Hatred Run Amuck in America

Posted on July 10, 2016 by sheilawill

“Do you know how lucky you are to have been born on this patch of land we call America,”  I often asked my high school students 20 years ago. Many of them looked at me shell-shocked.

It’s just the way it is, they probably thought.

Last month, I was distraught about itchy little bumps that appeared all over my body overnight, for three solid weeks. Or gee, how terrible that we can’t go hiking because it’s pouring rain.

First world problems, yes. Privileged American concerns, yes.

It’s just the way it is should never be the answer to violence run amuck in America. Even if I’m preaching to the choir, I can’t stay silent. So what can any of us do about this sickness, this runaway racism and hatred, including mean-spirited rants by a presumptive presidential nominee?

In my humble view, the deterioration of the so-called American dream isn’t surprising, with around 1 percent of the U.S. population possessing resources equal to around 90 percent of the population. Of course people are angry. Also, many Americans been terrified since 9/11.

The sad part is that exploiting the anger of millions of Americans has become a scapegoat for  some of the wealthiest among us, a way to maintain their status.

Yeah, those poor schlumps, those 47 percent, won’t take their frustrations out on us rich folks if we divert their attention to “the other,” or the government that’s out to take their guns…(Didn’t he-who-shall-not-be-named say he liked the uneducated?)

So what can we do about this epidemic of racism, this overwhelming inequality, heightened by fear, increasing the preponderance of guns?

Racism has been a long time comin’ (or never leaving), and it will be a long time [till it’s] gone.

Finally, after the horrendous attack on Dallas police, Trump came out with a staff-written statement citing over-the-top divisiveness (at least he took a day off from spewing hate).

Sure, I’m preaching to the choir, but in the short run:

Vote all the NRA-owned, do-nothing robots — covering their own asses — out of office in November.

Democrats, consider U.S. Rep. John Lewis (D-Georgia) as your vice presidential nominee. He knows how to get shit done and he’s not afraid of anyone.

In the long run:

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Teach your children well. Read “Teammates” to the very youngest ( ages 4-8+). I’ve never forgotten this story of the friendship between Pee Wee Reese and Jackie Robinson. It shows kids that you must speak out, to the extent that you can, whenever possible.

There’s no way for white Americans to know the sickening fear that black parents feel for their children, especially their sons. I can’t imagine what that’s like. One of the best books I read all year opened my eyes: “Between the World and Me” by Ta-Nehisi Coates.

Read/discuss “The Warmth of Other Suns. The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration” by Isabel Wilkerson for an understanding of what various black Americans have experienced since slavery (no group is homogeneous).

I turned 70 last month. Perhaps I have a little wisdom as an elder, a mother, a former teacher, bookstore owner, and journalist. I believe in the decency of most people.

Ultimately, aren’t we all on the same team?

 

 

 

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‘Ladies and Gentlemen and Dear Children…’

Posted on June 2, 2016 by sheilawill

Little did I know that an airline announcement would have such an impact on me. I took eight flights on Turkish Airlines during “Sheila’s Excellent Adventure” last month. Each time the pilot began a mundane English announcement with “Ladies and gentlemen and dear children,” my heart melted.

What American airline or political policy addresses children? It got me thinking.

America, America. We’re so rich, so advanced?  It’s surely backward for our public policy to not focus on the happiness of children.

The children I saw in Kyrgyzstan were so beautiful, especially those in the village of Barskoon near Lake Issyk-Kul, where we stayed for three days. Plus, they looked happy and healthy.

Sure, Kyrgyz children don’t have the benefits of most children who grow up in America. But how many in our country are poverty-stricken and unhappy?

In Barskoon, even little kids seemed free to roam safely, to play outdoors without fear (although I feared the fast cars periodically racing down the one paved street).

From our tiny guest house balcony, I watched a toddler rambling down a dirt road behind a cow. By himself. Humming a tune. His parents weren’t chasing after him, weren’t petrified about some hateful person doing him harm.

“It takes a village” to raise all the children felt true.

Sure, Barskoon felt backward. It’s an old-world place with a subsistence economy.

Our guest house had a modern bathroom, but the toilet would only flush from 7 a.m. till noon, after which water was reserved for agricultural purposes.

Cows and horses meandered everywhere. Early one morning, I wandered down a dirt road with old wooden houses, each with a garden, one after the other on both sides. This was the closest I would ever come to the shtetl where my mother was born in pre-revolutionary Russia, which later became part of the Soviet Union, as Kyrgyzstan also did. The “Soviet time,” as locals refer to it, ended in 1991.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the Kyrgyz children, who look more Asian than European. These two beautiful girls stood shyly on the side of the road where we were walking one afternoon.

Giggling, they came over to Steph and me and handed us each a bouquet of lilacs. One girl smiled, saying “America,” and flashed the peace sign.

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This brief encounter was a highlight of my trip to the other side of the world. And the lilacs…they always make me happy.

 

 

 

Posted in Neuroscience needs me, politics, The inconvenient truth about education, The Rest of the World, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The past is never past

Posted on April 25, 2016 by sheilawill

“Great minds think alike,” the woman said to me. With iPhones held high, we were both walking toward the desert century plant in the parking lot.

About to hop in my car after Pilates class, the tall stalk of the Agave americana had caught my eye.

“I’ve lived here 13 years and I’ve never seen anything like that,” I said.

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We both snapped photos. I caught a certain lilt in the woman’s accent.

Reaching out my hand, I introduced myself and asked, “Where are you from?”

“The North Shore of Boston,” she replied.

“Oh wow, when I lived in Cambridge back in the early ’70s, I went to a coffee house in Ipswich. Saw Bonnie Raitt there a few times before she became famous.”

The woman, who was about my age, stared at me.

“My husband and I ran that coffee house. It was called Stonehenge. The J. Geils Band also got its start with us.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Wait till I tell my husband!” the woman called out as she got in her car.

Two women from the ’60s, sharing a bit of the past that hadn’t fully passed. We laughed about her now 50-year-old son, who thought it was normal for a little kid to grow up  steeped in the rock ‘n’ roll scene.

Nature is a good conversation starter, but rock ‘n’ roll will never die.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Baby Boomers, Bopping Around Tucson, It's only rock 'n' roll, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Chocolate-covered coffee beans at a historic hotel in Flagstaff, Arizona

Posted on April 24, 2016 by sheilawill

A handful for twenty-five cents. That’s right; the same amount of chocolate-covered coffee beans from Godiva or any other hoity-toity chocolatier would be at least two dollars. We probably ate at least fifty each. We were on a mini-vacation, so I’m talking any time of day or night.

Our trip to Flagstaff, staying at the Hotel Monte Vista, was a warm-up for upcoming longer journeys, Dan driving/ cycling cross-country in his van, while I gallivant from Boston to Turkey to Greece, to the other side of the world.

Chocolate-covered coffee beans contributed to a small taste of adventure. What can I say? At home in Tucson, we lead pretty quiet lives.

To the right of the hotel’s registration desk (and our beloved candy machine) was a   vintage-hip bar. It was Mojito Monday ($5)! I simply had to imbibe.

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Registration at the vintage-hip Hotel Monte Vista 

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What fabulous little nuggets!

But food must come first, we smartly decided. Shrimp and grits topped with a bit of barbecued pork was my choice, along with a yummy happy hour margarita at the ultra-cool Latin restaurant a few doors down.

Hitting the Monte Vista bar had been on my bucket list ever since I first laid eyes on it five or six years ago. It was so inviting, so western.

“The blackberry mojito is my favorite,” the desk manager told us. It was a yummy after-dinner delight.

We were asleep by 9 p.m.

We didn’t only drink and eat on our getaway, honest.

Heading outdoors is always high on my list.

The next morning, Dan wanted to show me Tonto Natural Bridge State Park. Underneath the giant arch, we made our way around sleek pools of water. Higher and higher we climbed. We survived, but not without some scary steps up the steep, slippery rocks. Thrilled to emerge safe and sound, we ran into two young men. One had peyot (curly sidelocks), tzitzit (stings hanging out of his shirt), both sure signs of Orthodox Jewry. I started singing a Passover song in Hebrew. Maybe I was thanking the Jewish God for getting me through in one piece (Dan had already figured out a way to save me if I fell).

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Yup, looks like another planet under that giant arch!

“How do you know that?”the regular-looking young man asked. The religious one, perhaps he was Israeli, stared at me. Maybe had never seen a woman my age with purple-streaked hair climbing over huge rocks, or not wearing a sheitel (wig). Anyway, I wished them both a happy Pesach, surprising myself that I would say that (I tend to ignore the holidays of my heritage).

But isn’t life about surprises?

Sometimes I’m still astounded that I live out west, near the old, old West of 800 years ago. The Wupatki Pueblo knocked my socks off. Secluded in the desert around 40 miles outside of Flagstaff, I could imagine gentle humans living there. The U.S. national monument literature made a point of saying that all native peoples were welcome.

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That was last weekend. On May 3, I’ll take off on Sheila’s Excellent Adventure, the highlight reaching the other side of the world, Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, where I’ll visit my fabulous son and daughter-in-law, Ethan and Steph. They’ve booked a three-night stay for us at an old Soviet resort at Lake Issyk-Kul. Mineral hot springs, horseback riding around the  world’s second largest alpine lake (I’ve never been on a horse), and who knows what else awaits me? Stay tuned…

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Family Matters, Fight wimpiness, Food/happy hours, Nature Girl, The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Kisses to the world, ‘Optum’ to Turkey

Posted on March 26, 2016 by sheilawill

“Oy Vey’Izmir” (a type of desert kvetch), says Jordan, when I ask what part of Turkey Buket’s from. I wish I had snapped a photo of these two young folks sitting next to us this morning at our Frank’s breakfast.

“Is that your car with the Vermont plates?” I ask about the car facing us in the lot across the street. Ok, I already had a few cups of coffee, not that I need any encouragement to speak to strangers.

“Yeah, I don’t really live there but I like to drive around and have people yell, ‘Yay Bernie,'” replies Jordan (whom I had already determined shared my heritage). He’s a freelance translator and Buket is a fifth year Ph.D student in chemistry at the University of Arizona.

Turkey talk ensues. Buket laughs when I repeat the two Turkish words I know — Optum and Merhaba (hello). In about five weeks I’m going to Antalya to visit friends, I tell her, the start of my big birthday trip.

First stop below, Antalya, Turkey.

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Of course, Maine comes up (Hell, it’s near Vermont). Turns out that years ago Jordan stayed in the Southwest Harbor home of a woman who made “Dogs are People” jewelry. (Anybody know who it is? Do I know this woman? Probably, but it’s not ringing a bell at the moment.)

The world is small. Our hearts are big. There are so many ways to connect with other people, most of whom are kind, friendly and curious, as I am. I’m excited and nervous about my trip. So far away, so much flying. Time by myself in strange countries.

I wish I had asked Buket where I should go if I got to Izmir, any of her family I should visit?

No matter. Our chance encounter reminds me that I can make friends anywhere. And really, aren’t we all of the same heritage?

When we all get up to leave leave, we shake hands. “Nice to meet you,” says Buket. “Have fun in Turkey!” I will, I will.

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Sunset in Kas, Turkey. Thanks to Pat for the photos.

 

Posted in Bopping Around Tucson, Fight wimpiness, Mount Desert Island/Maine, politics, The Rest of the World, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Getting out the vote in Arizona

Posted on March 19, 2016 by sheilawill
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Bernie at the Tucson Convention Center, March 18, 2016. Photo credit: Tucson Sentinel

Do I care that Bernie’s Jewish? Nope. I don’t think that he cares either, nor do I think that anyone else cares, and that’s the beauty of it.

I care that he’s a Democratic socialist, which aligns with my political philosophy. I’m Jewish, too, a fact of my heritage, my DNA.

A Jewish Facebook friend posted that he took his young son to hear Bernie at the Tucson Convention Center last night, because he’s “a Jewish socialist” (although this acquaintance is a Hillary supporter).

I guess he’s proud that Bernie’s Jewish. Is he proud that Bernie’s a socialist? I don’t know.

It’s odd to me that we draw attention to someone’s background when it seemingly has little to do with the issue at hand. We all do it, whether it’s conscious or not.

In my last post, I noticed that my three favorite sessions at last week’s Tucson Festival of Books featured Jewish writers; they were so smart, so funny, so insightful, so compassionate.

I noticed. I’m usually in denial about my Jewish identity. Maybe I was proud, too. Maybe I care more than I thought I did?

What I care most about is open-minded consideration of a presidential candidate, foreign policy, or political philosophy, because it aligns with my beliefs and makes sense to me as the right thing to do, not because of a slapped-on label that’s supposed to be me.

We’re all more complex than that.

 

 

Posted in Bopping Around Tucson, politics, Tucson Festival of Books/good books, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

Tucson Festival of Books: Return of my Past

Posted on March 15, 2016 by sheilawill

Should I have gone to law school? Making the decision to not attend Vermont Law School, when Brook was 2 years old, wasn’t easy. I can let it go now, even as I listened to the brilliant and very funny Linda Hirshman, an attorney and the author of “Sisters in Law” (about Justices O’Connor and Ginsburg), at the 8th annual Tucson Festival of Books.

Was it just yesterday that I read “Death at an Early Age” by Jonathan Kozol, and discovered that the Boston schools were as segregated as many schools in the South? In the early 1960s, Boston School Committee Chair Louise Day Hicks was adamantly opposed to school bussing for desegregation (who could easily have been Donald Trump’s mother; that’s how bad she was). When she ran for mayor in 1967, her slogan was “You know where I stand.”

Saturday morning, I helped Jonathan Kozol get to his TFOB venue on the University of Arizona campus. He’s pretty old now (way older than me), crotchety but still sharp. And he’s right:

“We still run an apartheid education system in America.” We’re also succumbing to a “misery agenda” of testing and terror, which is inflicted on both kids and teachers.

I also agree with Kozol regarding the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, among others. Charity is not a substitute for systematic inequality.

Jared Diamond’s session (he’s the author of the blockbuster Pulitzer Prize winner, “Guns, Germs, and Steel”) focused on evolution and change, which got me thinking. Although there’s always been change, it now proceeds at such a rapid pace.

Or does it?

It’s 2016, but Kozol still must talk of apartheid in today’s educational system. A Boston bigot had lots of support back in the day.

That day has returned, or perhaps, never entirely disappeared.

Bigotry and divisiveness seem worse these days, even as we make progress, such as with our fabulous first black president, who’s such a decent, smart man.  Women don’t yet receive equal pay, but I’ll bet our next president is a woman.

The dissolution of the middle class doesn’t help. The March 14 New York Times editorial notes:

“Mr. Trump’s calls to violence are the sickest part of the con that is his presidential campaign. Yes, some people who attend his rallies are bigots; others are simply upset with a nation, or a life, that’s dealt them a bad hand.”

And me, I take this educational and political turmoil to heart, but not as much as when I was young. Age brings not resignation, but a more mellow heart, which brings me to the most tender reminder of my past at this year’s book festival.

For me, the highlight was meeting up with Avi, author of “The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle” and “Nothing But the Truth” (probably my favorite of his 75 books). He recommended “Catch you Later, Traitor” about McCarthyism, which I bought.

Avi visited my OZ bookstore in Maine around 25 years ago. I can recall sitting around a table on the Claremont Boat House deck, overlooking Southwest Harbor on a glorious summer day. I think Brook was there, and also Chris, one of the Ozettes (were you, Chris?).

He was quirky back then, and smart (he still is). We had a fascinating conversation all those years ago, sipping on gin and tonics.  I have no memory of what it was about.

On Sunday, Avi presented such a tender view of his writing life, including a slide show that included a radio play he wrote at age 5 or 6. He was so kind to a 12-year-old girl who asked a question about her writing. If you’re not already, he told all of us, “Become immersed in the book culture.” (People always ask writers about their “process,” but we’re all unique. I agree with Avi. Writers must first be voracious readers.)

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The still prolific author in his late 70s. He’ll keep writing. Like me, Avi’s much more mellow now. But his writing is as exciting as ever. He read the beginning of his next book aloud on his computer. Here’s what I heard: “In which I introduce myself and immediately plunge myself into a desperate situation…”

The past hasn’t left me, although I somehow feel braver and more ready for adventure than I did during my younger years. Thank you to books and their authors!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in For Love of History, politics, The inconvenient truth about education, Tucson Festival of Books/good books, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Calm the f***k down. But I could be wrong.

Posted on February 25, 2016 by sheilawill

Here’s my 2016 presidential election theory: The screamers are coming out in droves for the nincompoop Donald Trump on the Republican side. On election day, those angry, hateful, uneducated voters (as the dumpster, uh, trumpster, himself said) will comprise a small percentage of the overall electorate.

A Democratic president will be inaugurated on Jan. 20, 2017.

My presidential election theory was the same in 2008 and 2012. So many of my like-minded friends were worried that Obama wouldn’t win. I tried to explain that very few voters participate in state primaries and caucuses.

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Although U.S. voter turnout isn’t great in presidential elections either, millions — compared to thousands in primaries and caucuses — will vote for president (62.3 percent of eligible voters came out in 2008; 57.5 percent in 2012).

Let’s hope that quiet Americans, people who don’t care about politics, are too busy raising kids, working at two jobs, or are just too busy with life, will not cast their ballot for a racist, hateful, mean-spirited buffoon like Donald Trump. Period.

On the other hand, Rachel Maddow is worried, and she’s not just a TV talking head, she’s a real political scientist. It’s all about voter turnout.

Bernie Sanders supporters need to worry about unspectacularly high voter turnouts in the first few primaries. That’s what Bernie is banking on, getting out the vote, which hasn’t happened — except for the nasty Trump voters.

If Trump ever became president, would Maine be far enough on the fringe to get away from it all (first get rid of that awful Gov. LePage!)? Probably not.

So repeat after me…a smart, decent, caring, Democratic president will be inaugurated on Jan. 20, 2017. Our futures depend on it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Welcome 2016!

Posted on January 2, 2016 by sheilawill
New Year's Eve at home, drinking prosecco from lovely glasses brought from Vienna for my 60th birthday.

New Year’s Eve at home, drinking prosecco from lovely glasses brought from Vienna for my 60th birthday.

I’ve decided it’s the Year of Sheila (although I’ve heard it’s the Year of the Monkey).

There’s the excitement of planning my great adventure to Kyrgyzstan in May for a visit with Ethan and Steph. Where will I disembark on my way back east, before heading to my Maine home with Dan for the month of July? The west coast of Turkey? Finally learn Greek mythology with a UA professor friend who’s leading a fabulous tour http://wingedariela.com/? Meet my oldest friend Charlotte for a weekend in Morocco or Paris? Who knows?

Here’s what I’ve decided so far: It’s my year to talk less and meditate more (looking forward to training as a library meditation leader. Pretty cool, huh?).

And, it’s my year to be fearless. I turn 70 on June 11, 2016. Why not (still waiting to turn 80 to eat as much chocolate as I please)?

Wonderland down Seawall Road a bit from my island home

Wonderland, down Seawall Road a short distance from my island home

One of my greatest pleasures in life: It’s always my time to be outdoors. I’m lucky to live in the Tucson desert and return to my Southwest Harbor home every summer. Surely, they’re two of the most beautiful places in the world, but I still crave to see more of the planet.

So dear friends, what are your personal plans, hopes, and dreams for 2016? Rent my house in Southwest Harbor this August? Join me somewhere in the Mediterranean region of the planet in late May? Join me in a fearless new year?!? Let’s tawk. Meanwhile, here’s to a happy, healthy, exciting, and I hope more peaceful, compassionate 2016 for us all!

Beautiful Catalina State Park

Beautiful Catalina State Park

On the street where we live...

On the street where we live…

Posted in Baby Boomers, Bopping Around Tucson, Fight wimpiness, Mount Desert Island/Maine, Nature Girl | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Snippets of Hiking

Posted on December 14, 2015 by sheilawill
Sunday hike on Douglas Spring trail

Sunday hike on Douglas Spring trail

I was on my Sunday afternoon hike, heading up the Douglas Spring trail in Tucson’s Rincon Mountains. You know, I start humming after being in nature for a few minutes.

Two fleet-footed boys of 7 or 8 appear behind me.

One of the so darn-cute little guys asks the other: “Aren’t you sad cause his sister died when she got bit on the arm by the zombie? Wasn’t that sad?”

Their moms are huffing and puffing up the trail. My motherly heart cozies up to all four.  I like that they’re in this together. I hum some more.

A few miles later, I’m heading back down the trail to my car. Almost there, I’m thinking about going home to make a breakfast frittata. I come upon an odd sight.

A young blonde woman, maybe in her 20s, lying face down in the desert a little way off the path.

A man pacing on the path (her father, husband, brother, friend?) begging, “Won’t you let me help you? I want to help.”

Quiet.

My motherly self gloms on for a second, Can I help?

Not my business, I’ve learned to answer.

Back at my car, the man has also returned to his car, across the road from mine.

“Maybe she’ll come back to your house,” he says. “She’s so irrational. I’ll go back and try again.” I want to hear more of his phone conversation but I can’t.

Meanwhile, I walk to the end of the road to snap photos. When I get back to my car there she is, the blonde. Seated in a yoga position, reading a book on the hood of the man’s white car (wearing dark sunglasses, of course).

He had gone to find her. How did they not cross paths coming back down the trail? There’s a short story here. But I’m not the one to write it. Or am I?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Bopping Around Tucson, Fight wimpiness, Journalism/Writing, Nature Girl | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments