Merry Christmas!

This has been my kind of Christmas.

I have some incredible friends who reach out to me during the holidays. Their invitations are heartfelt, genuine and more than appreciated. People (appropriately) don’t want me (or anyone) to be alone on a holiday.

I spent yesterday and part of today with some amazing hosts. We started at their home – prepping and cooking for a dinner that would be enjoyed at the husband’s childhood home. I gathered with him and his wife, his mother, son and daughter-in-law, daughter and her friend. 

We enjoyed Alaskan crab legs, caviar, salad, wine, and laughter. It was my first visit to the family homestead and it was an honor to tour through the stone home, hear its history and their family stories.  One of the delights was to hear that it was part of the Underground Railroad – very prevalent through that part of Southern Michigan.

After dinner, we returned to my friends’ house – I found my favored couch for sleep and (was told) I provided snores that could rival any sawmill. It was a great sleep!

Today, Christmas, I watched their gift exchange and co-piloted some cooking (cheese soup, crab Eggs Benedict – all adding to the lamb/pork/beef we prepped the day before. There is no lack of cooking/eating when we gather!

This year, I decorated my house with lights and have a Christmas tree – the first time in decades. There were some motivators (I hosted a dinner for 12 and have friend whose tree decorating skills are amazing) – but it was unusual that I had any seasonal decorations. 

Later this week I will visit my brother and his family, dine with more friends, and, thanks to the scheduled closure of the University of Michigan (my employer), have 4-5 days to catch up on the important chores of paying taxes, doing laundry, and taking down the holiday decor (though I’m told that the lights on the house would be a hit at Easter!).

This is probably one of the dullest posts I’ve offered (sorry!). My point? That friendship is critical and that embracing the season isn’t so scary. I might even buy some poinsettias next year!  

I wish a Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year to all my readers. Let’s all have an amazing 2019!

If you feel out of sorts during the holiday season (or any time), reach out to family and friends . . . and don't forget that there is a National Suicide Prevention Hotline:  1-800-273-8255.

Listen

In several admonitions, I've read that one should listen with the intent of understanding – rather than listen with the intent of replying (decrying). Is this possible anymore?

In the 1970s, I went with a friend to distribute political flyers. His father was deeply involved with local politics and had recruited us for an afternoon of stuffing flyers under the windshield wipers of cars parked at the Monroe County Fair. These flyers were in support of a candidate from the ___________ Party.

While we were scooting between rows of cars, an RV rolled into the parking lot. The side of the RV was painted asking John Q. Public to support the opposing candidate – obviously from the ___________ Party.

The opposing candidate asked my friend’s father if he had a minute to talk. They disappeared into the RV for about 20 minutes.

When he emerged – with a big smile and a hearty handshake from the candidate – he said, “Boys, our job has changed. Start taking those flyers off the cars and replace them with these. “These” were the RV candidate’s flyers.

I was an underclassman in high school at the time, but this left quite an impression. An impression so deep that I remain leery (hoping I’m not cynical) about the entire political machine. I witnessed an individual change loyalties in essentially the snap of a finger.

Incidentally, the RV candidate won the election and my friend’s father ascended to his Washington, DC staff. Probably a coincidence (oops, that was cynical, wasn’t it?).

I think quite of few “Mr. Smiths” go to Washington (if you don't know the allusion, watch Jimmy Stewart in this marvelous Frank Capra directed film Mr. Smith Goes To Washington).  I do, sadly, believe that the political culture changes good people. Suddenly, being in power unseats their soul.

What’s that old joke? How do you tell if a politician is lying? Their lips are moving.

I was so excited to vote when I turned 18 – and I remain committed to voting in every election during my lifetime. Every year, however, I become more and more sickened by the election cycle.

Oh, sure – the “other side” has done this and the “other side” is guilty of that. Well, that’s both sides – accept it.

There was a “60 Minutes” interview with a recently retired politician. In the interview, he was called out for lying on the Senate floor about the opposing party’s presidential candidate (who lost). This former Senator said, “Worked, didn’t it?”

Now, the political machine’s vitriol is infecting the general populous. Decades-long friends no longer speak because they are on opposite sides of the divide. There is an assumption that followers of certain candidates are awful human beings and are chided. Unless you agree with X or Y, you are subhuman.

This started with a lament about listening. Here’s a thought – sit down with someone whose views (and votes) do not match yours. Calmly listen to what he or she believes. Don’t counter. Don’t try to convert. Listen. Listen. Listen.  Then, ask them to listen. If he or she won’t - start over with another person.

We all love our country – in hundreds of different ways! Avoid the vitriol.

And, if you see me on the street – give me a hug and tell me not to be cynical! 

Ear image reported to be in the public domain and available HERE.

Flight 93

 
This past May, I had the honor of visiting the Flight 93 Memorial in Somerset County, Pennsylvania.

Seventeen years ago, passengers aboard this jet watched as hijackers took control, murdering crew members. The hijackers threatened the passengers, told them a bomb was on board, and (according to reports) locked themselves in the cockpit having dispatched the pilots.

Passengers began calling loved ones – and thus learning about the planes colliding with the Twin Towers in New York City and the Pentagon, just outside of Washington, D.C.

One of the calls ( Burnett Call Transcript ):

"Tom: We’re waiting until we’re over a rural area. We’re going to take back the airplane.
Deena: No! Sit down, be still, be quiet, and don’t draw attention to yourself!
Tom: Deena! If they’re going to crash this plane into the ground, we’re going to have do something!
Deena: What about the authorities?
Tom: We can’t wait for the authorities. I don’t know what they could do anyway.
It’s up to us. I think we can do it.
Deena: What do you want me to do?
Tom: Pray, Deena, just pray.

(after a long pause)

Deena: I love you.
Tom: Don’t worry, we’re going to do something..."

That was passenger Tom Burnett's last words with his wife Deena.

Shortly after that call, passengers stormed the cockpit and caused the plane to crash in a rural portion of Pennsylvania.

Driving to the memorial is truly a two-lane experience – about 90 minutes southwest of Pittsburgh, one finally finds directional signs that lead to a gated drive. Turning off the main road, I drove about 2.5 miles until I found the visitors’ center. The weather was gray, and chilling.

Walking up to the visitor’s center, I saw a National Park Service ranger by what looked like a diorama. Approaching, I stepped onto a black walkway – not in a style I’d seen before.

The ranger greeted me, and showed me that the diorama was a relief of the entire parkland. Then she emotionally punched me in the throat. “The black walkway is Flight 93’s flight path. If you walk up to the glass barrier (300 feet away) you’ll overlook a prairie and see the Memorial Plaza and the Wall of Names. Beyond there, you’ll see a boulder – the site of the impact.”

I walked to the glass barrier. I saw, in the distance, a white marble wall on the same vector as the path. At the end of view, a large boulder. Tears were in my eyes.

Within the visitors’ center, there are well-done displays, video, audio, timelines, maps, too much for my head to absorb. There was a striking exhibit – showing some recovered debris. The largest pieces were less than two inches across. According the National Park Service: “Flight 93 struck the ground at a 40 degree angle almost upside down, hitting right wing and nose first, at a speed of between 563-580 miles per hour. It was carrying approximately 7,000 gallons of Jet A fuel at impact” (https://www.nps.gov/flni/learn/historyculture/sources-and-detailed-information.htm).

I drove to the Memorial Plaza and met another Park Service Ranger. He offered guidance – I just wanted to wander alone. There is a long, low wall separating the visitor area from the prairie. Along the wall are small cutout shelves where people still leave memorials (medals, flowers, prayer cards, etc.). Also along the wall you learn that the boulder placed on the impact site is 17 tons and sandstone. For some odd reason, that was important to know.

At the marble wall, the names. Well, the names. Hope this isn’t too much of a downer essay – but I pray we never forget. Thanks





Previous musing:  Why today is special

Suicide

Celebrity suicide brings the topic to mind as a societal issue.  Knowing a person killing him or herself makes it agonizingly personal. 

Robin Williams, Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain elevated the issue significantly recently. I don’t diminish each of their agonies nor their lonesomeness that may have contributed to their decision. I’ve learned that often the decision is based on ending a pain – not necessarily ending a life. Gosh, there are so many factors – I mourn those choosing this option and wish I had a helpful preventative solution.

I’ve had a handful of people in my life (or the children of people in my life) making this decision. By the way, this has nothing to do with me – I’m trying to respectfully chronicle what I know and who I know. When you hear of these deaths, you don’t know what to say; what to do; even, what to think. I do mourn the losses.

I’ve also just read that suicide has increased 25% since 1990 – according to the National Institute of Mental Health, in 2016 suicide was the tenth leading cause of death in the U.S. resulting in about 45,000 deaths.

In 1987, the FDA approved Prozac and today estimates are that 13% of our population are on some form of antidepressant (https://psychnews.psychiatryonline.org/doi/full/10.1176appi.pn.2017.pp9b2). 

There are many resources for people who are facing challenges. The questions are: sufficient? effective? Are there roles for families and friends?

I have no answers and certainly am not a mental health professional. For what it is worth, I have experienced what “the dark night of the soul” feels like – and don’t wish it on anyone.

Maybe just be kind. Reach out to people who may be alone. Invite someone into friendship. We can’t find a simple cure, but simple acts may make a difference. 

God Bless.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:  Call 1-800-273-8255