Post No. 209: Sneaking Peeps Down Rabbit Holes During Negro History Month

© 2023, The Institute for Applied Common Sense™

 

Many of us find ourselves complaining about the role of new media and social networking platforms in our lives, particularly that of kids.  Seattle recently sued Big Tech companies for a purported detrimental influence on the mental health of kids, which implicitly acknowledges the futility of parental involvement / responsibility.

While I appreciate the value of formal education in my life, it was not nearly as eye opening as two recent periods on internet platforms: (a) blogging since 2008 on Google’s Blogger platform; and (b) engaging folks on the Facebook group page I started, “Black Baby Boomers Who Seek a Better Future for All.” The page was prompted by my desire to better understand Donald Trump and the huge segment of the population, including Christian Evangelicals, who considered him akin to the Second Coming.

Consideration of and being open to widely varying, different views and positions, followed by revisiting our own, can't be anything but a good thing in my silly but pragmatic world. And here it was I thought that dementia was going to spoil the fun. One of our group page members has often forced me to use the phrase, "While I agree, I have a slightly different take...."

People on the platforms (and even friends throughout life), have always complained about the absence of hard and fast positions on my part regarding much in life.  I quickly disabuse them of that notion by informing them that I know the position that I would take should both Jessica Alba and Halle Berry pay me a visit, alone, and naked, should they be so inclined.

I was just saying yesterday that many of us in the late 1960s - early 1970s espoused anti-establishment views.  We campaigned against tradition and the old rules and values. Now, many of us appreciate how important they were in our lives and wish that we could bring them back, many of which cannot be rescued.  

The real institutions of value, I suspect, have changed with the times in some respects, but have continued to embrace the same fundamental rules and principles which existed long ago.  Consider, for example, the Seven Deadly Sins.

During my teenage years, I was the least experienced, least sophisticated, clueless creature on the planet, still trying to make sense of things.  It was a constantly changing landscape during those days, as it arguably should be with young adults.

In my dedicated effort to derive some modicum of benefit from my experience over the past 71 years, plus have forward thinking dominate my remaining years, history suggests that black folks have no choice but to at least intellectually segregate ourselves, take care of our own, build our own businesses and thus create our own jobs, with the ultimate goal of improving our communities as components of a civilized and evolved society.

I argue on a daily basis that while I consider it important to "appreciate” history, there is a danger associated with being consumed by the past, its wrongs, and wishful thinking. Interestingly, most protest and ask why I wish to deny our history; in response to which I ask, "Has humankind solved the racism issue?"

Black Baby Boomers are the last significant group with segregation, in all of its various forms, appearing prominently on our resumes. That's why duty requires us to seek a better future for all.  We, as societal members, ought to get the best out of that “learning opportunity,” as mucked up as it may have been.

In my view, every country and society, throughout history, has been built on gaslighting segments of the populace, beating them into submission, or instilling fear to suppress their interests. One of my partners used to refer to management as "herding cats," and the governance of citizens is most certainly not any easier.

Our challenge here in America is one of expectations in that our documents set a high standard. Reading the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and Lincoln's Gettysburg Address might make one stare up in the sky as if they were handed down by Providence.  I often use the term "aspirational" to describe them.

The stark, pragmatic reality is that humans will never live up to the ideals outlined. That doesn't mean that we shouldn't keep trying, and yet we should always keep in mind the inherent limitations of humankind. My favorite Clint Eastwood /"Dirty Harry" line is, "A man has got to know his limitations...."

So, the most significant difference between being 17 and 71 is simply more experience under our belts and thus the ability to reduce the number of stupid things we do.  But we still have to at least keep trying to engage others and keep taking peeps down potential rabbit holes. 

Simply put, rigidity is counterproductive.

P.S.  As I put the finishing touches on this piece, PBS was featuring a revival of the Youngbloods singing “Get Together.”

Post No. 203: Something Good to Wake Up To On a Sunday Morning - From Anne Lamott

I WAS ABOUT TO CALL IT A NIGHT, after eating a burrito (after midnight) as big as my upper arm running from my shoulder to my elbow, and after telling the clerk at the 7 - 11 how foolish I felt and that I was no longer 27, I re - discovered Anne Lamott on Facebook, who made it all seem okay, and placed everything into perspective:

"I am going to be 68 in six days, if I live that long. I’m optimistic. Mostly.

 

"God, what a world. What a heartbreaking, terrifying freak show. It is completely ruining my birthday plans. I was going to celebrate how age and the grace of myopia have given me the perspective that almost everything sorts itself out in the end. That good will and decency and charity and love always eventually conspire to bring light into the darkest corners. That the crucifixion looked like a big win for the Romans.

 

"But turning 68 means you weren’t born yesterday. Turning 68 means you’ve seen what you’ve seen—Ukraine, Sandy Hook, the permafrost…Marjorie Taylor Greene. By 68, you have seen dear friends literally ravaged by cancer, lost children, unspeakable losses. The midterms are coming up. My mind is slipping. My dog died.

"Really, to use the theological terms, it is just too frigging much.

 

"And regrettably, by 68, one is both seriously uninterested in a vigorous debate on the existence of evil, or even worse, a pep talk.

 

"So what does that leave? Glad you asked: the answer is simple. A few very best friends with whom you can share your truth. That’s the main thing. By 68, you know that the whole system of our lives works because we are not all nuts on the same day. You call someone and tell them that you hate everyone and all of life, and they will be glad you called. They felt that way three days and you helped them pull out of it by making them laugh or a cup of tea. You took them for a walk, or to Target.

 

"Also, besides our friends, getting outside and looking up and around changes us: remember, you can trap bees on the bottom of Mason jars with a bit of honey and without a lid, because they don’t look up. They just walk around bitterly bumping into the glass walls. That is SO me. All they have to do is look up and fly away. So we look up. In 68 years, I have never seen a boring sky. I have never felt blasé about the moon, or birdsong, or paper whites.

 

"It is a crazy drunken clown college outside our windows now, almost too much beauty and renewal to take in. The world is warming up.

 

"Well, how does us appreciating spring help the people of Ukraine? If we believe in chaos theory, and the butterfly effect, that the flapping of a Monarch’s wings near my home can lead to a weather change in Tokyo, then maybe noticing beauty—flapping our wings with amazement—changes things in ways we cannot begin to imagine. It means goodness is quantum. Even to help the small world helps. Even prayer, which seems to do nothing. Everything is connected.

 

"But quantum is perhaps a little esoteric in our current condition. (Well, mine: I’m sure you’re just fine.) I think infinitely less esoteric stuff at 68. Probably best to have both feet on the ground, ogle the daffodils, take a sack of canned good over to the food pantry, and pick up trash. This helps our insides enormously.

 

"So Sunday I will celebrate the absolutely astonishing miracle that I, specifically, was even born. As Fredrick Buechner wrote, “The grace of God means something like, “Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you.” I will celebrate that I have shelter and friends and warm socks and feet to put in them, and that God or Gus found a way to turn the madness and shame of my addiction into grace, I’ll shake my head with wonder, which I do more and more as I age, at all the beauty that is left and all that still works after so much has been taken away.

 

“So celebrate with me. Step outside and let your mouth drop open. Feed the poor with me, locally or, if you want to buy me something, make a donation to UNICEF. My party will not be the same without you.”