquaintances. Some were also my colleagues, professors, and mentors. The experiences lived by Latina women are fully intertwined with my own -a Latina woman myself- creating a rich, colorful, complex, and powerful reality.
I am a middle class Latina woman, mother, spouse, daughter, sister, friend, doctoral student and colleague, who came to this country 17 years ago with very limited proficiency in English, who attended an Ivy League school when her English proficiency was still shaky, as a mother who raised a daughter bridging two cultures, a woman who is still existing in between two cultural worlds and is trying to bridge them, a person who deeply believes in true collaboration and communication.
I believe that in many institutions of higher education (IHE) there is the assumption that Latinas come to college under-prepared, with no clear goals, and that they are surely bound for academic failure. The commonly claimed reasons for Latinas’ social and educational “problems” are: that they come from a different culture, are females, speak English as a second language, come from a poor socioeconomic backgrounds, lack understanding about the U.S. educational system, lack intelligence and preparation, are lazy and uneducated, and -what is most handicapping- don’t have the motivation and determination to succeed.
I choose to believe that Latinas are women who are active “pensadoras” (thinkers) (González, 2001). and are immersed in a world that they are making into their own, who are brave enough to open their mouths and minds to express themselves, who have strong self-determination to create a new place of thinking and doing for their own and everybody else’s benefit, who defy the status quo and cultural “assumptions” with tenacity, who revolt against oppressing social order and search and propose other options that are more just, who assert their right to be in school and to bring their distinctive cultural assets to it. In sum, these women are “power-plants”, relentless generators of wisdom, imagination, and courage.
Such positive beliefs empower us to develop new, creative ways in which we respect, understand and educate our current learners with equity and purpose, to ensure social justice for all. It is equally important to continually educate ourselves, the university community, as an essential part of this ongoing process. In order to have a campus where true knowledge and cultural learning and awareness happen among ALL of its individuals, true communication and collaboration must happen between students, faculty, and administration continuously.
I believe that, if we really open up and make Latinas true participants in their own education, we will have an educational institution that acts upon its commitment to serve our diverse communities, and which enacts its land grant purpose with vision, dignity and courage. This surely involves risks that we cannot even foresee, but most importantly, gains for our entire communities that we can only dream of right now.
Community Essays
Monday, November 19, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
27 September 2007 Essays
Kathy Dzewaltowski
I think it’s important for each person to find something that interests him/her and to be passionate about it in our community.
I live in an older neighborhood, so issues pertaining to older neighborhoods are of great interest to me and have become something I am very passionate about. I have found that being committed to this one issue has led to my being involved with surprisingly many aspects of our community, including city ordinances, zoning regulations, city codes, issues with landlords and renters, affordable housing, the school district, historic preservation, and neighborhood associations.
There aren’t enough hours in the day for each of us to be informed and passionate about every issue in our community. That’s why I think if we each select one thing that is of interest to us and advocate for that issue, we will each become greater contributors to our community, make a difference in our community, and keep our community vibrant and dynamic. Manhattan saw recent examples of people being committed and passionate about a particular issue when large numbers of people turned out for City Commission meetings that discussed possible changes to smoking ordinances and dangerous dog ordinances. Your interests may not include older neighborhoods, smoking, or dangerous dogs. I’m sure there is something in your life that you are very interested in or concerned about, so let that interest guide you in becoming more involved in our community.
I also believe in the philosophy of “leave no stone unturned.” I think it’s far too easy these days to think, “I don’t want to ask,” “I don’t want to bother this person,” or “I don’t want to look foolish,” and the result is we close off options. Over the years of advocating for older neighborhoods, I’ve learned that it doesn’t hurt to ask, at worst, you might be told “no,” and I’m old enough to not worry too much anymore about looking foolish! I’d rather explore an avenue and find out that it’s a dead-end than wonder later “what if?”
It’s easy to make assumptions about how other people feel about an issue and think that you know what they’ll say if you ask for their help. You might find out that they actually think the same way as you and want to become involved. A few years back when I was involved with trying to keep my neighborhood school open, I had heard a rumor that one of my neighbors who didn’t even have children attending our school was possibly interested in being involved. He had not struck me as the “get involved” kind of person, so if I had stopped at the rumor and had assumed it was false, that would have been a dead-end. Instead, I decided what would the harm in calling him and talking to him directly? When I spoke to him, I found out he did want to be involved, he didn’t want a closed school in the neighborhood, and he just wanted some direction as to what would be the best way to help. He turned out to be very effective and influential when it came to explaining to others why it would not be a wise decision to close our neighborhood school.
For me, these two ideas—finding one thing that you’re passionate about and leaving no stone unturned—are connected. When you’re passionate about something and have a goal that you want to achieve, you have to try everything—leave no stone unturned. If you fail, at least you will know that you had put forth your best efforts and can be proud of that. Regardless of the outcome, you’ll have made connections, reached out to others, and found yourself very involved in our community.
Susan Marshall
Today, I would like to focus on two of my guiding principles as a current school board member – namely teachers and action.
First, I believe in teachers. And this isn’t just because I was a teacher, but rather because I think we often get sidetracked in our thinking about “what determines the success of a child’s education”. We as a community, state, and country tend to get too excited about the “bells and whistles” of new buildings and technology carts. And please don’t get me wrong, such things are important; but these “bells and whistles” are only as good as the teachers in the classroom. Teachers teach, period. The success of a child’s education is not going to be determined by “bells and whistles”, but rather the quality, enthusiasm, and caring of the teachers interacting with the students throughout their primary and secondary education. For me, teachers deserve more – more respect, more pay, and more time to plan their lessons.
Which leads me to my second guiding principle, action – and more specifically, I believe in the old adage “talk is cheap”. In general, it is far too easy these days to cast verbal stones from afar, and not take action or get involved. Bettering our community isn’t going to happen by simply wishing it so, or writing a negative blog, it will only happen if we as citizens of this community take action. Whether your action is speaking your beliefs at a City Commission or School Board meeting, volunteering at schools, or offering a helping hand to those less fortunate – act, stand up, and make a difference.
Now, our community is going to face some significant challenges over the next few years and we as citizens need to have our individual voices heard.
As a member of the School Board, I know that our community is facing serious issues regarding building repairs, space limitations, and salary increases – and a Bond issue is in the near future. I believe in this Board, and I believe we will do our best for this community. However, the resolution of these issues shouldn’t fall on the shoulders of seven board members and an advisory committee. It should fall on all of us. So, I challenge each of you to have your voice heard, come to a School Board meeting, contact your elected officials, get involved – simply put, act.
Flordie Pettis
I believe in a community that embraces peace and harmony. Its members practice charity and truth. Neighbors are full of life and vitality, balanced relationships are the rule not the exception, respecting the rights of others flourish and people demonstrate their feelings by their actions and dispositions. The ability to be agreeable for the good of the whole is also a visible characteristic.
The above is my model but comparatively my humble beginnings were as different as night and day.
I grew up in a community where harmony was nonexistent. I was born in rural Texas, the second of five children of sharecropper parents. Life was simple and uncomplicated until we moved to a nearby small town when I obtained a domestic job at the ripe old age of 12 or 13, babysitting a young white child.
One sunny afternoon the grandmother gave us money to buy ice cream and we jubilantly headed for the corner pharmacy. Unfortunately I made the decision to sit and eat in comfort but suddenly found myself being ejected from the premises to the delight and glee of other customers. It was a horrible feeling! At first there was emotional pain, then rage, and finally hatred. It was my first face-to-face encounter with discrimination and it was a lesson learned; my day off awakening and from that day forward I was always conscious of the "rules of the game:" look for signs "for colored only," or "for white only." Markers on restaurants, toilets, drinking fountains, cemeteries, and places too numerous to mention. Make a mistake and enter "whites only" and you could end up in jail.
Parents and Black teachers taught me how to survive. They also frequently reminded me that education paves the road to success. I took this advice seriously; books became my best friends.
Studying, combined with freedom marches and affiliations with civil rights organizations, were all invaluable experiences. I began to feel empowered. Speaking out and engaging others in dialogue became a manageable task. I was not always on the winning side but one of the greatest accomplishments was a winner, changes in voter rights. What a privledge to be free of voting barriers (and what a shame voter turn out is today). The rest of that era is history.
I relocated to Manhattan in 1963 only to discover they were struggling also. Interestingly times and places change quickly but the same can not be said about people because people like to play games. I can't recall the author's name, but I recommend the book: Games People Play. It is revealing but also helpful for understanding people's drama.
Communities across the nation, including Manhattan, continue to be confronted with issues that could pose threats to harmony. I try to stay aware and watch for opportunities to become involved as efforts are being made to find solutions that will sustain and maintain community harmony. I find it difficult to just sit when I know complacency can rob us, so I get involved. I read about it, think about it, and participate because I care; I've been there.
Con you dedicate yourself to your own little corner of the world to help make a difference?
To coin a little phrase, "Give your best to the world and the best will come back to you."
I think it’s important for each person to find something that interests him/her and to be passionate about it in our community.
I live in an older neighborhood, so issues pertaining to older neighborhoods are of great interest to me and have become something I am very passionate about. I have found that being committed to this one issue has led to my being involved with surprisingly many aspects of our community, including city ordinances, zoning regulations, city codes, issues with landlords and renters, affordable housing, the school district, historic preservation, and neighborhood associations.
There aren’t enough hours in the day for each of us to be informed and passionate about every issue in our community. That’s why I think if we each select one thing that is of interest to us and advocate for that issue, we will each become greater contributors to our community, make a difference in our community, and keep our community vibrant and dynamic. Manhattan saw recent examples of people being committed and passionate about a particular issue when large numbers of people turned out for City Commission meetings that discussed possible changes to smoking ordinances and dangerous dog ordinances. Your interests may not include older neighborhoods, smoking, or dangerous dogs. I’m sure there is something in your life that you are very interested in or concerned about, so let that interest guide you in becoming more involved in our community.
I also believe in the philosophy of “leave no stone unturned.” I think it’s far too easy these days to think, “I don’t want to ask,” “I don’t want to bother this person,” or “I don’t want to look foolish,” and the result is we close off options. Over the years of advocating for older neighborhoods, I’ve learned that it doesn’t hurt to ask, at worst, you might be told “no,” and I’m old enough to not worry too much anymore about looking foolish! I’d rather explore an avenue and find out that it’s a dead-end than wonder later “what if?”
It’s easy to make assumptions about how other people feel about an issue and think that you know what they’ll say if you ask for their help. You might find out that they actually think the same way as you and want to become involved. A few years back when I was involved with trying to keep my neighborhood school open, I had heard a rumor that one of my neighbors who didn’t even have children attending our school was possibly interested in being involved. He had not struck me as the “get involved” kind of person, so if I had stopped at the rumor and had assumed it was false, that would have been a dead-end. Instead, I decided what would the harm in calling him and talking to him directly? When I spoke to him, I found out he did want to be involved, he didn’t want a closed school in the neighborhood, and he just wanted some direction as to what would be the best way to help. He turned out to be very effective and influential when it came to explaining to others why it would not be a wise decision to close our neighborhood school.
For me, these two ideas—finding one thing that you’re passionate about and leaving no stone unturned—are connected. When you’re passionate about something and have a goal that you want to achieve, you have to try everything—leave no stone unturned. If you fail, at least you will know that you had put forth your best efforts and can be proud of that. Regardless of the outcome, you’ll have made connections, reached out to others, and found yourself very involved in our community.
Susan Marshall
Today, I would like to focus on two of my guiding principles as a current school board member – namely teachers and action.
First, I believe in teachers. And this isn’t just because I was a teacher, but rather because I think we often get sidetracked in our thinking about “what determines the success of a child’s education”. We as a community, state, and country tend to get too excited about the “bells and whistles” of new buildings and technology carts. And please don’t get me wrong, such things are important; but these “bells and whistles” are only as good as the teachers in the classroom. Teachers teach, period. The success of a child’s education is not going to be determined by “bells and whistles”, but rather the quality, enthusiasm, and caring of the teachers interacting with the students throughout their primary and secondary education. For me, teachers deserve more – more respect, more pay, and more time to plan their lessons.
Which leads me to my second guiding principle, action – and more specifically, I believe in the old adage “talk is cheap”. In general, it is far too easy these days to cast verbal stones from afar, and not take action or get involved. Bettering our community isn’t going to happen by simply wishing it so, or writing a negative blog, it will only happen if we as citizens of this community take action. Whether your action is speaking your beliefs at a City Commission or School Board meeting, volunteering at schools, or offering a helping hand to those less fortunate – act, stand up, and make a difference.
Now, our community is going to face some significant challenges over the next few years and we as citizens need to have our individual voices heard.
As a member of the School Board, I know that our community is facing serious issues regarding building repairs, space limitations, and salary increases – and a Bond issue is in the near future. I believe in this Board, and I believe we will do our best for this community. However, the resolution of these issues shouldn’t fall on the shoulders of seven board members and an advisory committee. It should fall on all of us. So, I challenge each of you to have your voice heard, come to a School Board meeting, contact your elected officials, get involved – simply put, act.
Flordie Pettis
I believe in a community that embraces peace and harmony. Its members practice charity and truth. Neighbors are full of life and vitality, balanced relationships are the rule not the exception, respecting the rights of others flourish and people demonstrate their feelings by their actions and dispositions. The ability to be agreeable for the good of the whole is also a visible characteristic.
The above is my model but comparatively my humble beginnings were as different as night and day.
I grew up in a community where harmony was nonexistent. I was born in rural Texas, the second of five children of sharecropper parents. Life was simple and uncomplicated until we moved to a nearby small town when I obtained a domestic job at the ripe old age of 12 or 13, babysitting a young white child.
One sunny afternoon the grandmother gave us money to buy ice cream and we jubilantly headed for the corner pharmacy. Unfortunately I made the decision to sit and eat in comfort but suddenly found myself being ejected from the premises to the delight and glee of other customers. It was a horrible feeling! At first there was emotional pain, then rage, and finally hatred. It was my first face-to-face encounter with discrimination and it was a lesson learned; my day off awakening and from that day forward I was always conscious of the "rules of the game:" look for signs "for colored only," or "for white only." Markers on restaurants, toilets, drinking fountains, cemeteries, and places too numerous to mention. Make a mistake and enter "whites only" and you could end up in jail.
Parents and Black teachers taught me how to survive. They also frequently reminded me that education paves the road to success. I took this advice seriously; books became my best friends.
Studying, combined with freedom marches and affiliations with civil rights organizations, were all invaluable experiences. I began to feel empowered. Speaking out and engaging others in dialogue became a manageable task. I was not always on the winning side but one of the greatest accomplishments was a winner, changes in voter rights. What a privledge to be free of voting barriers (and what a shame voter turn out is today). The rest of that era is history.
I relocated to Manhattan in 1963 only to discover they were struggling also. Interestingly times and places change quickly but the same can not be said about people because people like to play games. I can't recall the author's name, but I recommend the book: Games People Play. It is revealing but also helpful for understanding people's drama.
Communities across the nation, including Manhattan, continue to be confronted with issues that could pose threats to harmony. I try to stay aware and watch for opportunities to become involved as efforts are being made to find solutions that will sustain and maintain community harmony. I find it difficult to just sit when I know complacency can rob us, so I get involved. I read about it, think about it, and participate because I care; I've been there.
Con you dedicate yourself to your own little corner of the world to help make a difference?
To coin a little phrase, "Give your best to the world and the best will come back to you."
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Fall Schedule
We will begin again our Belief as Community Series with our Fall schedule. If you would like to be a guest, please contact Christopher at: renner@ksu.edu.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Essays from the 12 April Show
Eric Banner
I believe in the power of community. I believe that each of us, no matter how independent minded would do well to remember how much each day our lives depend on others. John Muir wrote "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe." And I do not believe that his insight was limited to the natural world with which he was so familiar. Three nights ago I was with my daughter at Family Reading Night at her elementary school, and I could not help but look around and remember all those that had built the school, those who had trained the teachers, those who had loved the parents there.
Community, to me, is about being hitched together, for better or worse, with those we share our world and our towns and our states and countries with. I believe that when we pretend that we can move far enough away, or distance ourselves enough from the sting of ugliness we only end up isolated ourselves. And then, like the poverty that now is more prevalent in our suburbs than in our central cities, it finds us anyway.
I believe that this means that we must all step up to serve in our communities. We will not all serve in the same ways, and so all that needs to be done will be done not by one, but by many. I take to heart the admonition of Edward Everett who said "I am only one, But still I am one. I cannot do everything, But still I can do something; And because I cannot do everything I will not refuse to do the something that I can do."
To me this is the fundamental thing behind community. I am here today because of those who came before me. I drive a car that was once my grandmother's; I live in a house that was built by people who have since died, and lived in by people who cared for it before me; I walk and talk in a body nourished and loved by those who took the time to listen to a little boy, knowing that he too had something to share. Someday I will leave behind the life I have lived, and others will follow. I believe it matters that I live so that when it is their time, they too will be able to share in the abundance of life. I believe in the power of community because I am here, and because I am here I believe that I must give back.
Layla Z. El-Chami
I believe in recognizing that things are not equal, even if we want them to be. We can all walk around pretending that we have a perfect campus. We assume that everyone gets along, and that for the most part things are fair. I can understand how students and faculty would be tempted to feed into these views, but they are incredibly idealistic. I believe that everyone needs a reality check.
The Multicultural Assistants in the residence halls just hosted a program titled Tunnel of Oppression. Groups of students traveled through a series of rooms addressing the following issues: religion, immigration, poverty, body image, sexual orientation, hate crimes, and Hurricane Katrina. In the processing room I heard many shocked reactions. Some were speechless. Others were surprised to learn that inequality takes many shapes and forms. Most were disturbed and uncomfortable to be confronted with such blatant expressions of racism, religious intolerance, and discrimination. We did not exaggerate these issues, we simply presented reality.
Tunnel of Oppression was very “in your face.” You cannot deny real pictures, real words, real stories. It was very visually tangible. As educational as this program was, I recognize its limitations. First of all, it did not reach the entire student body. It targeted students living in the residence halls, and a large amount of them were unable to attend. Second, for the students that did attend: I suspect that many of them are now aware of the issues on a larger scale, but do not realize that these problems are also local.
People fail to recognize discrimination when they are not directly affected by it. I feel as if this places a double burden on those who are targeted. Not only do they have to experience the prejudice, but then they are also forced into a position of educating their peers about its existence. This is tiresome task often met with disbelief, resistance, and even more discrimination.
I urge everyone to be proactive in three ways. First, recognize the inequalities on our campus and in society. It is a very real phenomenon. Second, do not assume that because you are not targeted then you must not be affected by it. You never know who you could meet and interact with. You never know how lives really are intertwined. You never know what you could be missing out on as a result of the injustices in life. Finally, educate yourselves on these issues. Step outside of your comfort zone. Do not be ignorant to reality.
Isaac Madison
I am a man who has not been perfect. I have done good and bad. Therefore it is my responsibility to correct the bad I have done in the past by working as hard as I can to do as much good as I can today.
I believe that there is still today a major division between white and black people in this town and in this country. That those who are in positions of law enforcement abuse their positions and wrongfully profile innocent members of our nation’s communities, based upon theories steeped in racist ideology.
I believe that the foundation our nation was built upon is faulty. That as a people we have been mis-educated to the point of believing and promoting an ideal that never was. A nation cannot be built upon the principles of freedom and justice for all, when portions of that same population are enslaved. We live in a time where people talk about responsibility but take little. Although no one here today was enslaved or owned slaves, the fact remains that those who are of the majority were allowed preferences based solely upon race for more than 300 years. These same preferences have allowed descendents of former slave owners and those who did not own slaves to benefit from a system designed to allow individuals rights and opportunities simply due to the color of their skin.
In fact the Supreme Court stripped black people of their very constitutional protections in a landmark case called Dred Scott v. Sandford. So while blacks had no rights a white man was bound to respect according to this decision, black enterprises were burned down, blacks were excluded from all institutions in this society, and some were murdered in acts we can only call acts of terror. In other words, the issue of race goes way past slavery.
For us to truly understand the scope, it must be said that this nation made legal what in South Africa was called apartheid and apartheid in America was legal until just 43 years ago. Therefore anyone, or descendents of anyone who did not fight Jim Crow apartheid, anyone who allowed it to continue and benefited from it in any way, to include simply being able to eat at in the restaurant instead of in the kitchen, is responsible for being a positive force in doing something about the unending problem of race in this country.
I believe there is only one race of people on this planet, the human race. That Satan causes confusion and that Satan does exist. And that it is Satan’s plan that has caused people to divide themselves up by skin color, while wondering why children ore being gunned down in the streets because they are wearing a different colored rag on their heads than other kids.
I believe that HIV/AIDS is the most pressing issue of our time. It has killed more people than so-called terrorist activities, it has no cure, and as a nation we have not done enough to make sure that those living here with it are taken care of, and that the general population protected against, the spread of this disease.
Policies based upon individual moral interpretations of words spoken in the bible do not erase the fact that people are dying now, and that we are to care for the sick, regardless of how they got sick. That letting people die because you do not approve of a certain lifestyle is just as much of an abomination as the abomination quoted so many times by those claiming that AIDS is Gods curse. It could be argued that the purposeful ignoring of the needs of individuals with HIV/AIDS, as well as the lack of a coordinated national strategy to combat the spread of the disease here in the U.S., is indeed a form of terrorism itself.
That God, or the creator by whatever name given is the real decider, no human can make that claim. Having said that, only the creator is the judge of who is living a good and righteous lifestyle, no human is capable of making such a critical analysis
That the billions we have spent on various wars and military build ups would have solved the issues that bother this nation today. In his book “Where do we go from Here, Chaos or Community,” written just before his death, Martin Luther King Jr said that for the price of a B1 bomber this country could erase poverty. That was 1968. Think about the problems we could solve for the price of 1 stealth bomber today.
So I believe that we need to change, and do so quickly or the place we live in now will not exist as we know it. But before I can ask anyone else to change, I must continuously strive to change myself.
I believe in the power of community. I believe that each of us, no matter how independent minded would do well to remember how much each day our lives depend on others. John Muir wrote "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe." And I do not believe that his insight was limited to the natural world with which he was so familiar. Three nights ago I was with my daughter at Family Reading Night at her elementary school, and I could not help but look around and remember all those that had built the school, those who had trained the teachers, those who had loved the parents there.
Community, to me, is about being hitched together, for better or worse, with those we share our world and our towns and our states and countries with. I believe that when we pretend that we can move far enough away, or distance ourselves enough from the sting of ugliness we only end up isolated ourselves. And then, like the poverty that now is more prevalent in our suburbs than in our central cities, it finds us anyway.
I believe that this means that we must all step up to serve in our communities. We will not all serve in the same ways, and so all that needs to be done will be done not by one, but by many. I take to heart the admonition of Edward Everett who said "I am only one, But still I am one. I cannot do everything, But still I can do something; And because I cannot do everything I will not refuse to do the something that I can do."
To me this is the fundamental thing behind community. I am here today because of those who came before me. I drive a car that was once my grandmother's; I live in a house that was built by people who have since died, and lived in by people who cared for it before me; I walk and talk in a body nourished and loved by those who took the time to listen to a little boy, knowing that he too had something to share. Someday I will leave behind the life I have lived, and others will follow. I believe it matters that I live so that when it is their time, they too will be able to share in the abundance of life. I believe in the power of community because I am here, and because I am here I believe that I must give back.
Layla Z. El-Chami
I believe in recognizing that things are not equal, even if we want them to be. We can all walk around pretending that we have a perfect campus. We assume that everyone gets along, and that for the most part things are fair. I can understand how students and faculty would be tempted to feed into these views, but they are incredibly idealistic. I believe that everyone needs a reality check.
The Multicultural Assistants in the residence halls just hosted a program titled Tunnel of Oppression. Groups of students traveled through a series of rooms addressing the following issues: religion, immigration, poverty, body image, sexual orientation, hate crimes, and Hurricane Katrina. In the processing room I heard many shocked reactions. Some were speechless. Others were surprised to learn that inequality takes many shapes and forms. Most were disturbed and uncomfortable to be confronted with such blatant expressions of racism, religious intolerance, and discrimination. We did not exaggerate these issues, we simply presented reality.
Tunnel of Oppression was very “in your face.” You cannot deny real pictures, real words, real stories. It was very visually tangible. As educational as this program was, I recognize its limitations. First of all, it did not reach the entire student body. It targeted students living in the residence halls, and a large amount of them were unable to attend. Second, for the students that did attend: I suspect that many of them are now aware of the issues on a larger scale, but do not realize that these problems are also local.
People fail to recognize discrimination when they are not directly affected by it. I feel as if this places a double burden on those who are targeted. Not only do they have to experience the prejudice, but then they are also forced into a position of educating their peers about its existence. This is tiresome task often met with disbelief, resistance, and even more discrimination.
I urge everyone to be proactive in three ways. First, recognize the inequalities on our campus and in society. It is a very real phenomenon. Second, do not assume that because you are not targeted then you must not be affected by it. You never know who you could meet and interact with. You never know how lives really are intertwined. You never know what you could be missing out on as a result of the injustices in life. Finally, educate yourselves on these issues. Step outside of your comfort zone. Do not be ignorant to reality.
Isaac Madison
I am a man who has not been perfect. I have done good and bad. Therefore it is my responsibility to correct the bad I have done in the past by working as hard as I can to do as much good as I can today.
I believe that there is still today a major division between white and black people in this town and in this country. That those who are in positions of law enforcement abuse their positions and wrongfully profile innocent members of our nation’s communities, based upon theories steeped in racist ideology.
I believe that the foundation our nation was built upon is faulty. That as a people we have been mis-educated to the point of believing and promoting an ideal that never was. A nation cannot be built upon the principles of freedom and justice for all, when portions of that same population are enslaved. We live in a time where people talk about responsibility but take little. Although no one here today was enslaved or owned slaves, the fact remains that those who are of the majority were allowed preferences based solely upon race for more than 300 years. These same preferences have allowed descendents of former slave owners and those who did not own slaves to benefit from a system designed to allow individuals rights and opportunities simply due to the color of their skin.
In fact the Supreme Court stripped black people of their very constitutional protections in a landmark case called Dred Scott v. Sandford. So while blacks had no rights a white man was bound to respect according to this decision, black enterprises were burned down, blacks were excluded from all institutions in this society, and some were murdered in acts we can only call acts of terror. In other words, the issue of race goes way past slavery.
For us to truly understand the scope, it must be said that this nation made legal what in South Africa was called apartheid and apartheid in America was legal until just 43 years ago. Therefore anyone, or descendents of anyone who did not fight Jim Crow apartheid, anyone who allowed it to continue and benefited from it in any way, to include simply being able to eat at in the restaurant instead of in the kitchen, is responsible for being a positive force in doing something about the unending problem of race in this country.
I believe there is only one race of people on this planet, the human race. That Satan causes confusion and that Satan does exist. And that it is Satan’s plan that has caused people to divide themselves up by skin color, while wondering why children ore being gunned down in the streets because they are wearing a different colored rag on their heads than other kids.
I believe that HIV/AIDS is the most pressing issue of our time. It has killed more people than so-called terrorist activities, it has no cure, and as a nation we have not done enough to make sure that those living here with it are taken care of, and that the general population protected against, the spread of this disease.
Policies based upon individual moral interpretations of words spoken in the bible do not erase the fact that people are dying now, and that we are to care for the sick, regardless of how they got sick. That letting people die because you do not approve of a certain lifestyle is just as much of an abomination as the abomination quoted so many times by those claiming that AIDS is Gods curse. It could be argued that the purposeful ignoring of the needs of individuals with HIV/AIDS, as well as the lack of a coordinated national strategy to combat the spread of the disease here in the U.S., is indeed a form of terrorism itself.
That God, or the creator by whatever name given is the real decider, no human can make that claim. Having said that, only the creator is the judge of who is living a good and righteous lifestyle, no human is capable of making such a critical analysis
That the billions we have spent on various wars and military build ups would have solved the issues that bother this nation today. In his book “Where do we go from Here, Chaos or Community,” written just before his death, Martin Luther King Jr said that for the price of a B1 bomber this country could erase poverty. That was 1968. Think about the problems we could solve for the price of 1 stealth bomber today.
So I believe that we need to change, and do so quickly or the place we live in now will not exist as we know it. But before I can ask anyone else to change, I must continuously strive to change myself.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Essays from the 15 March 07 show
Catherine Hedge
An hour after midnight, four months ago, I stroked the sticky cheek of my newborn grandson. He cried, his chin quivering as the nurses attached his bracelets and inked his feet. I overheard his daddy telling my daughter, “You’re perfect, Baby. He’s beautiful!” At that instant, I knew my grandson inherited a great gift. He will be raised by parents who believe he is wonderful…limitless.
One of my favorite people, the late Leonard Bishop, used to talk about the effects of that hope in self. He grew up in desperate inner-city poverty. He used to tell my middle school students about growing up dyslexic and then becoming a best-selling author. He said, “ I knew that this one part of me didn’t work…the reading part…but somehow I knew the rest of me was brilliant.”
This I believe: the greatest treasure we can give our children is trust in their own potential. Our greatest responsibility is providing the resources, skills, and opportunities to develop their talents.
We have an incredible resource in the United States, but we squander it. Through ignorance, poverty, prejudice, and unequal expectations, we waste those we deem not worthy.
The Kansas Health Foundation lists assets every person needs to thrive: Support from people who care; a sense of self; boundaries; and a commitment to learning. Children who do not have these assets are often our dropouts, criminals, and victims. They trust in fate, not their own choices. When given a risky proposition, they will answer, “No one cares if somethin’ happens to me.”
Every child is like a chunk of marble at first. Some are gently chipped and shaped, polished to a sheen. I see it the first day they walk into the classroom. A twelve-year-old bounces into the room and looks me straight in the eye, “Hi! I’m Howard. That’s a cool poster over there. I love Volcanoes!”
After him comes a girl with greasy bangs covering her eyes. I can feel her darting glance while she heads for the corner seat. The sculptors have been unkind to her. With a million tiny blows, or some chiseled attacks, life chips away at her until she cracks.
There are grand and important ways we can help our children…improving schools, healthcare, and raising the huge numbers of youth out of poverty. That change will come. Eventually.
But my grandson is here…now. And so is the girl with the broken spirit.
They can’t wait. No child should wait.
For them, I promise this:
I will turn to face a child who is talking to me.
I will ask instead of tell.
I will wait instead of run.
I will smile.
I will believe.
Jeff Levin
My story takes place in the late 60’s in my hometown of Manhattan, KS. Ours was an all-white neighborhood not too far from the University. It was a lazy, hot summer day and a group of us were hanging out at the local grade school across from the little corner grocery. Eating our favorite candies we were bored and itching for something to do.
About then a group of black kids came lolling along on their bicycles. They too had stocked up at OUR grocery store. Who knew from where they came. Maybe six, eight blocks away. At that age that was as good as clear across town. I don’t know who taunted who first but soon we were engaged in a verbal battle only like grade schoolers can do.
“Fathead” “Butt Face” “Stinky”
This wasn’t going anywhere fast and soon the salvo of words turned meaner and meaner. Like the captain defending my troops and the honor of my neighborhood, I took the lead. I pulled from my arsenal the ultimate word. I shot them with the N-word. Bulls-eye! Most of them quit yelling. Another shot and they were all quiet. I opened up with a machine gun staccato.
“N, N, N, N, N”
I turned to my friends, my very ashen friends, to smile and relish our verbal victory. Suddenly I was face to face with 3, maybe 4 of those kids. I don’t think they spent half a minute punching, kicking and knocking me to the ground. And off they sped on their bikes.
Humiliated and hurt I knew I had to call in for the ultimate support: MOM.
Mom would defend me and make things right. No sooner had I shared with her how these kids came from nowhere to beat up her son that we were in the car racing to stop them.
“There they are!” I yelled.
“Stay in the car.” She said as she whipped in front of them.
The drop of their shoulders signaled defeat. The glare and voice of my mother would surely melt them away. So deep was I in my smug thoughts I didn’t hear my mother the first time.
“What did you call them? Get out here right now!”
What is this? The N-word is not acceptable? My mother is making ME apologize to each and every one of THEM? Back in the car and yelling at me about being ashamed, so ashamed.
That was the day my mother taught me a real life lesson.
You see, I learned and I believe that doing the right thing is thicker than blood.
My mother took me from humility, to shame, to understanding the power of words. Be it N-word, F-word, whatever. She stood up for the greater good.
I have for years dwelt on that day with embarrassment and guilt. My physical injuries were gone in days but the verbal injury I inflicted surely stayed for years.
But I did learn that day, even though I wouldn’t know it for a long time is that:
What I teach MY children, I teach my children’s children.
An hour after midnight, four months ago, I stroked the sticky cheek of my newborn grandson. He cried, his chin quivering as the nurses attached his bracelets and inked his feet. I overheard his daddy telling my daughter, “You’re perfect, Baby. He’s beautiful!” At that instant, I knew my grandson inherited a great gift. He will be raised by parents who believe he is wonderful…limitless.
One of my favorite people, the late Leonard Bishop, used to talk about the effects of that hope in self. He grew up in desperate inner-city poverty. He used to tell my middle school students about growing up dyslexic and then becoming a best-selling author. He said, “ I knew that this one part of me didn’t work…the reading part…but somehow I knew the rest of me was brilliant.”
This I believe: the greatest treasure we can give our children is trust in their own potential. Our greatest responsibility is providing the resources, skills, and opportunities to develop their talents.
We have an incredible resource in the United States, but we squander it. Through ignorance, poverty, prejudice, and unequal expectations, we waste those we deem not worthy.
The Kansas Health Foundation lists assets every person needs to thrive: Support from people who care; a sense of self; boundaries; and a commitment to learning. Children who do not have these assets are often our dropouts, criminals, and victims. They trust in fate, not their own choices. When given a risky proposition, they will answer, “No one cares if somethin’ happens to me.”
Every child is like a chunk of marble at first. Some are gently chipped and shaped, polished to a sheen. I see it the first day they walk into the classroom. A twelve-year-old bounces into the room and looks me straight in the eye, “Hi! I’m Howard. That’s a cool poster over there. I love Volcanoes!”
After him comes a girl with greasy bangs covering her eyes. I can feel her darting glance while she heads for the corner seat. The sculptors have been unkind to her. With a million tiny blows, or some chiseled attacks, life chips away at her until she cracks.
There are grand and important ways we can help our children…improving schools, healthcare, and raising the huge numbers of youth out of poverty. That change will come. Eventually.
But my grandson is here…now. And so is the girl with the broken spirit.
They can’t wait. No child should wait.
For them, I promise this:
I will turn to face a child who is talking to me.
I will ask instead of tell.
I will wait instead of run.
I will smile.
I will believe.
Jeff Levin
My story takes place in the late 60’s in my hometown of Manhattan, KS. Ours was an all-white neighborhood not too far from the University. It was a lazy, hot summer day and a group of us were hanging out at the local grade school across from the little corner grocery. Eating our favorite candies we were bored and itching for something to do.
About then a group of black kids came lolling along on their bicycles. They too had stocked up at OUR grocery store. Who knew from where they came. Maybe six, eight blocks away. At that age that was as good as clear across town. I don’t know who taunted who first but soon we were engaged in a verbal battle only like grade schoolers can do.
“Fathead” “Butt Face” “Stinky”
This wasn’t going anywhere fast and soon the salvo of words turned meaner and meaner. Like the captain defending my troops and the honor of my neighborhood, I took the lead. I pulled from my arsenal the ultimate word. I shot them with the N-word. Bulls-eye! Most of them quit yelling. Another shot and they were all quiet. I opened up with a machine gun staccato.
“N, N, N, N, N”
I turned to my friends, my very ashen friends, to smile and relish our verbal victory. Suddenly I was face to face with 3, maybe 4 of those kids. I don’t think they spent half a minute punching, kicking and knocking me to the ground. And off they sped on their bikes.
Humiliated and hurt I knew I had to call in for the ultimate support: MOM.
Mom would defend me and make things right. No sooner had I shared with her how these kids came from nowhere to beat up her son that we were in the car racing to stop them.
“There they are!” I yelled.
“Stay in the car.” She said as she whipped in front of them.
The drop of their shoulders signaled defeat. The glare and voice of my mother would surely melt them away. So deep was I in my smug thoughts I didn’t hear my mother the first time.
“What did you call them? Get out here right now!”
What is this? The N-word is not acceptable? My mother is making ME apologize to each and every one of THEM? Back in the car and yelling at me about being ashamed, so ashamed.
That was the day my mother taught me a real life lesson.
You see, I learned and I believe that doing the right thing is thicker than blood.
My mother took me from humility, to shame, to understanding the power of words. Be it N-word, F-word, whatever. She stood up for the greater good.
I have for years dwelt on that day with embarrassment and guilt. My physical injuries were gone in days but the verbal injury I inflicted surely stayed for years.
But I did learn that day, even though I wouldn’t know it for a long time is that:
What I teach MY children, I teach my children’s children.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Essays from the 15 February 07 Show
Jayme Morris-Hardeman
There was a time I believed I could single-handedly save the world. I was twenty-five years old and had recently changed careers from scientist to child advocate in an attempt to live my belief. I was an idealist.
Over the past eight years, I have worked with hundreds of volunteers who have given their time to advocate for abused and neglected children in our community. I have also volunteered personally and have worked directly with twelve children who have experiences most people couldn’t imagine. There was the three-year-old boy who was punched in the eye by his mother as discipline. The children whose mentally ill mother threatened to kill them. The six year old who had become the parent to his baby brother while his mother and her boyfriend were drunk or high on crack. The infant who was born as the sixth child to a mother who was a drug addict and had lost custody of the other five. And finally, the teenager who had been in and out of foster care for the majority of her life and was soon to age out of the system at age 18 without a permanent family or much of a support system. In each situation, I started with the belief I had the ability to change their lives and ended wondering if I had made a difference.
When children come from backgrounds of chaos and instability, it is so difficult to help them make lasting changes. I have worked directly with two children who aged out of foster care at age 18 and are destined to become the parents of the next generation of children in the system. Change a few circumstances, and their story could be that of many of the parents I have worked with over the years. They started their lives behind the curve – exposed to alcohol and drugs before they were even born. In the five or six years before they entered foster care, they experienced a great deal of violence and inconsistency. They learned that the world is not a friendly place and that trust is dangerous. They were responsible for the care of younger siblings, and sometimes for the care of their parents. In foster care, they were exposed to further abuse and a cycle of returning to their mothers’ care, only to be placed back into foster care when it became apparent their mothers hadn’t really learned to be adequate parents or to put their needs first. One of these children lived in 20 different homes by the time they turned 18. They were split from their siblings at some point, despite the fact that their closest bond was with their siblings, not their parents.
Helping children and parents from this background is like a roller coaster ride. There are periods of calm and apparent stability – I rejoice whenever one of these young adults finds a job they can keep for more than a week or have a stable home for more than a month. I have helped them celebrate when they stayed sober for two months at a time. There is a glimmer of hope that change is possible and then the devastation is even more dramatic when they return to a life of chaos – jobs are lost because they just can’t get along with the boss, they are evicted because they spent their rent money on drugs or because the police came to their home too many times for domestic violence calls. They stop going to therapy and taking their medication and turn to alcohol and drugs to self-medicate. Then a few months later, they try again for the stable life they crave but don’t know how to maintain.
Working directly with children and parents from these backgrounds, it’s easy to lose hope – to wonder if there is any way to break the cycle. Occasionally, the chance to break the cycle does present itself. The baby taken away from the mother who lost five previous children was adopted by her foster family at age two. The three-year-old punched in the eye by his mother was adopted when he was six. However, the window of opportunity for change closes a little more with each passing year.
I’ve come to realize that I can make a difference for individual children. However, I’ve had to revise my belief that I can save the world. I believe it is important to try and make whatever difference I can for the limited number of children I can work with. Even if only one child can break out of the cycle of abuse and neglect, it is worth the effort.
Fr. Matt Cobb
For Padre Matthew Cobb, the Divine Reality is immanent, all pervasive, and transcendent.
Psalm 139 echoes the milieu of compassion and wisdom that we flow through during our short visit to human personhood. The cantor fills his lungs with precious oxygen. He feels the beat of innate rhythm in the center of his body. The words come into his conscious mind and fulfill all desires. His tongue takes form to shape the container which vibrates, and love springs out. I hear the cantor sing the Psalm that enlightens my awareness to complete bliss. My favorite verse ever sounded in space and time enters into my body, animating the human spirit. By hearing, I now embody the verse that awakens and inspires me to be fully alive. So, listen to what that cantor sings in the innermost depths of the Heart of my heart: “If I say, ‘Let the darkness cover me; and my day be turned to night, the darkness is no darkness with you, but the night is as clear as the day; for darkness and light to you are both alike.”
When practicing the presence of the Divine Reality, I often and only need remember this simple turn of verse. By remembering, I AM, the embodiment of the Divine Reality that is in, within, and beyond each moment. Moreover, I am coming to know that great person of the brightness of the luminous emptiness. For it is only by awakening to that person, that we are capable of self-transcending to our most authentic self. We learn to self-transcend through stretching our hearts wide and yielding to that great person. However, we often believe that we are being stretched by another against our will. Kindly remember that, we have to say ‘yes’ before any heart can be stretched open. We are always free to be unstretchable. Yet, when suffering and the causes of suffering provide an opportunity to move through another impasse, we may choose to remember to rejoice and sing again that ancient song: “If I say, ‘Let the darkness cover me; and my day be turned to night, the darkness is no darkness with you, but the night is as clear as the day; for darkness and light to you are both alike.”
For all who have heard this sounding of thoughts, may the darkness of this present hour not overwhelm you with despair, but free you from the prison of never looking inward to listen for once and for all. And, if you truly want to be free, then look inward and discover the mystery of how much you already know and have. Dare to look inward, more and more and you will need and want less and less.
Cathy Dawes
I believe there are no guarantees. Even with my Presbyterian up-bringing, I probably sensed this most of my life and have become more convinced of this philosophy as I grow older. As a child, my life was somewhat sheltered. At that time it almost seemed there was a routine to the way life worked–meals, naps, and bedtimes at designated hours...piano lessons, musical programs, classes, student council and pep club meetings, softball games, church. But along the way, I began to discover that whenever people are part of the equation, events can head a whole different direction than one anticipates. Boyfriend number one certainly made that clear. He became my husband of 17 years and the father of two of my children–but when the perfect family and happily ever-after scenario fell through, it became clear there were no guarantees. The death of my second husband before he properly reached middle age was another clear sign of no guarantees. And my line of work has certainly confirmed my philosophy. One never knows in the news business what people might do–one of my favorite sayings is “We couldn’t possibly make THAT up.” Examples might include the bank robber who steals a car only to discover it’s a stick shift he doesn’t know how to operate, the woman who fakes her own kidnaping to get out of a marriage.... On a more serious note, there’s tragic examples, including the young college student with her life ahead of her who dies in a car crash that’s not her fault, the young mother of three who becomes a victim of cancer, the promising athlete who loses a leg in a motorcycle accident. No, there are no guarantees. But then, there’s also the unexpected stories that gives one hope... the person who risks his life to save a child in a burning car, the soldier who overcomes amputations to participate in a triathlon, the person who gives up an organ to help another in dire need. And even on a more personal level, there’s the unexpected friendships with unlikely persons.. The friend whose sleep schedule is the exact opposite of yours but who is always there for you, the younger friend who makes you see life from a fresh perspective, the friend who shares some of the same hurts and emptiness you have known. No, there are no guarantees–but when it comes right down to it, that’s what makes life interesting... even fun and exciting at times. So I’ll continue to live each day, with no guarantees, wondering what the next day might bring.
There was a time I believed I could single-handedly save the world. I was twenty-five years old and had recently changed careers from scientist to child advocate in an attempt to live my belief. I was an idealist.
Over the past eight years, I have worked with hundreds of volunteers who have given their time to advocate for abused and neglected children in our community. I have also volunteered personally and have worked directly with twelve children who have experiences most people couldn’t imagine. There was the three-year-old boy who was punched in the eye by his mother as discipline. The children whose mentally ill mother threatened to kill them. The six year old who had become the parent to his baby brother while his mother and her boyfriend were drunk or high on crack. The infant who was born as the sixth child to a mother who was a drug addict and had lost custody of the other five. And finally, the teenager who had been in and out of foster care for the majority of her life and was soon to age out of the system at age 18 without a permanent family or much of a support system. In each situation, I started with the belief I had the ability to change their lives and ended wondering if I had made a difference.
When children come from backgrounds of chaos and instability, it is so difficult to help them make lasting changes. I have worked directly with two children who aged out of foster care at age 18 and are destined to become the parents of the next generation of children in the system. Change a few circumstances, and their story could be that of many of the parents I have worked with over the years. They started their lives behind the curve – exposed to alcohol and drugs before they were even born. In the five or six years before they entered foster care, they experienced a great deal of violence and inconsistency. They learned that the world is not a friendly place and that trust is dangerous. They were responsible for the care of younger siblings, and sometimes for the care of their parents. In foster care, they were exposed to further abuse and a cycle of returning to their mothers’ care, only to be placed back into foster care when it became apparent their mothers hadn’t really learned to be adequate parents or to put their needs first. One of these children lived in 20 different homes by the time they turned 18. They were split from their siblings at some point, despite the fact that their closest bond was with their siblings, not their parents.
Helping children and parents from this background is like a roller coaster ride. There are periods of calm and apparent stability – I rejoice whenever one of these young adults finds a job they can keep for more than a week or have a stable home for more than a month. I have helped them celebrate when they stayed sober for two months at a time. There is a glimmer of hope that change is possible and then the devastation is even more dramatic when they return to a life of chaos – jobs are lost because they just can’t get along with the boss, they are evicted because they spent their rent money on drugs or because the police came to their home too many times for domestic violence calls. They stop going to therapy and taking their medication and turn to alcohol and drugs to self-medicate. Then a few months later, they try again for the stable life they crave but don’t know how to maintain.
Working directly with children and parents from these backgrounds, it’s easy to lose hope – to wonder if there is any way to break the cycle. Occasionally, the chance to break the cycle does present itself. The baby taken away from the mother who lost five previous children was adopted by her foster family at age two. The three-year-old punched in the eye by his mother was adopted when he was six. However, the window of opportunity for change closes a little more with each passing year.
I’ve come to realize that I can make a difference for individual children. However, I’ve had to revise my belief that I can save the world. I believe it is important to try and make whatever difference I can for the limited number of children I can work with. Even if only one child can break out of the cycle of abuse and neglect, it is worth the effort.
Fr. Matt Cobb
For Padre Matthew Cobb, the Divine Reality is immanent, all pervasive, and transcendent.
Psalm 139 echoes the milieu of compassion and wisdom that we flow through during our short visit to human personhood. The cantor fills his lungs with precious oxygen. He feels the beat of innate rhythm in the center of his body. The words come into his conscious mind and fulfill all desires. His tongue takes form to shape the container which vibrates, and love springs out. I hear the cantor sing the Psalm that enlightens my awareness to complete bliss. My favorite verse ever sounded in space and time enters into my body, animating the human spirit. By hearing, I now embody the verse that awakens and inspires me to be fully alive. So, listen to what that cantor sings in the innermost depths of the Heart of my heart: “If I say, ‘Let the darkness cover me; and my day be turned to night, the darkness is no darkness with you, but the night is as clear as the day; for darkness and light to you are both alike.”
When practicing the presence of the Divine Reality, I often and only need remember this simple turn of verse. By remembering, I AM, the embodiment of the Divine Reality that is in, within, and beyond each moment. Moreover, I am coming to know that great person of the brightness of the luminous emptiness. For it is only by awakening to that person, that we are capable of self-transcending to our most authentic self. We learn to self-transcend through stretching our hearts wide and yielding to that great person. However, we often believe that we are being stretched by another against our will. Kindly remember that, we have to say ‘yes’ before any heart can be stretched open. We are always free to be unstretchable. Yet, when suffering and the causes of suffering provide an opportunity to move through another impasse, we may choose to remember to rejoice and sing again that ancient song: “If I say, ‘Let the darkness cover me; and my day be turned to night, the darkness is no darkness with you, but the night is as clear as the day; for darkness and light to you are both alike.”
For all who have heard this sounding of thoughts, may the darkness of this present hour not overwhelm you with despair, but free you from the prison of never looking inward to listen for once and for all. And, if you truly want to be free, then look inward and discover the mystery of how much you already know and have. Dare to look inward, more and more and you will need and want less and less.
Cathy Dawes
I believe there are no guarantees. Even with my Presbyterian up-bringing, I probably sensed this most of my life and have become more convinced of this philosophy as I grow older. As a child, my life was somewhat sheltered. At that time it almost seemed there was a routine to the way life worked–meals, naps, and bedtimes at designated hours...piano lessons, musical programs, classes, student council and pep club meetings, softball games, church. But along the way, I began to discover that whenever people are part of the equation, events can head a whole different direction than one anticipates. Boyfriend number one certainly made that clear. He became my husband of 17 years and the father of two of my children–but when the perfect family and happily ever-after scenario fell through, it became clear there were no guarantees. The death of my second husband before he properly reached middle age was another clear sign of no guarantees. And my line of work has certainly confirmed my philosophy. One never knows in the news business what people might do–one of my favorite sayings is “We couldn’t possibly make THAT up.” Examples might include the bank robber who steals a car only to discover it’s a stick shift he doesn’t know how to operate, the woman who fakes her own kidnaping to get out of a marriage.... On a more serious note, there’s tragic examples, including the young college student with her life ahead of her who dies in a car crash that’s not her fault, the young mother of three who becomes a victim of cancer, the promising athlete who loses a leg in a motorcycle accident. No, there are no guarantees. But then, there’s also the unexpected stories that gives one hope... the person who risks his life to save a child in a burning car, the soldier who overcomes amputations to participate in a triathlon, the person who gives up an organ to help another in dire need. And even on a more personal level, there’s the unexpected friendships with unlikely persons.. The friend whose sleep schedule is the exact opposite of yours but who is always there for you, the younger friend who makes you see life from a fresh perspective, the friend who shares some of the same hurts and emptiness you have known. No, there are no guarantees–but when it comes right down to it, that’s what makes life interesting... even fun and exciting at times. So I’ll continue to live each day, with no guarantees, wondering what the next day might bring.
Eassys from the 25 January 07 Show
The second show featured Barbara Brooke Bascom, Deb Nuss and Jim Sherow.
Barbara Brooke Bascom, MD
I believe in Looky-Loos. I guess that means I believe in myself – a little – because my children called me Looky Loo when I stopped look and listen in the midst of some activity. Children know, even children who don’t read Highlights – those delightful newsletters for kids that have puzzles and hidden objects imbedded in pictures, tips about manners by Goofus & Gallant, and stories about Looky Loos, maddening lovable creatures whose noses are always pasted to windows and who notice everything, even things they aren’t supposed to notice.
When I went to Romania and first visited orphanages and institutions for children and disabled adults considered “unsalvageable”, when I saw row after row of rusty cribs holding thousands of children who were disfigured or dying, I had a real crisis of faith and could no longer accept an omniscient power that would allow this to happen to children. But I couldn’t stop looking and I couldn’t leave. I looked at the awful places, the dead radiators, the empty kitchens and cupboards, I saw children being beaten, starved, taunted and tortured, neglected, spending short lives incarcerated in places that were designed to “allow” them to die of “natural causes” from cold, untreated medical problems, injury and starvation. By then, I was a professional Looky Loo, old enough to remember institutions in America, so I knew what I was looking at. And I knew what was needed.
I believe we need to be in very dark places so we can see the smallest lights and know that something lives and is vibrant and flourishing, even in the most hideous environments. My little lights – Luminita in Romanian – came from children. I believe in children. I believe in the mysterious, powerful force we call the human spirit. In every institution, no matter how deadly, there were little bands of surviving children – children who had created a life, invented a surrogate family, children who loved, laughed, sang together, who protected each other, shared food and blankets, had a social code of honor, developed - and never betrayed – a trust. Somehow, without any outside assistance, these children had found a way not only to survive but to thrive. As I lived and worked with these children, they shared with me, in the gentlest of ways, both the atrocity and the joy of their existence. I lost all pretense of objectivity but was as intrigued and challenged intellectually as I was drawn to them emotionally.
Survival was very tied to two factors: mobility and social attachment / friendship. Thriving, however, was entirely dependent on friendship. During my last visit to Romania, Nicoleta, a beloved young friend from one institution, sang me her favorite song. I asked for a translation of the chorus lyrics: “I love so that I may live, I live so that I may love.”
I believe in the human spirit. I believe children come into the world with an innate, powerful driving force to live and to share life lovingly with others. I believe this because I have witnessed it, in some small way have been part of it, have seen it in action. This enlightenment changed me fundamentally, changed the way I think about healing and helping others. I’m glad I am a Looky Loo, that I continued to look for the Luminita in Romania’s institutions.
I believe that, however hateful or atrocious the situation, to look and listen is imperative, that we must never look away or avert our gaze, and never forget what we’ve seen.
Debbie L. Nuss
I believe in the values of reciprocity, stewardship, responsibility, citizenship, civic virtue, and love. These values probably best describe how I try to take care and give care in all that I do.
While important throughout my life, these values have meant different things to me at different times and some have been more important than others at different stages of my life. As a child, I can imagine that some days reciprocity meant the Golden Rule in its truest sense -- “Do onto others as you would wish them do onto you.” Yet on other days its meaning might have been more like “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth;” negative reciprocity, so to speak. As a pre-adolescent, I am proud to look back and realize reciprocity remained important, but responsibility was a value I also took very seriously. As an adolescent I probably took the value of love too seriously because it was influenced more by my hormones rather than by my heart and soul. As a young adult, I more fully recognized the values of stewardship, citizenship, and civic virtue as I became more politically and socially aware and active during my college years. But, it wasn’t until I was a more mature adult – during our child-rearing years – that I was able to recognize that these values combined had helped to shape who I am, what I think, and why.
It was during this time, as my husband and I worked to instill our values in our children that I recognized that the value instilled in me most strongly as a child was the ethic of reciprocity. I realized that it was important to me to live in a community and raise our children and where that was important too. The Midwest and specifically Manhattan, Kansas has been that community.
The ethic of reciprocity is more than the Golden Rule “do onto others” mantra – it is the simple belief that every person shares certain inherent human rights simply because of their membership in the human race. People individually are very different; they come in two main genders, different sizes, colors, and shapes; many races; three sexual orientations; and different degrees of ability. They follow many religious and economic systems, speak many languages, and follow many different cultures.
I believe children inherently know the ethic of reciprocity, but something happens to that inherent wisdom as they grow up; they lose it, or at least a good portion of it. It seems as of late that children and families who are involved in certain organized religions are oftentimes convinced that the ethic of reciprocity does not apply to all human beings, but only to their fellow believers – a class system, so to speak, exists.
And thus something else I believe is that the greatest failure of organized religion is its historical inability to apply the ethic of reciprocity to all humans. It is my belief, and a belief shared by many, that religions should stress that their membership use the ethic of reciprocity when dealing with persons of other religions, the other gender, other races, other sexual orientations, any “otherness.” Not doing so sends the wrong message to our children and creates a future that will continue to be filled with religiously-related oppression, discrimination, or perhaps even worse.
Jim Sherow
I believe in stars, and that’s why I’m glad to live in Kansas. Ad Astra Per Aspera, that’s the Latin motto for our state. It means “To the Stars through Difficulties,” and certainly, this seems to be the Kansas way of life. And I can say that because Kansas winds and soils have nourished over four generations of my family.
I find it interesting that universally, stars are made of the same elements found here on this planet, yet each star in our vast cosmos is unique. I often show my university students a photograph taken by the Hubble telescope. The photograph reveals a blackened field punctuated with thousands of glistening points of light. Normally students think it just another star field, but in actuality Hubble has caught the ancient light of thousands of galaxies, each of these tiny pinpoints radiating the collective light of billions of stars. And all of those stars contain the same elements that make the earth, the very same elements comprising my very own body. I’m awed by how the stuff of stars forms all human physical reality, and like the stars themselves, I am uniquely made of these same elements. I fancy that I and all humans are a tiny gatherings of star dust given the grace to recognize and contemplate ourselves among all the stars in the universe.
The universe flourishes in its diversity. So, too, do I prosper as an unique individual when I protect and nurture what makes all humans essentially the same and individually unique. My mom was a great one for cliches. One of her favorites went something like this: “If everyone were the same it would be a very boring world.” More to the point, if everyone were the same there would be no human societies, no majestic temples, no profound books, no stellar innovations, no soaring music, no passionate love, no sense of loss, no deep insights into the incomprehensible nature of the creator. If every star were the same the universe would cease to exist, and if I were the same as everyone else, then I, the individual I, would cease to be.
I live in a world of diversity, and that diversity nourishes all life not just my own. A healthy world, one full of life, works only when I recognize, accept and protect the diversity of all of life on this planet. I believe this is the great responsibility thrust upon me and is the measure by which my success and worth as a human being will be ultimately measured. Reaching to the stars, even if through the difficulties of racism, xenophobia, homophobia, misogyny, poverty, war, global warming, species extinctions, and the depletion of natural resources, is a must for me. Living in Kansas, as a native Kansan, I live by Ad Astra Per Aspera – for me there is no other way.
Barbara Brooke Bascom, MD
I believe in Looky-Loos. I guess that means I believe in myself – a little – because my children called me Looky Loo when I stopped look and listen in the midst of some activity. Children know, even children who don’t read Highlights – those delightful newsletters for kids that have puzzles and hidden objects imbedded in pictures, tips about manners by Goofus & Gallant, and stories about Looky Loos, maddening lovable creatures whose noses are always pasted to windows and who notice everything, even things they aren’t supposed to notice.
When I went to Romania and first visited orphanages and institutions for children and disabled adults considered “unsalvageable”, when I saw row after row of rusty cribs holding thousands of children who were disfigured or dying, I had a real crisis of faith and could no longer accept an omniscient power that would allow this to happen to children. But I couldn’t stop looking and I couldn’t leave. I looked at the awful places, the dead radiators, the empty kitchens and cupboards, I saw children being beaten, starved, taunted and tortured, neglected, spending short lives incarcerated in places that were designed to “allow” them to die of “natural causes” from cold, untreated medical problems, injury and starvation. By then, I was a professional Looky Loo, old enough to remember institutions in America, so I knew what I was looking at. And I knew what was needed.
I believe we need to be in very dark places so we can see the smallest lights and know that something lives and is vibrant and flourishing, even in the most hideous environments. My little lights – Luminita in Romanian – came from children. I believe in children. I believe in the mysterious, powerful force we call the human spirit. In every institution, no matter how deadly, there were little bands of surviving children – children who had created a life, invented a surrogate family, children who loved, laughed, sang together, who protected each other, shared food and blankets, had a social code of honor, developed - and never betrayed – a trust. Somehow, without any outside assistance, these children had found a way not only to survive but to thrive. As I lived and worked with these children, they shared with me, in the gentlest of ways, both the atrocity and the joy of their existence. I lost all pretense of objectivity but was as intrigued and challenged intellectually as I was drawn to them emotionally.
Survival was very tied to two factors: mobility and social attachment / friendship. Thriving, however, was entirely dependent on friendship. During my last visit to Romania, Nicoleta, a beloved young friend from one institution, sang me her favorite song. I asked for a translation of the chorus lyrics: “I love so that I may live, I live so that I may love.”
I believe in the human spirit. I believe children come into the world with an innate, powerful driving force to live and to share life lovingly with others. I believe this because I have witnessed it, in some small way have been part of it, have seen it in action. This enlightenment changed me fundamentally, changed the way I think about healing and helping others. I’m glad I am a Looky Loo, that I continued to look for the Luminita in Romania’s institutions.
I believe that, however hateful or atrocious the situation, to look and listen is imperative, that we must never look away or avert our gaze, and never forget what we’ve seen.
Debbie L. Nuss
I believe in the values of reciprocity, stewardship, responsibility, citizenship, civic virtue, and love. These values probably best describe how I try to take care and give care in all that I do.
While important throughout my life, these values have meant different things to me at different times and some have been more important than others at different stages of my life. As a child, I can imagine that some days reciprocity meant the Golden Rule in its truest sense -- “Do onto others as you would wish them do onto you.” Yet on other days its meaning might have been more like “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth;” negative reciprocity, so to speak. As a pre-adolescent, I am proud to look back and realize reciprocity remained important, but responsibility was a value I also took very seriously. As an adolescent I probably took the value of love too seriously because it was influenced more by my hormones rather than by my heart and soul. As a young adult, I more fully recognized the values of stewardship, citizenship, and civic virtue as I became more politically and socially aware and active during my college years. But, it wasn’t until I was a more mature adult – during our child-rearing years – that I was able to recognize that these values combined had helped to shape who I am, what I think, and why.
It was during this time, as my husband and I worked to instill our values in our children that I recognized that the value instilled in me most strongly as a child was the ethic of reciprocity. I realized that it was important to me to live in a community and raise our children and where that was important too. The Midwest and specifically Manhattan, Kansas has been that community.
The ethic of reciprocity is more than the Golden Rule “do onto others” mantra – it is the simple belief that every person shares certain inherent human rights simply because of their membership in the human race. People individually are very different; they come in two main genders, different sizes, colors, and shapes; many races; three sexual orientations; and different degrees of ability. They follow many religious and economic systems, speak many languages, and follow many different cultures.
I believe children inherently know the ethic of reciprocity, but something happens to that inherent wisdom as they grow up; they lose it, or at least a good portion of it. It seems as of late that children and families who are involved in certain organized religions are oftentimes convinced that the ethic of reciprocity does not apply to all human beings, but only to their fellow believers – a class system, so to speak, exists.
And thus something else I believe is that the greatest failure of organized religion is its historical inability to apply the ethic of reciprocity to all humans. It is my belief, and a belief shared by many, that religions should stress that their membership use the ethic of reciprocity when dealing with persons of other religions, the other gender, other races, other sexual orientations, any “otherness.” Not doing so sends the wrong message to our children and creates a future that will continue to be filled with religiously-related oppression, discrimination, or perhaps even worse.
Jim Sherow
I believe in stars, and that’s why I’m glad to live in Kansas. Ad Astra Per Aspera, that’s the Latin motto for our state. It means “To the Stars through Difficulties,” and certainly, this seems to be the Kansas way of life. And I can say that because Kansas winds and soils have nourished over four generations of my family.
I find it interesting that universally, stars are made of the same elements found here on this planet, yet each star in our vast cosmos is unique. I often show my university students a photograph taken by the Hubble telescope. The photograph reveals a blackened field punctuated with thousands of glistening points of light. Normally students think it just another star field, but in actuality Hubble has caught the ancient light of thousands of galaxies, each of these tiny pinpoints radiating the collective light of billions of stars. And all of those stars contain the same elements that make the earth, the very same elements comprising my very own body. I’m awed by how the stuff of stars forms all human physical reality, and like the stars themselves, I am uniquely made of these same elements. I fancy that I and all humans are a tiny gatherings of star dust given the grace to recognize and contemplate ourselves among all the stars in the universe.
The universe flourishes in its diversity. So, too, do I prosper as an unique individual when I protect and nurture what makes all humans essentially the same and individually unique. My mom was a great one for cliches. One of her favorites went something like this: “If everyone were the same it would be a very boring world.” More to the point, if everyone were the same there would be no human societies, no majestic temples, no profound books, no stellar innovations, no soaring music, no passionate love, no sense of loss, no deep insights into the incomprehensible nature of the creator. If every star were the same the universe would cease to exist, and if I were the same as everyone else, then I, the individual I, would cease to be.
I live in a world of diversity, and that diversity nourishes all life not just my own. A healthy world, one full of life, works only when I recognize, accept and protect the diversity of all of life on this planet. I believe this is the great responsibility thrust upon me and is the measure by which my success and worth as a human being will be ultimately measured. Reaching to the stars, even if through the difficulties of racism, xenophobia, homophobia, misogyny, poverty, war, global warming, species extinctions, and the depletion of natural resources, is a must for me. Living in Kansas, as a native Kansan, I live by Ad Astra Per Aspera – for me there is no other way.
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