This Little Light Of Mine...

During a recent conversation with my mother about challenges that someone we love is dealing with, I was reminded of a quote about evil triumphing because good men do nothing.

Of course, I couldn’t remember who said it or the exact verbiage, so I had to look it up.  Answer:  Edmund Burke and the precise quote is “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”

Now, I’m no history buff but I know that Mr. Burke was a conservative politician in 18^th century England who was vocally supportive of the move toward America’s independence.  That’s the end of your history lesson, because I’m not interested in who or what he referred to with that statement.  What interests me is the human Truth behind it.

How many times could we, as bystander, have prevented another’s struggle by just speaking up?  Or stepping in?  Or simply by being present as a visible witness to the wrong?   If we know that negativity cannot live in the light, then isn’t it our responsibility to open the curtains and hit the light switch when darkness is present?

For the last several years, my mother was under attack by a neighbor.  It cost her countless nights of sleep, lots of money to defend herself, and hours upon hours in court and offices of various attorneys.  In the beginning, many of the troubles could have been avoided if other neighbors had stopped walking by long enough to say “Stop that!”, if the authorities in charge had said “Cut it out!” when they had the chance or if the crazy neighbor lady’s friends had told her that she was being a jerk.  But they didn’t, so the snowball kept rolling, kept growing, until it was too big for one person to handle.  Finally, it’s over.  For my mother, anyway.  But the crazy neighbor lady never really learned any lessons and her defeat only fueled the rage that will no doubt be unleashed on anyone else in her path.

That’s perhaps an extreme example, but the opportunities to do something or to just shine a light are always present.  You don’t have to look far to see them and you don’t have to work hard to act upon them.

When you listen to an acquaintance (or, sadly, sometimes a friend or family member) who is recounting the details of some malicious action, an underhanded manipulation or just generally jerky behavior they’ve committed against another person and you just shake your head or laugh uncomfortably, darkness triumphs.  Maybe – just maybe – if you say “that’s wrong” or “that’s not nice” or question the motivation with a “Why would you do such a thing?” the wrong-doer will see the reality of their act and learn something – or at the very least, know that you don’t condone it, don’t want to be part of it, and will not support that treatment of a fellow human being.

We all have people in our lives who carry their darkness with them in a cloud that surrounds them.  No matter how they may carry themselves in public, the cloud is there.  We see it.  Much like Charlie Brown’s Pigpen.  The Peanuts gang wait until Pigpen walks away before they comment on his cloud of dirt.  Why don’t they point it out to Pigpen directly?  Maybe Pigpen doesn’t even realize that he could use a bath.  Maybe he doesn’t realize that he’s soiling every surface he touches.  Or MAYBE Pigpen knows full well that his filth is offensive and he kind of enjoys it.  Don’t we see that every day? 

What if gentle Charlie, bossy Lucy or the wise and well-spoken Linus said something to him?  What if Charlie gently brought the idea of a bath and clean laundry to Pigpen?  What if Linus advised about the benefits of cleanliness?  What if, barring all progress, Lucy jumped in to say “Look, if you want to be filthy, that’s your right, but don’t bring it in here!”  Odds are, Pigpen would either realize the problem and fix it or he’d choose to walk away and find a new space to pollute.

Our young children are learning this right now in their classrooms.  Schools have taken the light and shined it directly on bullies and bad conduct.  They’re teaching this generation of kids to lead the way with good behavior, supportive kind acts and permission to NOT tolerate a bully.  We adults could use some refresher courses.

Here in the adult world, what if we took a lesson from the third graders and, instead of walking away,tsk-tsking and expressing our sadness to others when we know a loved one is being mistreated, we shine the spotlight on the bully?  We may not always be able to rescue the victims who make the choice to stay, but we can certainly let the bully know:  We see you.  We see what you are doing and it’s not OK.  If you choose to continue, the light will be on and you will be visible to all.  If you bring your dark cloud into the light, it will disappear.

Edmund Burke had it right when he said “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”  But don’t take that to mean you must fight all the fights or that you alone have to do it all.  When I looked up the previous quote for accuracy, I learned that Mr. Burke also said “No one could make a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little”.  Sometimes, just being present or just offering a hug is enough.

It’s important to acknowledge, too, that sometimes the challenges we face are meant not only to test us, but to teach us.  When you’ve walked through fire, you should come through the other side with a better understanding of your own strength as well as some idea about how to avoid the next fire by leading your own way down the path.  Maybe following the guy with the singed eyebrows and burned feet is not the best approach.

Mr. Burke also said (this guy knew stuff!) : “He who wrestles with us strengthens our nerves and sharpens our skill.  Our antagonist is our helper.”  So our tormentor can be our teacher.  But we’re not meant to stay in the classroom forever, are we?  We’re supposed to graduate and move on.  Ideally, we move on and continue to learn.  We share our knowledge with those who need it.  We learn so that we can advance.  So that we can evolve and grow.

But even the lowliest weed needs light to grow, right?  So don’t hang out in the shade of those who prefer darkness.  Speak the kind truth.  Don’t criticize without an offer to help.  Don’t turn away from dark clouds – instead, shine your light on them until they either disappear to the shadows that cannot reach you or lighten up and accept their own light. 

Just as our children are learning to speak up and stand up to a bully, it’s time for us all to remember to not stand idly by, to not join the shouting mob, to not stand in the shadows and – most importantly – to let our lights shine far and bright so the darkness doesn’t stand a chance. 

 

As for me and this little light of mine?  I'm gonna let it shine.

 

 

 

Oh, Why Don't You Act Your Age?!?

Yesterday, I stumbled upon this photo series and just couldn’t stop looking at it.  I’m not a war vet, I’m not a retired nurse, or even terribly accomplished at much of anything.  I’m not really all that old by today’s standards, but I still saw myself in those pictures – in reverse. 

When I look in the mirror, I’m always a little bit surprised to see that lady who’s looking back at me.  That’s not me, is it?  I mean, that lady has kids and a mortgage and responsibilities!  She’s got lots of grey hair and an extra chin, too, but that’s the least of it.  When others see her, they see a grown up.  A grey-haired, bifocal-wearing, adult with bags under her eyes and responsible, serious thoughts in her head.  That can’t be right!

When I wake up, there’s no doubt that the way my body feels corresponds with the image in the mirror.  The shell has aged.  The knees creak and the exterior is shabby.  But the heart and the head never seem to mature.

There’s a metaphysical belief that when you leave this earth, you will appear on the other side in your most comfortable age.  For most, that seems to be about 30-ish, which I guess makes sense.  At 30, most people are pretty sure of who they are, what they believe, and are anchored in to their lives, comfortable in their own skin.

I don’t know how I’ll appear on the other side.  All I know is that here on earth, I find myself constantly reminding Me that I am no longer 16.  Or 21.  Or even 30.  What a letdown!  Because, at any given moment, that’s exactly how I feel.  How can people ask my opinion on local government or climate/lawn care or expect me meet and confer with teachers?  Can’t they see that I’m just a kid myself?!?!

When I see teens walking down my street and I smile and say hello to them, they brace themselves, expecting the old lady (me!) to yell at them to get off my lawn and turn the music down!  My peers!  They call me ma’am and scurry away.  Talk about a rude awakening!  When my 8 and 5 year olds are plotting something, I should be preparing to scold them (or whatever the proper grownup response may be) but instead I stand back and watch, because I KNOW what they’re thinking.  I remember clearly what is going on in their heads.  I can’t yell at them for acting like a kid when I’m playing the same scenario in my head, can I?

When I have to make official phone calls or deal with “authority figures” of any type, I’m transported back to the principal’s office.  Of course, I always pull it together and “act my age” but that’s all I’m doing, really.  Acting.   But you know what?  I think that’s what we’re all doing.  We’re all staring at the grown up in the mirror in disbelief, because – if we’re living right, anyway – we’re all still kids inside.

The way we see each other is all relative, I guess.  My children will probably always see me just as I am today, just like I will always view my own mother as the young woman who took us on adventures and could solve any problem.  When I’m with my siblings, I will always be the little sister who just wants to hang out with them.  When I’m with old friends, I am 21 and silly.  Mick Jagger will always be a young man and CDs will always be new technology.

So when I stumbled upon these beautiful photos of seasoned humans looking at their younger selves, I thought – once again – of my grandparents.  Fairly recently, I had the opportunity to see photos of them when they were very young.  Playing with their siblings.  Before they grew this family.  Young Josephine and Young Alvin, smiling, laughing, being jubilant.  In their time, they saw amazing changes in the world.  Starting with electricity and indoor plumbing, world wars, women’s rights, civil rights, television, computers, internet, advancements in science and medicine that they never could have dreamed of in their youth.  I’ve always wondered, when Grandma was 80, 90, or even 99 1/2, how did she see herself?  Now at 100, Grandpa doesn’t remember my name.  But ask him about the World’s Fair in 1934, his eyes light up and stories flow.   In his heart and head, is he 21?

I hope so.  And I hope that for all of us.  May we always remember how to play, how to imagine, how to laugh, and how to dream about the future.   May my mother always be a dancer with a rebellious streak, may my brothers always be rock stars, and may we never again feel the need to act our age.

Don't Make Me Wag My Finger...

One day, when I grow up and get to be Queen of the World, I’m going to employ an army.  An army of Courtesy Officers to patrol the planet.  Not “courtesy officers” like the rent-a-cop at the mall or the bank.  Actual Courtesy Officers.  An army of men and women who will go out among the masses and promote peace and enforce good manners with stern looks and finger wags.  In the most dire situations, they may have to dole out a Time Out.

I do my part to be a good human.  I surround myself by good humans.  I teach my children to be good humans.  And then I go out in public and am mortified by the way other so-called human adults behave.  The root of it all seems clear.  These people have a warped sense of entitlement and truly believe that their time, their interests, their desires are more important than those of all of the other people around them.  I mean, don’t we know who they ARE?!?  Don’t we understand how valuable their time is!!!  Harumph!

Society is full of bad behavior and I usually just roll my eyes and move along.  Recently, however, I see more and more assholery (OK, not an actual word, but it fits) in the presence of actual children (as opposed to adults acting like children) and it’s maddening!

Last week, my daughter took part in a fun movie star camp.  She’s done it before and it’s a really cool and creative thing.  The brains behind the camp – Popcorn Media - have it right: the kids are given the freedom to tap into their imaginations and record their fun on camera.  There are no starring roles, no fancy costumes.  It’s Little Rascals style fun and watching the kids interact and support one another is wonderful.  It’s perfect.  Until the parents and grandparents get involved, that is.

At the end of camp, the completed films are ready to watch and they set up a red carpet so the kids can have a moment to feel like superstars.  They are announced, pose for the cameras on the way down, and stop to speak with the “reporters” stationed along the way.  Each kid has an equal moment in the sun.

The carpet was set up – complete with rope barricades – in a wide open space in front of the theater.  We arrived and ALL of the kids – ages 6 through 13 – sat in calm and orderly fashion while waiting for instruction about where to stand or stood off to the side while chatting with friends about it all.  The GROWN UPS, however, trampled all over the carpet.  Repeatedly.  They pushed through the crowd.  Talked over the announcements.  And just generally let it be known that their kid was far more important than all the others. 

When the kids were presented for the carpet, the idea was to cheer them all, to support them all, and to make them all feel special.  What actually happened was: the same “grown ups” who pushed and shoved to the edge of the carpet for their own kid, walked away as soon as they came through so they could hurry and push and shove their way for a seat in the theater (which, by the way, was not even open yet).  So the last few kids to make their debut had barely a handful of people cheering them.  I stomped and yelled doubly for them, because they deserved it.

That’s just one example of bad behavior that needs a finger wag from my future Courtesy Officers.  We see it every day.  When school started yesterday, there was no shortage of assholery in the car pool lane from people who couldn’t possibly wait in line behind the people who were there first because They Were In A Hurry! 

How are we supposed to instill good behavior and fair play in the hearts of children when they are surrounded by poor examples everywhere they go?

Well, when I am Queen of the World, my Courtesy Officers will keep us all in line.  Citizens of the world will learn to ask themselves “What Would Mr. Rogers Do?”  or, perhaps “What Would My Kindergarten Teacher Say?”

Several years ago, there was a best selling book called “All I really Need To Know, I Learned In Kindergarten”.  All of the citizens of my empire will be given a copy of this book as rules of the land.  Failure to follow the rules will result in stern looks, finger wags, time outs and no cookies.  If you’re going to act like a spoiled child, you should expect to be treated like one.

Think back to the basics.  Those rules have never changed and they still ring true as the Right way to behave:

• Share everything.
• Play fair.
• Don't hit people.
• Put things back where you found them.
• Clean up your own mess.
• Don't take things that aren't yours.
• Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
• Wash your hands before you eat.
• Flush.
• Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
• Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
• Take a nap every afternoon.
• When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.

Study them.  Live them.  Because one day, when I am finally Queen Of The World, this is what will be expected of you.  If, by some strange flook, I never get to be Queen, it’s still pretty good advice.  Especially the part about cookies and naps.

Don’t make me wag my finger at you.

 

What Ever Happened To...?

You know how people like Marilu Henner have those amazing memories that can recall details of every moment of every day?  I’m not one of those people. 

I’m terrible with he said/she said accounts of talks.  I can give a good summary, but if you want precise quotes, I’m not the one to deliver.  Names escape me.  While I’m shaking a hand, meeting a new person, I can feel the name walk right out the door as it’s being delivered.  However, I never forget a face.  I never forget a person.  I don’t even forget the meat of conversations.  It’s just the details that are fuzzy.

There are people who have crossed my path for the briefest moments that have stayed with me for years.  Whether they realized it or not, they affected me and I often ponder where they are and how they are doing.  Tiny things remind me and I wonder “what ever happened to …”  Usually, the people I am most curious about are the people who were the most unusual and most fleeting.

When I was a small child, as we walked from our house to the local swimming pool, we had to pass a tiny ramshackle house occupied by Charlie.  Today, he’d probably be featured on an episode of Hoarders, but in those days, he was just the eccentric old man sitting on his porch, watching the children walk by.  I know how that sounds but, as I remember it, there was nothing creepy about him.  Certainly, I remember that he wasn’t exactly clean.  I remember that he could be quite grouchy with the older kids, but I also remember that those kids who got the grouchy guy incited the grouch in the first place.

For those of us who looked beyond the trash pile and who smiled at Charlie, the reward was a warm toothless smile and – sometimes – a small token of friendship.  Maybe a plastic army man or a piece of a toy that he found in a junk pile that he thought we’d like to have.  I remember the boys finding things on their walks that they would bring to Charlie.  In hindsight, I can see that he was probably autistic or had alternative brain wiring but in those days, he was just simple Charlie.  He was an old man then. Still, I often wonder whatever happened to Charlie.  What happened to his house and “treasures”.  I imagine that he probably died alone and his house was dozed and his treasures buried and that just makes me terribly sad.

In Pennsylvania, we had no shortage of characters swirling about our family.  Many still make cameo appearances here and there but a few passed through never to be heard from again.  Crazy Larry desperately wanted to be part of our clan.  I think he originally had eyes on my mother but realized that was not going to happen.  That didn’t stop him from showing up randomly with bizarre attempts at endearing himself to us as a whole.  To be clear, ‘Crazy Larry’ was not our nickname for him.  It’s the way he introduced himself.  But the name definitely fit.

He would show up, unannounced and uninvited, and spring into the room with joyful chaos.  He followed us to a movie theater, paid our way in, and asked people to move seats so we could all be together.  He showed up in tennis whites with extra rackets and dragged us to courts to teach us how to hit the ball.  He showed up on my birthday with a valuable, stolen duck as a gift for me (a story for another time) and I loved that duck for the 3 days we had it before finding the rightful owners.  I have no idea what happened to Crazy Larry, but I think of him on my birthday and I hope he found some peace and happiness and perhaps a family of his own.

My brother had a friend, Charles, who was the son of vaudeville-style entertainers.  He was a soft sweet soul who worshipped Jim Henson and dreamed of one day being a puppeteer.  He followed that dream as far as Florida and the last we heard, committed a stupid crime, desperate for food, and the result was a horrible accident that landed him in jail.  The thought of this beautiful kid, with his loving heart, being caught in this tragic cyclone of events that ripped his dreams from him breaks my heart and I think of him every time I see the Muppets or a happy guy doing a happy puppet show.

At a party in Florida, I met a guy who called himself (p)SAM.  This stood for Psychedelic Andy M.  He was a bit of early Bobcat Goldthwait and a bit broken little boy.  I suppose I must have been kinder to him than others, because he latched himself on to me and appeared in front of me at unusual times and places.  He was, I guess, my very own Crazy Larry.  I don’t know what ever happened to pSam, but I hope he found some happiness and dropped the PS from his name.

Countless fragile children have passed through our station.  One family in particular has lingered in my memory.  Their abused and battered mother had nothing left to give so we gave them the hugs and attention that they craved and couldn’t get at home.  My fear is that they grew up repeating the patterns they knew.  My hope is that they snapped out of it and broke free.  Wherever they are, my wish for Randy, Maryann and KC is that they know love and peace.

Time marches on.  People come and go.  But even the most seemingly insignificant encounter leaves a fingerprint and we’ll never truly know what another human being can mean to us or – maybe more importantly – what WE can mean to THEM. Let’s all agree to be kind when we can.  Share a smile when we can.  Charlie did it for us.  If he could do it, we all can, right?