Happy Thanksgiving ...

When I was growing up me and my siblings couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving dinner to be served. I remember wanting to set the table for dinner as soon as the breakfast dishes were cleared. The smell of the turkey, which my mother had put into the oven about 4am, would waft through the house every time she opened the oven to baste it. I liked her new oven, because it had a window in the front and a light inside so we could squat in front of the warm oven and watch the bird turn golden brown. The smell of yams with brown sugar, three bean casserole, and pumpkin pie; it was the fragrance of plenty. Family and friends would begin arriving in the late morning hours, and laughter would fill ever room in the house. There were stories of future dreams and days gone by. Warm hugs and pinched cheeks enough for everyone. The house was over flowing with the sounds of life.

When the proverbial dinner bell rang, like bees to the hive we swarmed. The table was a beautiful sight; the best china, crystal, silver flatware, and real cloth napkins. Of course the children had their own table decorated with handprint turkeys, paper plates, Tupperware cups, plastic utensils and orange paper napkins. Ever year at least one teenager attained their rite of passage at the adult table. We would bow our heads and the eldest person at present would say grace. Thanking God for all he had given us, being sure to bless the hands that prepared the meal, and those who could not be with us.

As each of us grew and moved out in to the world the distance became too great to have the gatherings as those from our childhood. But I wanted my children to be able to experience the sights, sounds, smells of plenty. So I would invite people for to have Thanksgiving dinner with us, and prepare the traditional dinner I remembered from my childhood. However I added a new tradition to our family meal, before we could eat each person had to tell of something they were grateful for. We share our gratitude for the food and the one who prepared it, for those who are with us and those who are not, we are thankful for warm socks, a favorite blanket or perhaps new toy.

I have never needed to stop and think about what I am grateful for. It is the experience and expression of life (the good the bad the ugly). Every morning before I feel the warmth of the sun coming through our bedroom window, before I see the light of a new day, I feel gratitude. I feel it every breath, the breath that carries within it …Life. The whole of life exists within each breath and I am truly grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving Dear One, I am grateful for you!
Namaste

Elections: Just Another Transition

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

     Here we are the day after Election Day, some people are happy, some are not, but we all should be hopeful. Ultimately we all want the same thing, right? I recall in the days after the last Presidential election as I watch and listen to the inaugural speech of our new President without any preconceived ideas of the man or his race. Upon listening to the speech the first time, I was impressed with the eloquence with which he delivered his message of change and hope for the future. I did not see nor hear a man of any particular skin color. My ability to disregard the color of a person’s skin is rather good, actually. I have spent years working with all types of young children and not seeing a “race’ but a child. My 70 year old mother likes to take credit for her children being so open-minded and accepting of others who are “different”.

     I listened to the speech a few more times and then called my mother to see what she thought about the President of the United States. It turns out that she sees President Obama as a man of his word who intends to down-size government. She fears more what the other branches of government may have up their sleeves. As for me, I have chosen to stay away from the political debate altogether.

     I asked my mother how her father may have reacted to President Obama. She said that he would have been very upset about a black man being president. It would have been the sign of the end of the world. Apparently my grandfather thought that white men were superior to the “darker races”. I asked her if he would have preferred a woman president, and I thought she was going to fall out of her chair. “Oh, No! We are not ready for that yet!” I was a bit surprised to hear her say that in such a firm tone of voice. Even more so, when I realized that that was her opinion and not that of my grandfather. Or was it? So I asked her about why her father had felt superior to the black men of his time. Was he more educated? Did black people live so differently or have strange customs? What was it that made Grandpa think he was better? It seems that her father had a fourth grade education and couldn’t read, although he got really good at pretending he could. He spent his whole life working menial jobs, and living below poverty level and he had to see himself better than somebody or everybody would be better than him. It was better to be at the bottom of the white race than at the bottom of all the races.

     I asked my mother if she shared any of Grandpas beliefs. She said when she was younger she was very afraid of any black person, even small children. I asked if a person of color had harmed her or if she had ever seen a black person scare or cause harm to anyone. She had not, but the fear was real. Once while sitting in the car by the railroad tracks, some small children came near the car and were playing. She yelled at her brother to roll up the windows and lock the doors. I asked why, and she said, “Because that is what the adults always did.” I realized then, that I was having a second hand conversation with my grandfather, whom I had never even met. Although she says that she is not afraid of black people anymore, and that we are all the same under the skin, mixed marriages are still wrong.

     I could not resist the chance to push the envelope just a bit further. I told my mother that President Obama is not one hundred percent African American, and wanted to know if he were only five percent black and ninety-five percent white, would we have a black or a white president? She said that he would be “a black president, but maybe if he were really light (she) may be able to think of him as white.”

     As I listened to President Obama’s speech one last time, and pondered all the hidden heritage my ancestors had passed on to my mother; how much of that has been passed on to me, and how much will linger in my grandchildren and future generations. I would like to think the conceptual bloodline of human superiority would end with my mother, but through past conversations with my five siblings I have come to realize that they have a shared bond, chains if you will, of a prejudicial philosophy. However, their views have been altered in comparison with my grandfather’s in that they do not see the end of the world, but want President Obama to do well. How much of this is self-serving? I really don’t know, but I remain hopeful that future generations will observe the individual and not the pounds of flesh. We are undergoing transitions... as individuals, a country, and a universal community.

     Consider the leaves on a tree they all come from the same source; they are the same in every way except they are uniquely different in appearance. However each one experiences its transitions in different ways. Some are plucked from the tree to soon, some succumb to disease and die during its summer. Even those that last throughout the seasons transition into different shades and colors at different times.

     I am hopeful that as the world, the country, and we the people can be supportive of one another through all the transitions ahead.

Blessings, Namaste