This America
Growing up, I can't recall one instance when politics were discussed in our house. My stepfather, a police officer, kept his political beliefs tight to the chest. My mother just didn't want confrontation. And I had yet to develop my own understanding of not just our country, but how I viewed myself in relation to others, and vice versa. When I got to college (a Jesuit University), my beliefs and values began to take shape. I will never forget day one of a class called Black Rights: Eyes on the Prize. Just a few minutes after an introduction, our young professor pressed play on a video. It was Birmingham in the 60s, or maybe it was Montgomery. And the horrors hit me. And this happened 40 years ago, I thought? Just 40 years?? I sat frozen. I felt anger and restlessness, but mostly I just felt sadness. A deep sadness. I watched white and black men and women marching the streets simply to gain equality. Dogs attacked, men were beaten, some killed. This was an America that I simply didn't understand. This didn't look like Alabama or Mississippi. It looked like hell.
Those videos changed me. Forever. I went on to dig deeper into the struggles of those deprived of rights, freedoms, and most importantly, justice. And no one led me down this path. It just came to me. It felt like the right thing to do. I studied the death penalty, mental health, poverty, racism, greed. I went from a subpar/mediocre student to the dean's list. And again, it came naturally.
This evening, after a fairly tiring work week, I hopped into my car and listened to what happened in Washington tonight. As expected, the republicans, led by John Boehner, wouldn't budge on anything. If they had it their way, it seems as though we'd live in a country of just a few thousand people: rich people. No one else matters. Gut Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security? Obviously! Remove all taxation on the rich? Yes! I was angered. I almost felt despondent. But just like the time I saw that first black and white video of the deep south in the 60s, more than anything else, I was overcome with sadness. How did we come to this? How are we this self-serving? How do the American people let them get away with this?
I finally arrived home. A few minutes later I was walking in the park with my dog. People were throwing balls, drinking beer, socializing. I felt a little better. After 30 minutes or so of watching my dog run without a care, I latched on his chain and began my walk home. As I turned a corner, an elderly woman, probably 75 or so, approached. Her head was pointed at the ground and she dragged two shopping carts full of cans and plastic bottles. She stopped at a garbage can. Nothing. She looked sober and determined. Suddenly, all of my worries were put on the shelf. All I saw was her. As she walked past, without a thought, I reached for my wallet. And no, I don't do this often. As a matter of fact, it's very rare. But I was overcome. And something in me honestly said, "Whatever you have, give it to her." I quickly flipped open my wallet before she could scurry away. $1. That's all I had. Just a dollar. I quietly approached the woman and held out a dollar. "No, no," she said and walked on briskly. Now I felt even worse. I had offended her. She seemingly had too much pride. My mind was cold. I looked down to my dog and took a step towards home. And then a few more steps. And then, as this woman was hidden by a row of bushes, I heard, "But thank you."
Comments
Post a Comment