What's happening, friends? Why is there a split down the middle of this great nation? Why is it "us" versus "them," red state/blue state, liberal/conservative...? What's causing the division? What is it when it's all boiled down?
A friend and I came to a conclusion recently regarding that question: Fear.
Fear that "it's all going to be taken away from us." Fear that "they want us all to speak a foreign language to accommodate them." Fear that some will have to make a huge sacrifice in order to help others. And fear that "they" are going to kill us and take over the nation.
Why have some leaders expressed a desire to see our president fail? How could anyone in a legislative role sacrifice something--anything that is good for the nation so they can sabotage the plans of a leader who's not a member of their own party? And how, when a hint of success comes shining through for that leader, can anyone pledge to not cooperate with him on future legislation that could benefit our nation and even the world? What drives that kind of childishness? Fear.
When Glenn Beck cried on television, what was he fearing? The loss of an America that once was? Was it a racist, priveliged, bullying America that he was mourning? (By the way, check out this video to see how sincere he really was: http://tinyurl.com/yktaoos )
Fake journalists with fabricated opinions spew hateful garbage about groups of people they deem threatening. Or, they'll take an idea and twist it into a grotesque concept (think "death panels"). This stinking garbage gets passed around in e-mails so often that it becomes a rallying cry for those who fear. The fearful receivers of the messages close their eyes and hit "send" to everyone on their list, and the garbage becomes more strongly woven into the fabric of fear.
But fake journalists are motivated by something other than fear: Ratings and advertising dollars. So they play on the fears of a believing public to acheive their goals. They whip the people into a frenzy and encourage them to shout down leaders in public forums. They cause them to blurt out hateful things in the halls of congress. Or to spit on those that they oppose.
I fear, too. I fear that if we don't work together, if we continue to fight each other, we'll tear apart a nation that has the potential to be great.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Thirty-seven years ago I was an eighteen-year-old exchange student to Costa Rica. I said goodbye to my Costa Rican “family” and promised them I'd bring my husband with me upon my return. (I meant to say “my wife,” but my fluency in Spanish at that time was still being developed.) I returned last month with a spouse (female), and we immersed ourselves in a week with family and friends. We threw away itineraries—each day was already planned for us. We enjoyed a volcano hike, a beach trip, a wedding, an island adventure, and an excursion to Sarchí, where traditional oxcarts are still made for tourists.
After thirty-seven years, there would be changes in the country; it was a logical, practical fact. Still, I was culture-shocked on our first night there, when my Costa Rican brother took us to an American-style supermarket. The central market in Alajuela with its fruit and vegetable stalls was all I knew from my previous visit. But in this brightly-lit store, those familiar foods were also available, only in shrink-wrapped frozen packages.
The traffic everywhere was an all day, bumper-to-bumper affair. Outside of Alajuela, cars jammed the freeway to San Jose and beyond, transporting their horn-honking annoyance to the little towns of the central valley.
Crime came along with Costa Rica’s lurch into the twenty-first century. The house where I stayed is still home to my octogenarian Costa Rican mother, but now it’s locked up tight with the unfriendliness of burglar bars. When my “mom” was grabbed from behind and robbed of her jewelry at ten-thirty one morning a couple of years ago, I’m sure that she, too was saddened by this transformation of her beautiful country.
My future/culture shock was softened by the still-beautiful countryside and its incredible flora and fauna. The commercialization of some places—like the beaches—are balanced by the forward-thinking government preservation of jungles and other natural treasures. Poás volcano, for example, is a well-organized, educational event. One memorable experience was our walk in an incredible national park with an old friend. A much longer walk in that same park with that same old friend is planned for our next trip to Costa Rica—a walk that won’t take another thirty-seven years to make.
After thirty-seven years, there would be changes in the country; it was a logical, practical fact. Still, I was culture-shocked on our first night there, when my Costa Rican brother took us to an American-style supermarket. The central market in Alajuela with its fruit and vegetable stalls was all I knew from my previous visit. But in this brightly-lit store, those familiar foods were also available, only in shrink-wrapped frozen packages.
The traffic everywhere was an all day, bumper-to-bumper affair. Outside of Alajuela, cars jammed the freeway to San Jose and beyond, transporting their horn-honking annoyance to the little towns of the central valley.
Crime came along with Costa Rica’s lurch into the twenty-first century. The house where I stayed is still home to my octogenarian Costa Rican mother, but now it’s locked up tight with the unfriendliness of burglar bars. When my “mom” was grabbed from behind and robbed of her jewelry at ten-thirty one morning a couple of years ago, I’m sure that she, too was saddened by this transformation of her beautiful country.
My future/culture shock was softened by the still-beautiful countryside and its incredible flora and fauna. The commercialization of some places—like the beaches—are balanced by the forward-thinking government preservation of jungles and other natural treasures. Poás volcano, for example, is a well-organized, educational event. One memorable experience was our walk in an incredible national park with an old friend. A much longer walk in that same park with that same old friend is planned for our next trip to Costa Rica—a walk that won’t take another thirty-seven years to make.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
A Good Christmas
This Christmas was a good one for me. We we spent time with the family--two days of playing with grand-kids. And there was dominoes at night. I came in third place out of four. We ate well, too, and tried two new beers from the brewery.
It snowed and there was ice, but we got home safely. We rested. It was good.
The best part of Christmas was a phone call I made to my brother. I hadn't heard from him in close to three years. I was resentful about that, and that was wrong. The resentment goes against my Christian beliefs. (I constantly have to remind myself of those beliefs.)
Over those three years, my brother hadn't returned a couple of phone calls, even after I left messages. He never responded to any email messages, and he never sends any kind of yearly Christmas wishes. I was hardened against him, and that was wrong. I missed talking to him, because our conversations were always very interesting to me (those times long ago when we did converse). My brother's interests in movies, his eclectic tastes in music, and his outlook on life all make for stimulating conversation. I missed that.
This Christmas, I felt the need to try again, so I did. I called. The phone rang several times, making me think this would be another failed attempt. But he picked up. And the first thing he mentioned was his regrettable lack of communication. I understood that it wasn't against me. That's the way he is. And he apologized. We conversed, and we enjoyed the conversation. It was like there was no three-year gap. We talked for quite a while. It was good.
Merry Christmas.
It snowed and there was ice, but we got home safely. We rested. It was good.
The best part of Christmas was a phone call I made to my brother. I hadn't heard from him in close to three years. I was resentful about that, and that was wrong. The resentment goes against my Christian beliefs. (I constantly have to remind myself of those beliefs.)
Over those three years, my brother hadn't returned a couple of phone calls, even after I left messages. He never responded to any email messages, and he never sends any kind of yearly Christmas wishes. I was hardened against him, and that was wrong. I missed talking to him, because our conversations were always very interesting to me (those times long ago when we did converse). My brother's interests in movies, his eclectic tastes in music, and his outlook on life all make for stimulating conversation. I missed that.
This Christmas, I felt the need to try again, so I did. I called. The phone rang several times, making me think this would be another failed attempt. But he picked up. And the first thing he mentioned was his regrettable lack of communication. I understood that it wasn't against me. That's the way he is. And he apologized. We conversed, and we enjoyed the conversation. It was like there was no three-year gap. We talked for quite a while. It was good.
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
To My Health!
I really believe that I'm healthier now than I ever was in my life. With my new moderate exercise program and my attention to caloric intake, my weight is going down and my overall energy level has increased.
Since I'm in my fifties, awareness of my mortality is heightened. At times that can be depressing, but we're all on the same path, aren't we? Why not make the best of it and live out our lives in good health?
That's what I'm doing. That's my committment to myself.
Since I'm in my fifties, awareness of my mortality is heightened. At times that can be depressing, but we're all on the same path, aren't we? Why not make the best of it and live out our lives in good health?
That's what I'm doing. That's my committment to myself.
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