Birdland

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There are birds nesting all over my front porch. They seem to like the ledges under the porch roof for building their homes of twigs and other plant matter. And while I complain that the nests themselves are unsightly, it’s so much fun to peek out the window and see baby robins lifting their little heads up looking for mama bird.

Today my world is a bevy of bird activity. I hear bird calls of all kinds, some sweet and lilting like a song from Snow White, others like miniature drills rat-a-tatting away. And there is a group of brown birds with soft red heads flitting back and forth from the rooftop to one of the nests on the porch. It looks as though the young ones are having flying lessons.

Birds seem like nervous creatures, always jerking their heads here and there, looking out for predators, no doubt, such as the giant hawk that soared over the house earlier today. Yet they themselves are predators, hopping across lawns searching for worms and grubs to feed themselves and their hungry young.

In the quiet of the morning, it’s peaceful to hear the birdsong and think of the busy avian life going on in our trees and on our front porch. I’ve always wondered what the nightingale sounds like, trilling away in the dark while other wildlife sleeps. On the famous Beatles’ song “Blackbird,” you can hear the melodic lilt of a real blackbird  singing.

In years to come when I have more time on my hands, I plan to take up bird watching. I’ll buy binoculars and maybe even one of those jaunty hats to wear out in the forest. Perhaps I’ll join a birding club so that I can learn more about the fascinating world of birds.

All in good time. First I need to have an empty nest of my own.

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Anne of Green Gables a Great Female Role Model

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Somehow in my childhood, I missed out on reading the Anne of Green Gables series by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Written in 1908, Anne of Green Gables and its numerous sequels tell the story of a young, red-headed orphan girl who is mistakenly sent to an aging brother and sister who live on a farm on Prince Edward Island, Canada.

Last week, I watched two delightful Canadian mini-series based on Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea, and I fell in love with Anne. While her story seems conventional enough and has a happy ending, Anne is a heroine to be reckoned with. Young girls would do well to use her character as a model for themselves as they grow into young women.

One trait I love about Anne is that she is not afraid to speak her mind. Even though she is an orphan and dependent on the mercy of the Cuthberts, who take her in on a provisional basis even though she is not the boy they had requested to help them with the farm, she asserts her opinions to the cantankerous Marilla and refuses to allow their gossipy neighbor, Rachel Lynde, to make her feel small. Later in the series, she continues her forthright and assertive ways, whether or not they lead her to trouble in school or to be fired from her position as a teacher.

Anne’s sense of self is especially impressive in her dealings with the opposite sex. On her first day of school in Avonlea, class hunk Gilbert Blythe pulls her red hair, and in response she breaks her slate over his head. Even though Gilbert insists he was only teasing, Anne refuses to back down and insists that his behavior is unacceptable (#MeToo). Gilbert is awed by Anne’s character and falls in love with her, not for her beauty, but for her brains. Throughout Anne of Green Gables, the two of them vie to be first academically.

In a rural 19th century environment, Anne is not content to be courted, settle down, and marry. She has dreams of bigger things and leaves the island to continue her education and be independent. Within the strictures of her time and place, Anne continues to insist upon following her own path, a path which eventually leads back to her beloved Avonlea.

But if Anne were simply an assertive go-getter, her value as a role model would be limited. What I love most about Anne is her unfailing kindness and respect for others. It is a respect born not of fear, but of compassion and empathy. In her young life, she too has suffered from others’ cruelty and indifference, so she refuses to be indifferent to the plight of others. A notable example is when she takes her first post as a teacher at a girls’ boarding school and wins over the cold and lonely spinster, Miss Brooks.

Watching the story of Anne Shirley unfold on the screen, I was pleasantly surprised to find a modern heroine in an old-fashioned setting. Far from being out of date, the stories in Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, and others in the series are just the ticket for young girls and boys to experience today.

For my part, I intend to correct the lapse in my youthful reading endeavors and pick up these timeless gems by L.M. Montgomery. Happy summer reading!

 

 

Suffer the Children

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Dear Jeff Sessions,

Here are a couple of Biblical quotations you might have missed:

Matthew 19:14: “But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

Mark 10:15: “Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.”

Don’t go quoting the Bible to justify the inhumane act of separating parents from their children. During the Holocaust, at concentration camps, the first thing the Nazis did was separate adults from children. As one victim of America’s shameful policy of Japanese internment pointed out, even he was never separated from his parents.

The spin being put on this horrifying immigration policy by the Trump Administration and the pundits on Fox News is making me want to vomit. Their excuses are simply lame.

The first one is that this is a long-standing policy that Bush and Obama followed. That’s just wrong. Except in extremely rare cases where the legitimacy of the parent/child relationship was in question, Hispanics crossing the border illegally were not separated from their children.

The Trump Administration’s second lame excuse is that the policy will deter illegal immigrants from trying to cross the border. Clearly that’s not the case when were are seeing literally thousands of children being warehoused in cages like animals.

The third excuse is that it’s all the Democrats’ fault! I’m surprised Trump hasn’t blamed Hillary and her emails for the policy. Seriously, Republicans. You are not going to weasel out of responsibility for this heinous violation of human rights that easily. (Of course, the U.S. has just left the UN Human Rights Council since it would be hypocritical to be a part of something it doesn’t actually practice itself.)

I’m not sure why, but when I picture Trump, Chief of Staff John Kelly, and Sessions cooking up this heartless policy in the Oval Office, I see them all in Nazi uniforms. I wonder if they stood at attention the way Trump would prefer all his underlings to do in front of him. After all, that wonderful guy Kim Jong Un gets that kind of treatment.

My favorite statement from these monsters was Sessions’ inane argument that if these immigrants don’t want to be separated from their children, they should leave the children at home. Say what?

I’d like Americans to picture the desperation a person must feel to undertake the perilous and difficult journey to come to America in search of safety and a better life. Now imagine how much more dangerous and difficult that trip would be with one’s own precious children. What the U.S. does about so many immigrants trying to obtain asylum in this country is open to debate. But whether or not to put their children in cages is not.

 

 

Great American Read

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Summer is the time for reading. There is nothing better on a lazy, hot day than to loll around in a hammock or beach chair and plow through a stack of good books. I favor more light-hearted reads and thrillers in the summer, but in the past, the summer was the only time I could master a tome such as War and Peace.

PBS is kindling an interest in literature through its program “The Great American Read.” Through a survey of random readers, it has culled a list of the most popular 100 books (or series) in America and is asking everyone to vote on their favorites. A series of television specials on PBS will explore people’s love affairs with the written word, and on October 23, the results of the survey will reveal the most beloved book or book series of all.

One of the things I love about reading is that it inspires conversation. I had been unaware of “The Great American Read” until my brother brought it up at a family dinner. What ensued was an animated discussion of various books. When Gone With the Wind came up, there was disagreement about whether it was a great novel. One sibling averred that it was a false and racist depiction of the South and America during the Civil War. Another countered that you can’t change history and that that was the prevailing sentiment in the South when the book was written in 1936.

The 100 book list is certainly diverse – not at all a snobby English teacher’s syllabus. I was personally appalled that Fifty Shades of Grey made the cut. I’m not a prude, but the writing style is atrocious. I couldn’t get through more than a chapter before I fell over laughing. On the other hand, some of my favorite novels are on the list: Beloved, The Joy Luck Club, To Kill a Mockingbird. And popular series such as Harry Potter,  The Hunger Games, and Game of Thrones show that the list has mass appeal.

The list of 100 favorite novels for “The Great American Read” is posted on pbs.org. You can vote for your favorites every day from now until the final results are tabulated in October. You can also find out how many of America’s favorite books you’ve actually read. I was disappointed to find out I’ve only read 43 of the 100. I guess I’d better hop in that hammock and get cracking!

 

Personal Touch Foils Prejudice

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Like many people, I am prone to snap judgments. Upon meeting or even seeing someone for the first time, I immediately make an assessment about their likability and character. That would be all well and good if my judgments proved to be unerringly right; but so often my first impressions have been dead wrong.

I can recall a girl in my high school English class whom I immediately characterized as a spoiled rich girl. She was impeccably coiffed, made up, and dressed, and she was not afraid to speak up in class. All this made me dislike her out of hand. As the school year progressed, though, and we were thrown together on class projects, I discovered the girl’s real self: an eccentric, witty, self-deprecating girl whose passion for literature matched my own. For her part, she had me pegged as a prissy goody two shoes based on the sole fact that I never crossed my legs. Of course, we became fast friends.

We all have our prejudices, and it’s probably a vestige of our survival instinct. Prehistoric humans needed to be able to assess danger within seconds in order to protect themselves. So they developed an ability to categorize an animal or other human instantly as either dangerous or safe. With the development of more sophisticated societies, these snap judgments remained while the need for protecting ourselves from outsiders dwindled.

Over the past 50 years, America has made great strides in civil rights. Even Martin Luther King, Jr. himself would probably find it hard to imagine the election of Barack Obama as President of the United States. Yet with the candidacy and election of Donald Trump, much of the remaining racism in our country has bubbled to the surface. Now more than ever, our citizens need to find a way to come together and surmount the deep-seated fears and hatreds with which we have grown up.

Here is where the personal touch can help. It’s harder to demonize whole groups of people when we have personal relationships with some of them. A case in point is the story of Chris Buckley, former Klansman and Army sergeant with an unyielding hatred of Muslims. Buckley’s wife reached out to an organization that helps white supremacists leave behind their hate-infused worlds. A member of that organization introduced Buckley to Heval Mohamed Kelli, a Syrian Kurdish refugee who had made a life for himself in America and is now determined to give back to the country that took him in. (Chicago Tribune, June 10, 2018)

Chris Buckley’s encounters with poor African Americans and with men like Kelli have helped dispel the fear and hate he had built up in his heart. Himself a drug addict and the survivor of an abusive household as a child, Buckley has chosen the path of compassion and help for others who are struggling as he has struggled for most of his life.

In my previous post, I wrote about how the personal touch can help us feel more connected and less lonely. But I believe it can do even more. Personal encounters with people of different races, religions, and social classes can bridge the gaps in our understanding and break down the walls of prejudice we have falsely convinced ourselves we need for protection.

Stories like Buckley’s make me hopeful that there is deep goodness inside each of us, and with some effort we can all bring out that goodness for the betterment of society and even for ourselves.

 

 

 

The Personal Touch

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030620-N-7391W-007Continuing in the vein of my previous post about dropping out of the digital age, I have been thinking a lot about what gets lost when we automate everything. The example I gave of walking into a Panera Bread and ordering from a screen reminds me that in small ways every day, we have the opportunity to make a personal connection or keep ourselves isolated. Not only does my choice to order my lunch from a live human being make for a more enriching experience for me, but it helps someone keep a job.

Automation has been costing jobs in all manner of manufacturing concerns for decades now. Even businesses touted for building plants here in the U.S. use very little human labor. And it’s hard to argue with the efficiency of making things more quickly, more perfectly, and at a cheaper cost. But automation is also affecting the service industry in many ways: ATMs at banks, self-serve kiosks at grocery stores, automated phone systems – all serve to keep us from having to speak to other people.

The other day I was recalling the job my older sisters had during high school. They worked as Directory Assistance operators for Bell Telephone Company. Back before  dialing 411 led to an impersonal and sometimes frustrating exercise in using voice recognition software to find a phone number, my sisters had huge telephone directories that they would flip through and scan as quickly as possible to find the numbers for businesses and residences all across Chicagoland. The job was demanding, and their employer exacting. But there were benefits to this “old school” style of providing directory assistance. Sometimes callers weren’t quite sure of the name of a business or had only a vague idea of the address associated with the person they were trying to reach. My sisters, with their encyclopedic knowledge of Chicago and its environs, could find the requested number by asking a few good questions. The personal touch helped them help customers.

The personal touch is something I think we need to retain in a society that is increasingly alienating in so many ways. It can help a young woman find the perfect dress for an occasion. It can help me decide which entree to choose on a large restaurant menu. It can give a person who is lost and in distress not only direction, but also sympathy and solidarity. Most importantly, having personal interactions with strangers every day can bring us out of our isolation and make us happier.

With the alarming increase in suicides in our culture, the last thing we need is to be isolated from other human beings. We are social creatures in need of conversation, touch, and the so-called niceties of regular human interaction. Sure, I may get through the line more quickly if I use the automated service. But I’ll take the human contact, however flawed and imperfect, any time.

Dropping Out of the Digital Age

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I’ve decided to drop out of this century. I realized I am hopelessly out of date today when I completed a survey for my local library. When asked about digital materials and library resources, not only did I have no use for them, I’d never even heard of most of them. No, dear library, I don’t want ebooks or audiobooks or apps on my phone. Just give me an old-fashioned paperbound book and a cup of tea, please.

Then I noticed articles in my newspaper about the gig economy, and I don’t even know what that is. Also, states like Alaska and Vermont are offering to pay people just to move there and work remotely for a company in another state. What is that? Whatever happened to the kind of job where you get up, get dressed, and drive or take the train or bus to an office/school/restaurant/store and work there for 8 hours?

My daughter’s schools and camps now insist that all documents be scanned and uploaded to their websites. No more mailing or even faxing! No wonder my postal carrier looks glum these days. Online classes and bill payments, electronic grade reports, medical MyCharts. Sure, I feel totally secure having all my personal medical information on the web -NOT!

There is some evidence that I’m not alone in my discomfort with runaway technological progress. A recent report indicates that a large majority of people aren’t comfortable with the idea of owning or riding in a driverless vehicle. Ironically, all the titans of tech in Silicon Valley send their kids to schools where use of technology is verboten.

I admit that I like the convenience of ordering online, Googling, and even playing games on my phone in doctors’ waiting rooms. The digital age has even made it possible for me to share these curmudgeonly thoughts with a wide audience.

But I lament all that has been lost as we focus on our phones and other electronic devices. Face to face conversation, cursive handwriting, letter writing – they all seem to be facing obsolescence. Let’s face it. Anyone under 40 is incapable of balancing their checkbook by hand. (My kids don’t even know what balancing a checkbook is.) Call me crazy, but I would rather order my broccoli cheddar soup from the Panera cashier than punch a bunch of buttons on a machine and make my lonely way to a table, where soon, no doubt, a robot will deposit my food.

So I am dropping out of the digital age. You will find me at the library reading real books and writing in my paper journal with a pen. And if you see me, please stop by for a face to face chat. I’m still doing those.