So Much Cheer

A migraine and too many things to do that I really don't want to do have led me into a funk. So I am writing as therapy. It has been a drizzly day in the 30s--the kind of weather I appreciate. But the front moving through the area is playing havoc with my sinuses, and I have had a couple of nights this week when sleep was elusive. Now I need to gear up for two Christmas parties tomorrow. So much cheer might just do me in. Maybe I will just retire early with a book of Christmas mysteries and forget obligations and other worries for a while.

Pandas

I got an email from the World Wildlife Fund today entitled "Make the Holidays Panda-themed." So I was wondering if I could configure bamboo into a Christmas tree ( or "Holiday" tree for the politically correct).  I could arrange shoots like cornstalks are used for fall decorations around lampposts. Then everything else would be in black and white, of course. I can see the little stuffed ornaments and foil garland shaped into tiny Chinese characters wishing happiness and luck. I feel a Pinterest post coming on.

Ferguson V

On Wednesday night there was another example of illogic.  My husband and I had retired early to be cozy and watch an Agatha Christie mystery on PBS.  Our bedroom is at the back of the house and I heard something similar to a dumpster lid slamming in the alley.  Normally, I would not think twice about the "thump" but this week has not been so normal, so I peeked out between the blind slats.  There were two figures ascending the steps from the gangway between the school next door and our house. Then they hesitated in front of a crumbling ash pit bordering one of the houses that face the street behind us. By then my husband and I were pretty interested in what the two teenage sized figures were doing. After a few moments they returned to the gangway and there was more noise. Considering the vandalism of Monday night in our area, I called 911 to report the suspicious behavior while my husband dressed and went downstairs and out the door to check on the situation. When I hung up the phone, I opened the window and asked my husband, who was by then in the alley, for the prognosis. The teenagers, our impression of their age, were running up the alley after having broken a large, plate glass window next to the school entrance with a loose brick from the ash pit. So I again called 911 with the more urgent information about the attempted break-in. The criminal mischief makers escaped. The police came. I could not reach the principal on his cell phone, but I am guessing there was an alarm sounding at some remote location. Within the hour, a couple of men boarded up the window. The rest of the night was peaceful, although getting to sleep was difficult.
The illogic is that there was no accompanying protest that evening. The building is a school, a non-offensive establishment. And the particular school is a public charter school which serves a population that is 90+% African American. The next day my daughter reminded me that anger does not necessarily pair itself with logic. I know that.  I also understand that the two people who broke the window may have had nothing to do with the core of the protests, that they threw the brick on a lark. But the breakage becomes part of the larger narrative being read by people who do not know or understand these particular details. I am beginning to recognize how easy it is for a narrative to get away from its purveyors. 

Ferguson IV

This is night 2 of the Ferguson Announcement. Media have had a day to dissect and interpret for us. Businesses on South Grand, around the corner from my home, have had time to board up broken windows. Some volunteers have even painted murals on the raw plywood. And I am checking myself for signs of fear. Some of what I feel could be termed fear, I guess.  I am afraid that damage to small businesses and even franchises might cause them to move away. I am also not looking forward to another night of dumpster fires and broken glass, close by, and major destruction, in Ferguson.  But what I connect with viscerally is anger. I am angry that a young black man's life ended tragically, angry that a young white policeman's life has been all but ruined, angry that idiots who claim the business owners "have insurance" break glass, set fires and loot. I don't want to hide or cry. I want to punch someone. Does that mean I understand the anger of some of the protesters? Maybe, but I know that long term hard work is what we need, not short term violence fixes and media ops.Maturity and compromise may not be glamorous but they just might work.

Ferguson Again

The following activity is one I never considered trying at 1:10 a.m., or any other time for that matter. I donned a sweater (about 28 degrees outside) and walked the 100 feet or so to the end of my block to thank the young National Guardsman who was stationed on one of the buses blocking access to my street. Ferguson continues to add the surreal to my life.

Ferguson Decision

And now we have a couple of hours of healthy anticipation.  What am I saying?  We have been anticipating since late August.  It's been months of low level anxiety punctuated by occasional moments of abject terror for many people in the St. Louis area.  Now we have the announcement that the announcement is about to be announced, some time this evening.  I love this living on the edge. It makes everyone so pleasant.  The spates of protesters and their shadow journalists have halted traffic, closed businesses, frightened the faint of heart, given their allies something to rally around, encouraged their enemies with "proof" of ill will, and angered many good-hearted people who have tried to live their lives rightly and would gladly cooperate in change if facing persuasion rather than intimidation.  Rather than ask, "What is wrong with this picture?" maybe the question should be, "What is right with this picture?"
At least, if we people of Ferguson and the St. Louis area are investigating our motives and our shortcomings, we are blessed with good counsel in the form of outsiders, pundits who know nothing of our city or our history.  
And I am not just a nay sayer.  I am willing to admit that we are not where we should be, and I believe improved education is a major component of righting our situation.  Better schools are not only possible, they are also imperative.  Education can be the great equalizer, but, surprisingly, burning down the local QuikTrip does not improve the schools even indirectly.
Worse, I believe, than the few unruly protesters have been the anarchists who have hacked into police and judicial official's lives compromising personal information, making threats, pushing families to flee. Fear is a powerful motivator, but it only lasts for a while.  Then flight or fight take over.  Those who remain may be fatigued but they are also angry, not the best atmosphere if real change is the goal.

Other Evil

There are other evils in our city and county.  My 29 year old daughter was mugged a week ago tonight.  she and another young woman were walking to that woman's home, a 2 block walk, at about 11 p.m.  They had been at a popular bar and grill.  Shaw neighborhood should be safe only a couple of blocks north of Tower Grove Park.  Any neighborhood should be safe. But a coward hiding behind a bandanna and a hand gun jumped out of a vehicle and surprised my daughter and her friend from behind. Neither of the young women is wealthy and some of the stolen items, like a silver necklace from Korea, cannot be replaced. Whatever things like bike tools in an old backpack fetch at a pawn shop, the new ones will cost far more. As inexcusable as the sentimental and monetary losses may be, another element of the crime fosters contempt. The real violence of a gun threat, of having a gun held to her head, traumatizes a person and makes trust difficult to rebuild.  The criminal committed not only that assault, but he reached into their shirts and groped the young women adding some vile commentary while supposedly in search for more loot.
My daughter has wondered aloud what in the robber's life must have propelled him into crime.  Right now, I don't care.

Ferguson

I had decided to share my thoughts on the Ferguson miasma but several life circumstances intervened. No better time than the present, however, to get to my intended rant.
Rant may be too strong a word. I have been both angry and sad about the events occurring in Ferguson the past few weeks.  Frustration has also been pretty overpowering.  I want to fix it, whatever "it" is. Michael Brown should not have died.  There should not be a grieving mother, an injured policeman, business people losing their livelihoods to looting scum, outside agitators and media crowding the tiny suburb.  But this is the reality.  Whatever happened that Saturday afternoon, there are now a dead teenager, a mourning family, a ruined police officer and family, burned and damaged businesses, people from Detroit and Texas who have been arrested during unruly protests, and media and other outsiders stirring the pot for their own reasons. How can we ever dig out from under all of this?  
School started finally this week in Ferguson, a sign of normalcy.  Mr. Brown's funeral was Monday. Some of the outsiders have gone on to new pastures.  Now come the weeks and months of navigating the justice system heading toward an indictment of Officer Wilson, or not.  The law suits have already begun.  This death has become a flashpoint for some like Al Sharpton and the New Black Panther Party.  Anger over other incidents and racial prejudice in all its forms has surfaced and swept over  the lives of Brown and Wilson and their loved ones.  What galls me is that there is a truth under all of this that we may never know. Truth has become beside the point.  
Her are a few more observations:

• Looting is just wrong.  I want to bathe after I encounter the activity.
• The ethnicity of a person does not make that person unable to deal with people of other backgrounds.
• Even good eyewitnesses often do not get the whole story.
• Using people who are suffering is evil.

When I pray, I remember both the policeman and the dead young man, and their families. Maybe that is the best most of us can do.

before I write

I came upstairs to the computer to write about the last couple of weeks in my life, but now that I have read a few blog postings from others, I have lost my ambition. The weeks have been difficult and I am trying to work through the detritus. I believe focusing on a specific problem or emotional response is suggested by some professionals. Focus, however, is not my strong point.  If I can whittle my attention down to only a handful of thoughts at one time, I am doing well.
In summary (a phrase I direct my students to avoid), I need to better organize my current brain activity before I write.

Consulting

Has it really been a year?
I came across the following cartoon and it sums up what I feel about much of what goes on here in St. Louis and across the world.

I could fix so much if only I were consulted. . .