Chanukah Story--December 2019

 Our group completed an arduous tour of the Majdanek Labor/Death Camp in Lublin, Poland. Among all of the Holocaust sites in Poland, this is one of the most difficult. The complex has not been "sanitized" for public eyes. Proof of what occurred on the land has been preserved--ovens, ashes, prison blocks. 

We left the area by 3:30. Darkness comes early in Poland in December. We settled in our modest hotel by 4. The Jews in the group lit the Chanukah candles for the primarily non-Jewish travelers. It was the first night of Chanukah, a few days from Christmas Eve. We sang "Rock of Ages" and "Oh Chanukah" and shared the old stories of miracles. 

After the candle lighting, some forty of us dispersed into smaller groups, venturing out into the misty, cold evening. Lublin has a 700 year history, owing its development to being located on a trade route. A Jewish center of learning, Hasidism was founded in Lublin. Isaac Bashevis Singer was associated with the city. 

The city was alight in beautiful decorations, easy to forget what lay a few miles away. We stopped in a bakery to buy cookies, marveled at the marzipan treats, and pranced about, giggling at selfies and group pictures. We headed into the old city and meandered slowly to a square, time for a libation. 

My friends and I sat in a tiny, cozy cafe, nestled between apartments and stores in an inner courtyard. After the libation and banter, we eased into dinner. I was happy to have a fresh spinach salad. My two male friends followed my example. Quiet laughter and stories filled with melancholy ensued. We conversed with fellow travelers from our group at the next table. 

Pleasantly satiated after our meal, we paid our bills, poured ourselves into our warm coats, and slipped on gloves, hats, and scarves. The cold was familiar, similar to Washington D.C. The damp was chilling to the bones. 

I saw her first--an angel holding out a tray of sufganiyot (donuts), standing by herself in the dim courtyard, cobblestones shining. Was I dreaming? I had just told my newfound friends that I desired a donut for Chanukah. She had a round face like a hazelnut, rosy cheeks, and brown eyes. Her head was fringed in fur. I said, "How much?" 

She understood English? She smiled and answered, "They're free. Take one." I did and bit into the fresh, yeasty, warm dough. The jam was sweet, and powdered sugar drifted on to my jacket, like snowflakes.

I called out to my friend, "Gabe, come look. You have to see."

He smiled in astonishment as he approached; his face brightening in the near darkness, "Oh my. How lovely! Can I take one?"

"Yes, please," said the little angel.  And he took a big bite out of his soft donut. Our other acquaintences came over when they heard our converstation. 

"Look, donuts, theyr'e a specialty for Chanukah!" I exclaimed.

"Wow. How cute she is. Delicious," the three women commented. They went on their way with their treat.

Out of the mist, in the old square, a woman appeared. Who was this? Another passerby? "Hello. Darling. What have we here?" she asked. 

"They are taking my donuts, Ima."

"Wonderful!" and the woman introduced herself; she was the angel's mother. The angel was actually a lttle girl. They were Israelis, visiting relatives. The mother said, "Follow me." We did, implicity trusting the two.

Climbing up steps, after walking across the small cobblestone square, we entered a softly lit room. Tables were set with white embroidered cloths and napkins. Various pieces of furniture were covered in lace, adorned with brass menorahs, candlesticks, and photographs. Where were we? In old Lublin, circa 1880? Am I dreaming again? Klezmer music played in the background. A few waiters scurried about in long white aprons, neatly pressed shirts, and black bowties. A younger woman came up to us, "Welcome."

Is that a cellphone? Are those CDs? Back to the present. This was the aunt's restaurant, the source of the sufanyiot. Such are dreams. My friends and I woke up to buy a few trinkets, say good-bye, and move on into the night.

How Have You Changed in the past Four Years?

 I saw this question asked on Facebook and in the media. I recall the bleak day after our last presidential election. I crawled out of bed bleary eyed, dragged myself to a part-time job, and could barely speak. When I returned home, I plopped on my sofa in the middle of the day, which I never do unless ill. I was ill, so to speak, with despair. Of course, I called my sister and friends.

During the first days and weeks post election 2016, people I met appeared normal. Either they, like myself, were screaming internally, or they were unaware of the immense changes to come. The Shabbat after the election brought me some solace. It was the beginning of the Resistance movement and a strong camaradarie. The Rabbi asked the congregants to talk, as we sat in a circle. Many of us asked, "How could people vote for him?"

Returning to my original question, the change in me is utter shock and dismay that half of the population rejects truth in favor of  partisan politics. On a deeper level, I discovered that half of the country and the majority of Republican politicians and leaders accept outright lies, corruption, treason and crime. Naively, I believed that truth and morality were the final arbiters over political party. Politicians have stretched the truth forever, but Trump introduced a new era of anti-Democracy. Stupidly, I believed Americans would stand proudly for truth and goodness. Silly me, I expected Americans to respect the rule of law. Unfortuately, I have ascertained that fear, individual gain, and religious fundamentalism (Christian and Jewish) outweigh truth. When religious zealots choose death over life, we have lost the American spirit. When people listen to fear over reality, we have crossed the border into a bleak dystopic land. We are no better than the citizens from other nations whom we readily criticize. What has happened to F.D.R.'s words--"There is nothing to fear but fear itself?"

The list is endless--Muslim ban, loosening of environmental protection, anti-semitism, racism, police violence, collusion with Russia, adulation of the world's most ruthless dictators, and detention and expulsion of asylum seekers at our southern borders. Nothing matters anymore. Dead children at the Rio Grande River, over 200,000 dead from COVID-19, and numerous killed from random shootings does not sway predominately white people (of some privilege) to cheer for Trump and vote for him in two elections. Often, these voters pick one issue and are blind to what is occurring around them. For example,"Trump says he is against abortion, so I'll ignore eveything else." Or "My taxes will be lower and the stocks are doing better, so he gets my vote."  Continuting to believe Trump's crimes would dissuade people, I was so wrong. Lies are accepted because they assuage fears enough for these voters to suppress reality. Even an impeachment had no affect on the "base."

Now, this is the clincher. Even when friends and loved ones are dead, Trump's supporters refuse to change their minds. Death is evidently insufficient to awaken a person in denial. I live in a foreign country now. I was born here, but I do not belong. There is nowhere to go, especially with the virus. Where can a 69 year old retiree move to? Perhaps, by some miracle, Biden will win. I will be elated. But, these others are out there. We are not a United States of America. I am very sad. I was never a blind patriot. I criticized the leaders; I was skeptical of various policies and presidents.  But an ugliness has been revealed that will take generations to change. 

Despite the negative picture I have created, we Americans have experienced great changes in my lifetime. So why would people want to go back to segregation, a hierarchy that prevents minorities from participating fully in our society, the disabled back in institutions or on the streets, smokestacks spewing pollution, guns on people's belts, and an absence of health care for all? Is one selfish, misguided rationalization or fear strong enough to allow for the abuse of women, the handicapped, homosexuals (transgenders, etc.) and racial minorities? 

Evidently so. 

More Musings on Racism

 Racism has been with humankind for centuries. Americans focus on our sin of slavery. After slavery was abolished, a more subtle form of subjugation took hold in the South. The remainder of what was the United States at the end of the 19th century continued to function with other forms of bondage. Less obvious, but detrimental to African Americans, were discrimination in housing, education, justice, and overall opportunities for socio-economic advancement. Asian-Americans, Native Americans, and Hispanic Americans suffered greatly, in specific regions of the country, during our history.

Mea culpa--I am white. I will never know exactly how it feels to be non-white. I am Jewish, though, so I have an inkling of the deadly effects of discrimination.  

The brief summary above takes one through the 20th and early 21st century. Unfortunately, racism is alive and well. I grew up in a period when segregation of races was commonly accepted. My parents never demonstrated hatred of other races; however, my mother and father did not exactly embrace people of color. There's was a standoffish attitude. 

The San Francisco of the 1950's and 1960's that I experienced during my childhood was characterized by segregated schools and neighborhoods. I never set foot in the Black and Mexican neighborhoods. I did visit Chinatown because of the restaurants and shops. As cities go, San Francisco was liberal and polite. Hatred was not acceptable nor encouraged. However, integration of the races was discouraged. 

When the house next door was sold to Black Americans, my parents and the neighbors went slightly ballistic. I knew then that something was not right in the state of Monterey Heights, my neighborhood in San Francisco. The family moved in, and there were never any serious problems or incidents. My younger brother played with their youngest daughter. I remember fondly when Myrenia and her grey cat came to our kitchen to "play cards" with my brother. The experience of having Black neighbors in the mid 1960's enabled our family to grow and become less fearful. It must be noted that we never socialized.

My first direct experience with African American peers was in junior high school. The kids lived in an area called Ingleside. They were hardly ghetto tough, but to me they were intimidating. They didn't shy away from asserting themselves. I shrunk like a fading flower. Most important was the academic tracking that occurred. As the achievement level of the students in a homeroom increased, the amount of Black youngsters decreased. This was classic discrimination based on race.

My class had two Black students; I was in an average group. I remember them well. Ted was probably the first gay young man I ever met. Rochelle was very sweet, smart, and an excellent student. She went on to become a pediatrician. Again, I knew that something was rotten in the state of Aptos Junior High. My academic high school consisted primarily of white and Asian students, with a sprinkling of Blacks, reminding me of a pinch of pepper in a creamy colored soup.

This is shameful to admit but I do not remember any Black students during my college years, in the 1970's. As I think back on this realization, I am astounded. There was one African American young woman--who unfortunately dropped out--in my master's degree program in Boston. There was a large population of Blacks in Boston at the time.

My most valuable lesson occurred in Montgomery County, Maryland, where I have lived for the past 44 years. I was employed by the public school system, so I plunged into a pool of staff and children from all over the world, including the ghettos of Washington D.C. I feel lucky to have worked side by side and socialized with staff of all colors and shades. I learned a great deal of value, both from the adults and students. Not all was positive, I admit. The lingering affects of generational poverty--caused by inequities--left me feeling frustrated, defeated, and hopeless. 

I am a work in progress in relation to racism. As Americans, we must constantly re-evaluate our opinions about others--not a task for those who refuse introspection. Montgomery County Public Schools (MCPS) required staff in the 1980's to take in-service classes in Black, Asian, and Latino studies. Therefore, I have a strong foundation in racial/cultural bias. I was also exposed to the concept of institutional racism in college classes. Nothing nor anybody are perfect, and the school system is continually criticized and forced to address racial issues; but, I believe MCPS was ahead of its time.

Now I move on to a subset of racism or a branch on the huge tree of racist thought and policy. I write of religion, a most controversial subject, especially in the present chaos that is our society. I am Jewish, so I will only address what I know. This is in no way meant to focus on Jews in a critical manner. I am writing about positive change; we can improve ourselves forever. 

It is a well-established fact that Jewish people have lived in a variety of countries, literally in all parts of the world. Jews are not only white and European; they are brown, black, and tan. They are Middle Eastern, African, and Asian. By now, the majority of Jews are aware of Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews, the former being of European descent and the latter of Spanish and Middle Eastern origins. But, do you know that there are Jews who live or have resided in China, Morocco, Central Asia, India, and Ethiopia, to name a few countries? 

In our quickly changing society, intermarriage of the races and religions is increasingly commonplace. International and domestic adoption creates interracial families. So, a Black person, for example, may come to a Shabbat service some Friday night or Saturday morning at a synagogue near you. I know that my first thoughts when I see someone of color sitting by me (before COVID) on Shabbat is, Why are you here? Are you Jewish? How did you come to be Jewish? In contrast, when I see a person who looks Jewish and/or is white, I think, Oh, good, maybe he/she is interested in our congregation. When I see an Asian child sitting with a Caucasian parent, I think adoption. But, I could be wrong, the young one could be from the union of an interracial marriage.

But what happens when that child grows up and steps into a synagogue? My son, adopted from Peru, refuses to visit my accepting, inclusive congregation. He feels he would be the only "brown person." And on most Fridays and Saturdays, he would be correct. My fellow congregants would not ask, "Are you Jewish?" They know he is adopted. 

But what would transpire if my son walks into a synagogue somewhere else? He would probably be welcomed. But congregants would ask themselves the questions I say to myself. Would the police guard get jumpy? Would the women shy away from him? And just as damaging, would he have to explain himself ad nauseum, each and every time he meets a new congregant.? Why not a Jewish person who comes from Peru? I happen to know of a Jewish woman, who is brown, beautiful, and Peruvian. Her father was posted to Israel for the foreign service. She converted to Judaism while living in Israel. 

The most embarrasing error one could make is when a person of color is at a Jewish celebration and is questioned per usual. His/her answer is, "My father/mother is Jewish." Why should this person be put on the spot, to feel awkward, or to divulge personal information? The visitor or congregant is from an interracial marriage. Of course, the individual is as Jewish as I am. Skin color is not part of the equation.

Kase for Karen/Case for Caren

 Laugh all you want. LOL. OMG. You, too, if you are lucky, will be middle aged and older some day. Let's get some basics out of the way. Black Lives Matter. I believe in masks. I am the mother of two children who are brown. I am the oldest daughter of Holocaust survivors. I abhor the dangerous systemic racism that permeates our institutions. The police shamelessly target young men of color. If you know me, you know that I fight for those who are disadvantaged.

If you prefer to call me a racist, go ahead. As we say, "it is a free country." Please, for your sake, refer to Ibram Kendi's book, How to be an Anti-Racist. Kendi, a proud black man, clearly states that anti racism is a belief in policies that treat all people equally or not unfairly based on race. Anger towards white people is understandable, but to spew disdain towards caucasians is not anti-racism. It is merely switching one "racism" for another. So if you want to hate white women go ahead. I know I have an inborn privilege. The black/white discrimination is ancient, with deep roots which permeate almost every culture known to humankind. Also, read about Gandhi, Eleanor Roosevelt, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, and Jimmy Carter, among a myriad of important,contemporary thinkers and doers.

Please realize, you are being sexist by using the epithet, "Karen." Hatred of women is equal opportunity. Misogynsts hate all women, no matter their color. Why not Karen and Kris or Caren and Connor? Why just the women? It is easier for everyone to yell at women. We are not as scary as men. And criticizing women is a national pastime. Frequently, I observe women being the target of disdain, ridicule, and aggression. Young black women need to realize that for every white Karen, there is a black Karen who is your aunt, grandmother, or mother. 

Memes of any sort are bad. I am extremely careful not to utter these code words, since they hurt one way or another. Actually, memes are stereotypes, the latter being extremely dangerous as history has demonstrated. Use of these words, ideas, metaphors perpetuate hatred, misunderstanding, and racism, the basis for genocide, slavery, and murder.

As Kendi wrote, we all have racist thoughts occasionally. But thinking, then analyzing, and finally self-monitoring are different than tweeting out an incendiary message that goes viral. I am not Amy Cooper. I keep my dog on a leash, and I would not call the police about a black man who is birding. But, whoever started calling Amy Cooper a "Karen" is immature and wrong. Amy Cooper has psychological issues which she needs to address. And she committed a crime, but, she too, can repent for her bad behavior. I repeat, I would only call the police if in imminent danger, whether the person is white, black, yellow, or brown. I have witnessed what the police do to men and women of color. 

Our country has committed sins--slavery being the most obvious. However, the treatment of Native Americans has been criminal. All races have been treated unfairly at some point in history. OK, call me racist if it makes you feel better. 

I know hatred. For years, I hated Germans. My family lost their lives, homes, country, and livelihood due to the Nazis. Sometime in middle age, I realized that blaming Germans was senseless. First, most of the Nazis are gone. Secondly, there are more decent Germans than not. The rise of Nazism occurred due to complex issues in an environment fertile for hatred. Ordinary people allowed themselves to be coerced by fear-mongering sociopaths. Sound familiar? Germany has made tremendous contributions to European civilization. I am German Jewish, so why would I hate the culture that nurtured and supported my ancestors for centuries? 

I know this is not the same as being Black in America. I understand! The United States owes African Americans land, reparations, and actual equal opportunity. But my name is Karen because my mother chose the moniker. I want these advantages for Black, Hispanic, and Native Americans. Why would you think otherwise because I look like a "Karen" and happen to be actually, Karen?

Antiracism

Challenging, New, Fresh, Comprehensive--How To Be An Antiracist (Audiobooks version), by Ibram Kendi, encompasses those qualities. Listening to a writer read their words creates a virtual immediacy and intimacy for the listener. Mr. Kendi expresses his theories with candor and clarity in a deeply resonant voice, with a uniquely patterned rhythm. He blends his personal experience with didactic thought, keeping the narrative interesting.
Ibram Kendi distinguishes racism, non-racism, and anti-racism as three separate ideas leading to different policies. Put another way, one can contrast segregation and assimilation as leading to racist policy and antiracism resulting in antiracist policy. Without a doubt, segregation denotes a more seriously racist viewpoint than assimilation. But, actually, assimilation is racist because it assumes that Blacks need to assimilate to a superior way of life. Contrasting racism with non-racism seems obvious until one absorbs Kendi's ideas. It is insufficient to claim one is not racist. Further exploration and introspection reveal ideas, long accepted among liberals, that are not as benign as one thought. Blaming Black people for increased crime rates is ignoring racist policy. Racist policy denys people of color equal opportunities for obtaining an education, jobs, healthcare, mortgages, to name a few. Blaming Black individuals for increased incarceration is ignoring racist policies related to police behavior, racial profiling, bail, and the cost of obtaining a lawyer. Racist policy is based on racism, eventhough it may look like equity. Every child has access to public schools; however, the contrast between public schools in black and white neighborhoods continues to be spectacular. Even when school systems attempt to integrate schools, black children are viewed differently from their white and Asian peers.
I have observed this phenomenon in my years working in public school systems. I myself have behaved in ways, steeped in cultural and behavioral racism. Well-intentioned, as many liberal are, has not precluded me from acting in biased ways--i.e. that child won't do well, how could he, look at his disadvantages; those parents won't show up to the meeting, don't they care? 
Black history is taught in schools, which is a positive step. However, the deeper aspects of systemic racism continue in our schools, usually not acknowledged. Black boys are punished more severely and more frequently; children of color are usually ignored in class if they are not in trouble; lower level classes contain a higher number of minority students; success in school remains unidimensional--good grades, some athletic prowess, test scores, college. Any other path is considered inferior, especially if the student is not white. Academic intelligence remains the most acceptable form of accomplishment.
Regardless of the fact that I am not virulently racist or a white supremacist, I still have deeply ingrained racist ideas. I assume that black families function the same as my family, have the same values, and the same strengths and weaknesses. Furthermore, even more dangerous, is the thinking that my values lead to success, and other values do not. This is cultural racism, one race's culture is superior to another. Countless examples abound--ebonics is slang; rap is trash; urban fashion is based on jail uniforms; black churches are too raucous; and black men are overly sexual. I learned a new concept--being Fresh. This is looking good, stylish, clean, and neat, exemplified by ladies going to church in lovely hats and coats and teenagers treating their sneakers as precious jewels. White people criticize the latter (not the former) but I think wearing immaculate clothing is an expression of power, self-esteem, and pride on the part of African Americans. In the 1970's white individuals castigated the African Americans for sporting afros and dashikis. Now, we have become accustomed to that style, but bristle at the crisp new polo shirts and bright colored basketball sneakers. Go figure?
Blacks themselves can be racist, living by the rules of white culture, overly critical of the younger generations (their children and grandchildren) and, as the author notes, invoking Martin Luther King, for example, Mr. King wouldn't be happy with your poor grades. White parents engage in these "guilt trips" as well, which the author does not acknowledge. The author notes that being anti-white is just as racist as being anti-black. The label "racist" should not be confined to describing Caucasian and Asians. He admits his culpability in his former insistence that whte people are "monsters".

When a Caucasian person commits a wrongdoing, they are "given another chance", forgiven, or punished for what they did. If a Black person is guilty--or if a youngster does poorly in school--white people think something along the lines of: he's black and underprivileged, what do you expect; he doesn't have a father, etc.; why don't they learn how to behave already; these people have too many kids. White individuals are blameworthy for their crimes; the entire black race is culpable for a few people's misdeeds.
I have personal experience with this unfortunate situation, what Ibram Kendi calls behavioral racism. If a group of kids misbehave, the kid of color is likely to receive the worst punishment. I have witnessed such racism countless times. But, no one will change the inherent beliefs that lead to such unfair decisions. Unbelievable as it seems, even if the person of color is adopted and has white parents, the kid will still be punished more severely. Only if and when a highly skilled attorney defends the child of color, may the judgement be mitigated. Again--racism with a capital "R". White and Black parents, both highly sophisticated and intelligent, are powerless to affect change. Teachers, coaches, principals, and school counselors treat children and teenagers of color differently. So do employers. White adults are excused from misbehavior far more often than black or latinx individuals in the world of work.
Antiracist policy assumes that all people are equal, certainly not a novel idea. So why then do we continue to accept that race is a critical factor in the behavior of our citizens? Why does a police officer kill a Black man for passing a fake $20 bill, but probably laugh it off or submit a citation if a white guy tried the same trick? Why does a police officer kill a Black man for running away, after a minor offense, such as parking in a no-parking zone? Mr. Kendi would say that people fear black bodies--as violent, strong, big, and inherently dangerous. This is clearly racist policy. The antiracist police would be to train all officers who use weapons to act based on the circumstances, not the color of the potential perpetrators color.
Ibram Kendi digs into the deep past for the origins of racism, finding the roots in European explorers, anthropologists, royalty, philosophers, social scientists, and religious and lay leaders. The author notes that humans of all races are 98% similar genetically. Theories of biological differences between races, resulting in racist policy, are flawed. Mr. Kendi elaborates that race is a blended construct used for the purposes of power. And power begets money which results in racist policy to maintain the status quo. Later in the book, the author continues to explain the relationship between capitalism/racism/war.
Kendi explains ethnic racism which is aimed at groups within a race. For example, African Americans vs. Blacks from Africa or the Carribean. The latter two groups often denigrate the African Americans. The African Americans ridicule the immigrants from Africa and the Carribean. Jews are guilty of ethnic racism too; historically, German Jews disparaged East European Jews. Ashkenazi (mostly European) Jews besmirched Sephardic (primarily from the middle east) Jews in recent years, though this prejudice is decreasing. Now, Jews from Africa are considered inferior in Israel. And the beat goes on.

The second section of the book is divided into chapters with headings such as Color, Space, Failure, Success, Survival. My attention wandered during this less compelling second half. I sensed that these topics could have been lifted from a course syllabus. The second part of the book would be a great text book, containing clear explanation of concepts and repetition, excellent for a student. Mr. Kendi described a "colorist" as an African American who alters ones physical characteristics--such as straightening hair, changing eye color with contacts, and use of whitening products. These are racist behaviors on the part of blacks. Favoring lighter skinned blacks has been an acceptable viewpoint in the United States for centuries. 

Ibram Kendi explores affirmative action, a controversial subject to say the least. He attests that white people fear losing their advantage. In truth, affirmative action benefits people of all colors and ehnicities; affirmative action programs usually promote universal health care, increased lower and middle income housing, and postive changes for the environment, such as cleaner air and water.

The ending shocked me; two young people are struck by cancer, namely the author and his wife. 

The conclusion is painful--racism is a cancer in our country. The hope is the treatment, in the case of racism--antiracist policies. The final message is to work for candidates and groups who will promote and vote for bills which will become laws to legalize and enforce equality for all in a truly equitable manner.

Two Train Cars

Odd as it seems, my sister, brother, and I embarked on a transcontinental rail trip, with our parents, in August 1968. The train conveyed us from San Francisco to Los Angeles, across the southwest to Louisiana, and further southeast to Tampa, Florida, not a straight path across the country, We visited our dear family friends in Florida. No one traveled by train in those days.The railroads suffered financial setbacks, and passenger routes rapidly diminished in the 1960's. Most Americans traversed the nation by airplane or car.

17 years old on my birthday in June, the assasinations of  Martin Luther King and Robert F. Kennedy occurred in April and June, respectively. These tragedies forced me to face the unrest and conflict occurring in the United States, centered around the Vietnam War and Civil Rights. Unsavory aspects of our country entered my mind, as I faced my senior year in high school. A few years before, I watched a movie about migrant workers, "Harvest of Shame", and digested the bitter truth of extreme poverty in an affluent nation. 

I clearly remember the August morning we boarded the train, wearing nice clothes for travel. I sported a yellow and blue pinstriped summer suit, which I loved. We wore our respectable outfits until Los Angeles. Then we changed into comfortable clothing for the hardcore adventure of traveling across the barren land of the southwestern United States--hot, brown, dry, with isolated cabins and cacti dotting the landscape. Occasionally, if you looked carefully, you might see a lonely farmer or shepherd waving his/her hat in the hot sun. 

Phew. Luckily, we had air conditioning in our car. But, sleeping was nearly impossible for me, in sticky naugahide coach seats that barely moved backwards. The fun aspect of trains is that one can walk through the train which my siblings and I did to asuage boredom. 

Something was very curious in the next coach car, I discovered. There was a strong, musky smell in the hot, stagnant air. I could not avoid noticing that everyone in the train car was black, "negro" as we said. There were large dark women, with huge arms, crowded in seats they shared with their small children. Thinner, weary, wrinkled men, sat together--some ate chicken. The compartment was generally quiet. The people were too drained to talk or laugh. Pitifully, they perspired profusely; the carriage was stifling. There was no air conditioning or ventilation! Horrified and shocked, I knew this was not accidental. How could it be? How did all the white people have tickets for one car and the black individuals for their own car? 

This was 1968 not 1948. Our family--minus my brother who was not yet born--took the same trip in 1958. I was too young to recall much of that trip. However, I do remember separate water fountains, for "white and coloreds". Fondly, I remember popsicles in Tampa and refreshing glasses of iced tea at Lake Ponchetrain (New Orleans). 

Back to 1968, four years post Civil Rights Act--obviously, the segregated cars were accomplished when people bought tickets. In those days, travelers purchased tickets from an agent, at a ticket office. I surmise that the clerk noted the passenger's race and assigned him/her to a railcar. The conductor verified all was in order on the day of travel. 

I asked my parents repeatedly about the situation, but they did not respond with a direct answer. They did not disagree, but they were reluctant to utter the truth of what was in front of their eyes. I had not yet read about the nightmarish freight train cars used by the Nazis to transport Jews and others to their deaths. Did my parents make an association? Or am I overly optimistic in crediting them with connecting the present to the past?

From that day hence, I knew with confidence that a rotten core existed in the center of our country. I learned it was racism. There had already been race riots the summer before, in 1967. After the recent assassinations, there was more violent unrest in cities. And the Chicago riots after the Democratic National Convention were in a few short weeks. 

Never again would I view a scene or situation at its surface level. From that August morning, as the train roared down the tracks in New Mexico and Texas, I began to peer beneath the surface of interactions and scenes. Certainly, I committed many stupid errors. In college, I learned about institutional racism and Jim Crow. My years working in a diverse public school system opened my mind and molded my opinions. I was not consistently fair or compassionate with parents and students. But, I learned unimaginable lessons about disadvantaged minorities, that are the bedrock of my values. I read, watched, and listened. Friendships developed with African Americans.

The years progressed. I dug down deeper, in myself and in our nation's experiences. I usually discovered an awareness that was not so pleasant. Though, there have been times when I have been happily surprised!

Marching with a Mask; Learning a Lesson

  Guilty as charged with the crime of grasping my purse to my body when passing a young black male on the street, especially when alone. White people on the defensive would remark I have good reason to be cautious. Once, I was mugged by a young, dark man while walking alone in an isolated area of San Francisco. Dumb move on my part? Yes. Regardless, one time should not cause a change in a lifetime of behavior. I grasp my bag because of the instituional racism that is branded on my brain. Fear of black people is embedded in our culture and reinforced by media, movies, and television programs. The message has been loud and clear--white women be cautious of young black men! I grew up in the ancient times of the mid 20th century when adults in my environment uttered racist statements unabashedly. But back to black men. It should be noted I have been on both sides. My son is brown, and I witnessed a woman grab her purse close to her body when she walked into an elevator. I stood beside my son, but the woman did not guess we were mother and son. 

Today, I walked briskly down the Rockville Pike, yelling chants, such as "No Justice No Peace". "No Racist Police", etc. with my black, brown, yellow, red, and white brothers and sisters. As I returned to my car, now dragging myself in the humid Maryland summer heat, several young black men passed me--some dressed in "urban" garb-- and nodded. I realized, we are friends, compatriots, fellow warriors in a fight for justice. They probably thought, what a nice white grandma. I thought what a nice young man!

Soft Spots

The soft spots on an infant's head do not remain a long time. So it is with my psyche. I feel a softness so seldomly these days. This morning, I listened to a Zoom production of "Yerushalyim Shel Zahav", and a softness opened up in me. The music, the beautiful voices of the female cantors, and scenes of Israel unlocked a sweet sadness. The pictures of Jerusalem triggered the old, idealistic promise of Israel, gone forever. One of the singers in the Zoom production was a former cantor at Temple Emanuel in San Francisco. She sang at my mother's funeral in July. Immediately, I recalled the perfect moment of her pure voice, singing a psalm, for my mother in the hush of a chapel.
In these awful times, I find myself angry, afraid, and aghast at the daily demise of our Democracy. Simultaneous to the present deterioration of commonly-held values, I am sincerely shocked at the extent to which people defy common sense. There is a pandemic. Nearly 100,000 people have died--parents, siblings, children, colleagues, friends, lovers. But--what--due to  ill-conceived illogical thinking and association with fear of the future, racism, zenophobia, and resentment, Americans have twisted medical advice on its head. Doctors and scientists no longer are experts. Charlatans and snake oil salesmen-like characters are the new experts. P.T. Barnum was correct.
My body is tense; my blood pressure is probably up. My mother would say, "don't let it make you sick". Easier said than done. Our country is a sad joke. I recollect Charlie Chaplin in "The Great Dictator".  I was never a chauvinist about America. However, this situation is beyond anything I could have dreamed, in a nightmare. In a seriously distorted turn, I am applying for German citizenship.
Before I go any further, I must return to softness. Pull my shoulders down, take a deep breath, and remember the unfolding of peonies, the Canada Geese that have taken over the shore of our local pond, the birdsong. Breathe again, read, and then look for the new duck couple at the fountains.

Critical Thinking

Often, we are told to utilize our critical thinking skills. Or commentators and politicians report that schools fail to teach reasoning and problem solving; educational practices do not include the teaching of "thinking skills".
I will not address the educational aspects, since I do not have the facts. However, using our "noggins" can result in challenging circumstances. The probability is high that one's thought processes, about an issue, event, or interaction, will differ from the common viewpoint. Furthermore, strategies for solving problems may contrast with those of the majority. These are common results of reasoning, strategic thinking, and analyzing any given situation or conflict in our daily lives.
Negative reactions from colleagues, friends, and family are common. People demonstrate anxiety at novel viewpoints or solutions. "Thinking outside the box" is viewed as impossible or crazy; listeners initially dismiss new ideas or methods of behavior. We are all guilty of these reactions--some more than others. So the critical thinker confronts the downside of creative strategies or novel reasoning--accusations of being judgemental; ignoring; and outright rejection. A good reason why someone might be reluctant to voice their personal opinions.
Critical thinking leads me to Profiles in Courage, which I finished in my pandemic frenzy of reading. My first caveat is that John F. Kennedy certainly should have shared the Pulitzer Prize with Ted Sorensen who did all, most, or some--depending on the book review-- of the writing of the book.  I decided to read the book because it was mentioned as illustrative of the contrast between senators who rubber stamp their party's opinion vs. those who act with courage.
JFK and Sorensen selected well-known and lesser known United States Senators from 1803--1948 to demonstrate courageous thinkers, willing to risk life, profession, political office, and status, to express their opinions. These men (women did not run for the Senate until 1932) developed their viewpoints of various bills in the Senate independent of the majority position. They processed their thoughts logically, carefully, and independently, based on their knowledge, values, and life experiences, in other words critical thinking. All of these men suffered greatly--some died prematurely. The senators were chastised by vociferous politicians, journalists, and voters. Young Senator John F. Kennedy believed these men to be deserving of recognition as courageous.

Thoughts from Rabbi Elliot Kukla

Rabbi Kukla is a rabbi in the San Francisco Bay area. He suffers from a chronic disease. His recent article in The J rang true to me. (The Jewish Bulletin of the San Francisco Bay Area)
The Coronavirus is not a blessing; there is no silver lining. The virus is a curse, like cancer and other horrific diseases that affect human beings. Anyone who proposes these ideas probably has not suffered, as uncountable humans have over the millenia. Bad, awful diseases, wars, relationships, diseases occur. Having a child with a disability of any sort is not a blessing. It is bad, bad luck. Destruction of any kind--whether it be disease, accident, or human-caused--is not to be valorized. Horrendous events facilitate creation, expression, a sense of purpose--to develop an improved world. One can appreciate the cleaner air and less traffic during the Pandemic of 2020. However, saying that this is the purpose of the virus is to ignore the human suffering. Cleaning the earth is a long-standing goal for all human creatures, not a crusade we follow when we are struck down by an illness.
Viktor Frankel, Holocaust survivor, proposed that our reaction to negative situations presents an opportunity for humans to demonstrate choice, creativity, and compassion. However, I doubt Dr. Frankel rationalized the killing and imprisonment of millions as justified--No. One is genocide; the other is learning in the face of adversity.
To return to Rabbi Kukla, relating the current situation to that of the Jews wandering in the desert after their escape from Egypt---
"In the open space that this pandemic bring to us, we have a chance to pause and begin building a new more just world."
"Like the actual desert, what makes moments of transition so unnerving, and so filled with potential, are the wide, open spaces, the huge arching skiy and expansive sandy plains of the desert."

Coronavirus 2020

Another grey day

Of solitary walkers

Hidden in their thoughts

Coming down the path.

“Watch out! That’s not 6 feet.”

My world has shrunk to a 3 mile radius.

Is this the last Spring?

Should I play the Rites of Spring?

I move through the day as if I am to survive.

I might not.

We live in a ghetto.

Pretty yes, well-off yes.

Beautiful flowers.

But the enemy lurks.

Invisible, deadly

As the Nazis.

Just not seen or heard or felt.

Lurking, no guns necessary.

Just weird round things with

Coral-like protuberances.

Orange/blue; red/blue.

Today I opened a letter from April 2, 1941, from my treasure trove of letters. I inherited hundreds of letters, that were hidden in metal boxes, in my mother’s guest closet, when she died in July. This letter is exactly 79 years old. Written in German, I translated the message, that was from my grandmother’s Uncle Julius to my grandmother.

They were in constant communication by letter. Topics ranged from family gossip to serious matters, such as attempting to save Elise, Julius’ sister and my grandmother’s mother and help her escape from Frankfurt am Main. The war was in full-swing in Europe. Chances of a 69 year old woman leaving Germany clandestinely were nil. Nevertheless, the relatives persisted. Julius was not in a safe place, enduring the incessant bombing by the Germans in London. His communication outside of England was limited due to the war. My grandmother Trude was safe in an alien land, struggling to survive in post-Depression America.

This was a generation of our elders who were well acquainted with social isolation, deprivation, and fear. Uncle Julius endured and survived The Blitz. His extended family had been scattered literally to the four corners of the globe. He feared for the life of two brothers and his sister. (The worst outcome came to pass.) My grandmother understood coping with the scarcity of items—from Depression to World War II rationing. She worried senseless about her mother (and never breathed a word of it to me).

The memory of Elise, Julius and Trude is a blessing and a reminder to be strong. I am certain they were frightened, as we are. Ours is an invisible enemy; theirs’ was the Nazis. Londoners spent the nighttime underground to avoid bombs. My great grandmother hid from probable deportation to an unknown terror. First, she was spared—as the healthy of us have been—but then the fearsome foe arrived. We hide from our nemesis, round balls with weird protuberances popping out—a virus.

As a child, I waited for World War III, part of my survivor’s guilt transmitted by my parents. If they—and all the Jews—suffered, then surely would I. I think my “World War III” has arrived in the form of a deadly virus and an ill-equipped country that should have demonstrated more foresight. So I wait now, in my house, for what is to come.

A Personal Interpretation SOCIAL ACTION AND THE CORONAVIRUS—19 (COVID-19) A.K.A.—This is not a drill.

                                                

            Coronavirus and social action, you ask? Strange notion, I know, given we are told “to wash our hands” and to “distance ourselves from others.” These seem like personal actions not social. But, by using proper hygiene, etiquette, and social distancing, we are protecting others. Every choice has social implications—always has—but now the stakes are higher and are life or death for some.

            Common Jewish ideas resonate--Tikkun Olam comes to mind—repairing the world, a concept found in the Mishnah, referring to helping those at a disadvantage. In this case, young people avoiding crowds, to stem the tide of disease, ultimately protecting older people. Tzedakah, usually thought of as giving money, can be the contribution of effort, time, and insight. Opting to be cautious in our public actions, to stay home, and lend a hand to a less fortunate person are all types of tzedakah. We demonstrate a mitzvah, an anonymous act of kindness, by following the local, state, and federal guidelines for social distancing and cleanliness during this pandemic. Every time one “catches” a cough in the elbow, one is potentially safeguarding others. Remaining at home, not going to your beach house, and changing your habits potentially saves many people from the current disease. These are mitzvahs.

I believe in the Golden Rule and the Talmudic saying—to save one life, saves many. Americans, generous indeed, continue to follow the mantra—me first. Even the seniors—who have been given a courtesy to shop in relative isolation—are hoarding. Obviously, the attitude is selfish and counterproductive. Whenever my daughter takes boxes of food off a market shelf, she notes, there are so many—six, ten—remaining for others to buy. Is the behavior learned or is it genetic? Regardless, a lesson for all to follow.

The frightening aspect of this pandemic is the unknown. The unknowable and uncertain commonly sends normal individuals into panic mode. We cannot shove the issue to a distant continent , for example, “Oh, Ebola is in Africa. Africa is very far away. And we certainly have better sanitation. We have hospitals.” As the King said (King and I)—“Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.” The usual protective  methods for denying our risk, devices to persist in a chaotic world, are useless at the present. For example, we rest easy at night because we received a flu shot and have no underlying conditions. Oh, and we go to the doctor, and even had the pneumonia immunization. And we are not old, are we? Yes, the risk increases with 60, rising in the 70’s and 80’s. Consequently, we relax. At the least, our children and grandchildren are safe. Not so fast. Reports flashed on our phones say that half of the hospitalized for COVID-19 are “young” people. There is no vaccination, and COVID-19 is in our city! Some of us are carriers of the virus.

In conclusion, we are one community; helping ourselves is protecting our neighbors. Wash your hands, do not go to the office, walk outside, keep six feet away from others, work at home or virtually, sing, dance, practice a musical instrument or give a concert on your balcony, read, paint, write, cook, eat, drink, pray and hope we can survive. This is real. There is no escape. I am just as scared as you are.

THIS IS THE REAL DEAL!

Karen Levi

March 20, 2020

Notes from The German Trauma by Gitta Sereny

     The book is a collection of essays, written from the 1970's to the very early 21st century. The writer, Gita Sereny, was born in 1923 in Vienna. Ms. Sereny was objective and fair. She is not Jewish but refused to comply with the Nazis. Ms. Sereny left her native Austria as a teenager. She gave up a career as an actress to become an investigative journalist. During World War II, she cared for orphans in France. Immediately after the war, she investigated the kidnapping of Polish children by the Nazis.
     Reading this book was informative and intense. There were times I had to catch my breath. The work is a compilation for readers who have a solid background in Holocaust history. The subject of the essays ranges from descriptions of the post war generation to the writer's experiences during the war to interviews with infamous actors from the period. I read most of the essays, but I skipped a few which were completely outdated. One caveat--I am the daughter of Holocaust survivors.
     The "baby boomers" of Germany grew up in homes, shrouded in mystery, similar to the children of Holocaust survivors did in the 1950's--1970's all over the world. The majority of Jews will squirm at my thesis (derived from reading the book). How can the children of victims be compared to the offspring of perpetrators or bystanders of unspeakable violence? To come of age in a household with unspoken questions and responses is to be ignorant of aspects of one's history, to be insecure and anxious. Growing up with parents preoccupied with unresolved emotions regarding past trauma results in unstable parent-child relationships characterized by the transmission of misundertood grief and guilt. Children assume their complicity in problems their parents experience. Irregardless that children cannot possibly be responsible. Sensing overriding anxiety in a household disrupts the normal psychological development of an individual. Youngsters learn dysfunctional means for dealing with relationships in a home permeated with angst, especially unexplained. The children born in the mid to late 1940's to 1960 in Germany were raised by adults who had witnessed various tragedies of World War II or that their parents were Nazis or fought as soldiers.
     The offspring of Holocaust survivors were born to parents scarred in terrible ways, whether they lived in a DP camp, the United States, or Israel. It is interesting that Germans became desentized to the war trials and the plight of the victims. Life moved on, and there was no time or an environment conducive to honest reflection of their complicity. This reaction is similar to the majority of survivors unable to share the horrors of the Holocaust with others. There were jobs to be done, children to be raised, and adjustments to a new life to be made.
     America in the 1950's and 1960's was not a place to speak about the dreadful attrocities of World War II. Native born Americans wanted to enjoy the plenty of the post war period and put the Depression and war behind them. Life was fun, pretty, and clean. West Germans wanted to eat again, clean up the rubble, and be accepted in the family of nations. And guilt was too horrible to ponder, accept, and communicate with others. Holocaust survivors in the United States of the post war period aimed to assimilate, procreate, and foremost to be American. No time to think about dead relatives or why the Holocaust occurred. "Holocaust Survivor" was not a designation yet. I dare say most wanted to be normal and left alone.Yet people still whispered, "she was in a 'camp'". And these "survivors" denied the hardships they endured. For German children, growing up, thinking about what one's father, grandfather, or uncle carried out during the war, had to be a living nightmare. Bad news is unpleasant. Not knowing is worse.
     The writer interviewed several criminals from World War II. She spoke with Franz Stangl in prison. Mr. Stangl compartmentalized, rationalized, evaded, and repressed his actions. He finally admitted "guilt" to Ms. Sereny and died the next day, still incarcerated.He was an uneducated man which was a commonality among Hitler's highest advisors and generals. Albert Speer was interviewed in his sumptous houses. And he was more arrogant and resistant to introspection. Not surprisingly, he survived prison. He used the word "guilt" in association for his wrongdoing during the war, but he fell short of admitting remorse and repenting. Ms. Sereny observed the John Demjanjuk trial in Israel that began in 1986. She felt he should have been aquitted due to inconsistent evidence, the age of the witnesses, the arguments of the prosecution and defense. The author agreed that this man was a liar and probably engaged in violent acts against innocent civilians. And she stressed that claiming that a case is faulty is not condoning murder and torture.
     The women in Hitler's life were a remarkable--not in a positive way--bunch. Leni Riefenstahl, the infamous actress and filmaker, loved Hitler, as did various secretaries. Hitler was attracted to beautiful women. Riefenstahl was a success in her own right; so why she attached herself to the madman is mysterious and bizarre. Again, extreme compartmentalization occured with these women's interactions with Hitler. Their observations and comments are mind-boggling and deeply disturbing. His final secretary calmly described meals with Hitler, attending to his needs, and transcribing his last will and testament. These females did not appear insane but must have been sociopaths in disguise.

"The blocking of memory is very simply the inability of the mind to take issue and deal with an experience which is unacceptable to the mind or spirit. It is very dangerous to block the mind: dangerous for the individual, his environment, but also in the context that has not yet even been touched upon tonight--to the whole community." Leopold Lowenthal (from The German Trauma by Gita Sereny)

You May Not Like These Ideas--Difficult to digest

"These perpetrators are like serial killers, only they operate on a much larger scale, at a national or continental level. They certainly are not terrified, and they know that most people cannot and do not want to think of the possibility of an act of genocide. Ordinary people want to sleep, and the simple thought of genocide can prevent an ordinary person from sleeping. The perpetrators of genocide bank on this to set up mechanisms for mass killing in all tranquility: No one will be able to conceive, hence accept and want to believe, the truth."
Patrick Des Bois The Holocaust by Bullets

I have heard this train of thought before, and I believe it is true. If one cannot believe that a heinous act occurred, one can push the act of violence out of one's mind and forget. We do this everyday, since we cannot overload ourselves with horror. I would be beyond despondent. What does one pay attention to and what do we overlook is a question difficult for me to reconcile. Irregardless, pushing the unthinkable out of conscious thought partially explains why, for example, the United States did not act sooner to destroy concentration camps or accept more Jews into the country immediately before World War II.
The same can be said for the increase in shootings that have occurred in the last 20 years, especially in schools. The idea was inconceivable until it was ultimately understood that school shootings were a phenomenon. Israel is another example. Not before I was actually confronted with Jewish settlements and Palestinian villages in the West Bank, did I accept that Israel was engaged in an "Occupation". Previously, I had thought that Jews were incapable of racist governmental and military policies. My understanding was facilitated by compassionate tour guides who showed me the truth.
I am fortunate because I have the gift of seeing and believing. When I was 17, and I boarded a transcontinental train and saw separate train cars for "negroes" and "whites", I knew something was not right. Especially, since it was already 1968, and the "negro" car steadily became hotter, smellier and dirtier while the "white" car had air conditioning and was cleaned. From then on, I began to understand that the unthinkable was possible. However, the process has been long and slow.
The closer one is to an awful event, the more challenging to accept. Could Jews really be in favor of treating Palestinians as less than human? Could educated Germans look the other way when their colleagues and coworkers were treated worse than animals? Yes and yes. The leap from ignoring a homeless person to condoning murder is short. We think, "It's not possible. There must be an explanation. So and so was asking for it." And then out of sight, out of mind.
I saw this process in my mother, who is a Holocaust survivor, as the current president began showing his true colors a few years ago--banning Muslims, putting Central Americans in cages at the border, condoning the actions of white supremacists. She said, "Oh no, those KKK members and white supremacists aren't Nazis. Ach, no." I was not equating them with the Nazis of Germany in the last century, but there are similarities. My mother was unable to make that connection; it was just too frightening, most probably.

"I am a person who unites with others to fight evil wherever it resides, knowing that one can sometimes be influenced and become its actor or instigator...I am convinced that there is only one human race--a human race that shoots two-year-old children. For better or for worse I belong to that human race and this allows me to acknowledge that an ideology can deceive minds to the point of annihilating all ethical reflexes and all recognition of the human in the other."
Patrick Des Bois The Holocaust By Bullets

As horrifying it is to realize that we are all humans, capable of differing degrees of atrocious behavior, the idea demystifies and clarifies how people do what they do. Everyday, we need to observe our actions and those of others. I am not suggesting that we are all potential murderers, but we are capable of cruelty. Treating others badly, to saying something vile, to joining up with others, especially in certain circumstances can happen quickly as history demonstrates; threatening violence and actually commiting an act in a moment of passion go hand-in-hand, as police records or the news reports every day. Vulnerable people looking at sites on the Internet to feeling a camaradarie with others on the site to actually joining a hate group is a common road. I have no idea what happened to these typical people who murdered Jews with impunity; but, I have a hunch, it was not a long route from the Nazi youth groups to the army to shooting perceived enemies.

The Argument for Serious Change

"...both principles and an insistence on engaging with a world that often doesn’t have space for them." Quinta Jurecic, Atlantic Magazine, 2/9/20

I read this quote in an article from Atlantic Magazine. The article focused on not losing hope or faith in our country, democracy, voters, etc. after the Senate acquittal of that man in the White House. The article did not add anything new, but the above quote popped out for me. And I thought, Bernie Sanders. That's the man who has principles and persists in a country that rejects his so-called Socialism. His brand of socialism does not scare me. With the exception of the extremely wealthy, there is not that much to lose for the balance of Americans. We will pay more taxes but get more in return. I already pay for my Medicare and extra costs that my supposedly good supplementary plan does not cover. I have very little coverage for dental care. No more acupuncture or psychotherapy, unless I pay out-of-pocket. Typical working people have high deductibles and skip going to the doctor for preventative carel
If one thinks of most Americans, they are worse off than me and my friends and relatives. All one has to do is walk into a Target, Giant Supermarket, or Walmart to observe who lives in our country--hard working, multi-ethnic/racial people, attempting to remain healthy, raising families, and hoping for the best. They are not the fancy schmancy elite. Most Americans are not the shoppers at Nordstrom or Whole Foods. I agree I am priviliged. I worked hard, as did my parents and grandparents, to achieve my economic level. I am not rich either, but I am probably a fading socioeconomic category.
It is time for the Baby Boomers to rise up again to protest what most people tolerate in our country. The majority of Americans frequently face expensive medical care, balancing budgets, and sacrificing summer vacations and other luxuries. They live in suburban/exurban subdivisions, crowded into mediocre townhomes, single family houses, or apartments. Their kids attend public schools and stay at home after school to wait for their parents to arrive from work. Those who are very bright and motivated succeed nonetheless; but many children are not thriving--doing their homework, eating healthy snacks, and going to an extracurricular activity every day of the week. These youngsters buy their snacks at 7-11 or CVS--chips, sweet drinks--and go home to play video games. They seem happy but are embarking on an unhealthy lifestyle. The sensible children go home; some are already on the streets doing who-knows-what. There is so much wrong, it is mind-boggling. What about our less well-off elderly, in sub-standard facilities or at their childrens' homes, mostly forgotten and ignored?
But, Sanders wants to make some radical changes. He will not achieve every goal he strives for, but the ideas will be seriously considered. We have to change, otherwise the problems of today will multiply during the next centuries. Unlike the Baby Boomers, the childrens' children of tomorrow will not know the same pediatrician for 18 years, visit a dentist regularly, get orthodontia, and go on vacations. Life will be different in all respects. But we need a leader with a humane vision, not one who lead people to a dystopian society.
I grew up in a home that modeled itself on the European lifestyle of the 1920's and 1930's. We ate healthy, were encouraged to be in the fresh air, attended camp, learned to swim, as a few examples. Our grandmothers took my siblings and me on outings and exposed us to music, art, and books. I did not live in an extremely stiumulating environment; my parents were too occupied with their wounds from the traumas of World War II. That European way of life has been over for many years. We, Baby Boomers, invented a stimulating lifestyle for our offspring, with varying degrees of protectiveness, indulgence and hyperactive pastimes. It was a post-hippie, natural foods, liberal, self-esteem oriented atmosphere, in which all children would succeed.
Now, several generations later, I am not sure where we landed. I see young parents popping unwashed blueberries in toddler's mouths, while the young ones watch educational videos on their parents' phones. They remain in strollers with pacifiers stuck in their mouths for longer than ever. If anything, the idea that all children will be brilliant has only increased. Kindness has taken a back seat, being best is popular. There are millions of children who do not eat blueberries, but they do watch videos of some sort. They do not get orthodontia at 9 or 10; they thrive or don't in school; they might attend church; and we hope for the best. The better off families have decent medical care, but the poor children go to the ER for a fever. Dentist, glasses? Only if their insurance covers these necessities, or they are fortunate to get medical assistance. Most high schoolers are obsessed with grades, test scores, and taking classes for which they are not cognitively prepared. STEM is in; writing, spelling, speaking, the social sciences are out! Vocational/technological training is still nil. We look down on our electricians, contractors, and plumbers, yet they have made excellent choices for practical and lucrative employment. More kids are going to post secondary educational institutions, which is promising. Their school debts are obscene.
Baby Boomer parents are already dying. Will we leave our grandchildren and great grandchildren a solid foundation or one that is crumbling into dust?