Autumn Visit

So I want to keep the dialogue going about my last post because I think it's important, and I want to chat more with the new englander about his perspective on it.

However, I have been sneezing for the past 12 hours for some reason... and I want to take time to write a good, solid posts for such a serious topic. In the meantime, here are some photos from last weekend when PaulG came to visit.

These are from Bent Creek and the top of Black Balsam. I am such a fan of the self-portrait technique. Who needs help getting pictures taken if you have you have the one arm photo shot? You can't even tell in that photo on the left... you'd think that it was taken off guard, but it's just great acting and great photography skills. Really.

The Race and Race

Some Western Carolina University students "found" a dead bear cub and "as a prank" decided to wrap it up in Obama campaign signs and leave it in the middle of campus.

The incident was publicized in international newspapers. The news that it was "just a prank... they were just trying to not get blood in the truck bed" came out yesterday.

So what of it? To begin, both the dead bear and the symbolic violence that we all immediately associated with the crime are disgusting. What might have been a prank has heavy undertones in a climate in which people are yelling, "Kill Barack" at McCain rallies and in which racism has churned around to the surface of political discourse.

This postsecret postcard reads "It's only a matter of time."

Someone responded, "This is a fear that I have. I hope that you were also expressing a fear and not a threat." I feel the same way, and it makes me angry that I should worry about Barack Obama's safety from hatred and harm.

Roomie and I were talking about the WCU "prank" this morning, and I said, "Why do people have to kill all the good ones? I mean, Martin Luther King Jr, Jesus, John F. Kennedy..."

I can only speculate that fear and ignorance drive this hatred... and it's hard not to react to racist comments, violence, and ignorance with fear and anger. How ironic. So what to do? How to educate? The Unity Project all over the place? Hmm.

I heard this rebroadcast of an interview of J.L. Chestnut on Fresh Air last week. He was the first African American attorney in Selma, Alabama and represented many Civil Rights protesters in the 1960s. He made several points that I have been thinking about a lot lately. (This interview, which took place on October 3, 2008 is only 19 minutes long and excellent. I encourage you to listen as he speaks so well about this time in history.)

Here are the points that have been buzzing in my mind:

After watching police beat men, women, and children during a march from Selma to Montgomery (on what was named Bloody Sunday on March 7th, 1965), he described how horrible it was and said it was one of the lowest days of his life. On that day, he lost faith in America and in white people.

He then said, "Two days later I had to make a new assessment because white people and black people from all over this nation saw this on television and were upset with what they saw. It's easy to send a check down from New York City and say, 'I'm with you.' It's something all together different to come down and lock hands with a black person and say, 'I'm ready to go to jail. I'm ready to die if necessary.' He said that as he looked around at the hundreds of people, "My faith in this nation and my faith in the human race was restored."

Mr. Chestnut owned a handgun which Martin Luther King Jr asked him to give up. When King told him that people were going to come and try to kill all of them, Chestnut said he knew, but, "If they come and kill me, I'm taking a few down with me."

On the night that MLK Jr was assassinated, Chestnut gave up his gun. He said, "My carrying a weapon certainly didn't save Martin. It didn't save Jimmy Lee Jackson. I watched John Louis stare down whole regiment of State Troopers and he didn't have a weapon... the changes that had occurred didn't come at the end of any gun. So giving it up was a tribute to my friend who had given his life in Memphis."

He then spoke about how when the Voting Rights Act passed in Selma, within six weeks they went from having 200 registered voters to 9,000. It changed everything-- people who never had a voice in their government now became important players, white politicians had to appeal to a new group of voters and some black people considered running for office themselves, juries were racially balanced. "Where there was hopelessness now there was hope... where I had thought we could only make minor adjustments, I saw now that we could do much more.... America began to develop some meaning for me."


"Where there was hopelessness now there was hope."

Vote.
Be an ally.

Do not fear.

Have courage.

Spying on the Neighbors.

When I was in New Jersey last time I was embarrassed by a Dictaphone tape that had my 12 year old voice on it; I was singing "Livin' on a Prayer" and some songs that I made up.

Other tapes (perhaps from earlier than that date, since those songs were from when I had a broken leg) had my high pitched voice whispering about what the neighbors. I'd crawl through the rhododendrons and report what they were doing as if I worked for the CIA and they were KGB agents. You could hear crinkled leaves and branches as I slithered through the underbrush; occasionally, I'd say, "Oh, I think they see me. Over and out." Okay. So not my coolest moment.

While I'm not proud of it, this trait has followed me throughout my life. I had a close friend who also enjoyed people watching and eavesdropping. We'd sit on park benches and make up stories about people. We'd go out to dinner and find ourselves distracted from each other by some drama going on at another table. Endless fun.


......
Now, as I'm looking at a substantial grant application, I'm distracting myself once again by looking around the room and "spying" on the coffee shop patrons. Not quite crawling around the room and listening to conversations, but still observing.

Here's a snapshot:

Perhaps filling out a job application, a woman who is sitting in the sun flips through an old fashioned Roladex full of little cards that have addresses from handwritten notes or business cards.

Others eat lunch-- two handed sandwich holding and one handed sweet potato fry tasting. Others sit huddled in front of computers or leaning back ankle-to-knee-leg-crossed while talking on cell phones.

One man in front of me is copying a handwritten document onto a fresh sheet. He has a sticker on a tennis racket bag that says, "No Fear. No War. Know Love. Know Peace." I've seen similar Jesus stickers... A woman next to me is holding a baby which is the size of a large watermelon.

The sun is streaming and passing shadows of plants and joggers into the room.

I've had too much caffeine and am listening to the Turing Machine on my headphones. Calendar open in front of me. Electronic files open on my screen. Back to executive summaries, goals and objectives. Over and out.