Patriots

It was through writing this piece that I realized a few things about patriotism. One is that each generation learns in its own way what it means to be a patriot. For us, it started in kindergarten, when we stood at attention and recited the Pledge of Allegiance every morning. We learned the words to the Star Spangled Banner and the Battle Hymn of the Republic. By high school we were debating the difference between our enemy, the Communists, and the enemy of our parents’ era, the Axis, and soon after graduation, my peers were drafted and shipped off to Southeast Asia. That’s when my ideas about patriotism started to shift and have continued to do so. 

You may have guessed that some of the headlines last week started this train of thought. The fake patriotism plan that was proudly announced by the NFL does nothing but remind us that the athletes who took a stand in 1968 - their patriotism in action - have not seen the changes they had hoped for. The prejudices my generation (and some of our elders) thought we’d worked through with our marches, protests, demonstrations and sit ins - our patriotism in action - are really still festering under the surface. 

It was my generation that learned the hard way to hate the war but not the warrior, but until we discovered that, we did much damage to those peers who served. We all need to remember that lesson and transfer it to the social and economic justice issues that we thought that we’d, if not resolved, at least made giant advances in changing. True patriotism is disagreeing with, even hating the stand that an opponent may take, but honoring their right to do so. True patriotism is a dialogue, not a shouting match.

Marilyn

As good as it gets

As good as it gets. An interesting phrase whose meaning ranges from acceptable to perfection. We’ve all had experiences, from meals to vacations to studying for an exam and used that phrase. We look at the arts and can stand in awe and wonder if Van Gogh is as good as it gets in brushstrokes and color or Melville with the opening of a novel? Luckily artists learn to emulate, experiment, and do their own as good as it gets in whatever medium they choose. In this musings, mine is words, and I think of one sentence Louis Penny wrote in The Long Way Home. In describing an artist she said, ‘he turned his pain into paint.’ That’s as good a description as it gets. Six words; the addition of one letter. 

Over the weekend there was the royal wedding, with its picturesque setting, picture perfect weather, and a wonderful blend of cultures, sentiment and sentimentality. That may be as good as it gets for true romance. We also had Pentecost and are in the midst of Ramadan, two important markers of major faiths, potentially representing some as good as it gets moments to some believers. Other people got married, there were baptisms, anniversaries and birthdays, and for some, those may be as good as it gets moments with family.

Unfortunately, some people in Texas experienced as bad as it gets moments and are now planning funerals. When it comes to too many critical issues in our world today, we have allowed leaders to settle for less than the acceptable aspect of as good as it gets in order to push deals through congress and with other governments. From gun control to opioids to education to the environment, we need sane voices from all sides of the issues to come together and broker more acceptable solutions. I wish we could hold out for perfection, but I’ll settle for better as good as it gets sensible answers than what we have now.

Marilyn

Treehuggers

Out at the Morton Arboretum I have scores of favorite trees. They appeal to me on some deep level for their shape, their color, their burls, their uniqueness. In New Zealand I saw trees that were alive two thousand years ago and have enjoyed being part of a ceremony where a young tree was planted in memorium. Somewhere there is a photo that shows an impish adolescent me after I successfully climbed a tree in our backyard. 

Trees, like our parents, come in all shapes and sizes. Some have roots that go deep and the sap that flows through them is passed to the sapling it inspired. Some are resilient, learning to bend with the changing winds. Others are mostly for show and have a short season; others offer shelter, shade and protection year round. While my mother and I were not close, a love of nature was something we shared. We could oooh and aaah over that sycamore I shimmied up and both get excited about the maple tree in the fall. 

Now that I have more age rings myself, I’m trying to focus on the positives and commonalities, so I’ve created an image in my mind. My mother is on one side of the blossoming Hawthorne tree my father planted when I was born; I am on the other. We both put our arms around the rough trunk and our hands clasp. I can forget that I wasn’t the daughter she dreamed of and that she couldn’t nurture as I needed. Here we can stand united, hugging a tree, and by extension, each other.

Marilyn

Making a move

Our first move is through the birth canal when we make our entrance into the world. From that point on we are often told to stop moving and keep still, but we move in, move out, move up or down, move away. We may join a movement or play the movements of a symphony. In dance or on a hike or making love we appreciate the moves our body can make. We strategize gambits in games, planning our moves while hoping to block our opponent’s, and hone our social moves to attract and meet people.

At the office I am constantly moving appointments, and we move the furniture in our conference room to accommodate the needs of those who are meeting. One friend is recovering from surgery, after being moved from emergency to a regular room, and is simply glad to be able to move her foot up and down and is anxious to increase her range of motion to go side to side. This morning the dark clouds moved in, even as elsewhere the earth shifted beneath its surface, forever changing some lives. 

We learn that people move in and out of our lives. We are lucky when we find those who move from acquaintance to friend to family of the heart. We also learn that, as in most other things, the timing of our moves matters. Each major move is a transition and can be as scary and thrilling as our first nudge out of the nest. Over the weekend a dear friend moved away. She worked hard for a year to be ready to move on as well as away. 

I’m sure you’ve experienced such situations, both as the mover and the one left behind. The words from the song Move On from Sunday in the Park with George came to mind. “Stop worrying where you’re going - move on. If you can know where you’re going, you’ve gone. Just keep moving on. I choose and my world was shaken, so what? The choice may have been mistaken, the choosing was not. You have to move on.” Whatever moves are happening in your life right now, “Look at what you’ve done, then at what you want, not at where you are, at what you’ll be...just keep moving on.”

Marilyn