Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 22 November 2021

[Sent 22 November 2021 to my wife and three daughters]

Greetings. I have been thinking about the ‘Thanksgiving’ holiday. This holiday is for me our society’s most important calendar pause. In the international community, I do not think ‘gratitude’ along with such linked traits as ‘modesty’ and ‘generosity’ define our society’s bearing or reputation. As members of/participants in this society, we must be found among those who are vigilant and radical in resisting the societal permission (expectation?) to be other than grateful. As I pause this week to concentrate on ‘giving thanks’, please know you crown my list of ‘most special life gifts’ for which I am preeminently grateful! Doug/Dad

Down theTrump Rabbit Hole - 7 July 2021

[Sent 7 July 2021 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good evening. I deeply appreciate our conversations today, recognizing my reaching the proverbial ‘three score and ten’ life marker. As this day approached, I have paused frequently to reflect in fresh ways on one answer to the question “What have these 70 years been about?” – i.e., a search for ‘a very healthy center’ (eine sehr gesunde Substance – a phrase from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s 24 July 1943 secret letter smuggled out of a Nazi prison).

To illustrate, I have inserted below the first section from the most recently revised draft of a Grand Rounds presentation on assessing patients’ spiritual wellbeing I was invited to deliver in August 2000 for the Obstetrics and Gynecology residents in the Phoenix area. The selection inserted below introduces how a search for ‘a very healthy center’ has merged/integrated my personal experience with my professional experience. The impetus for the 2000 Grand Rounds presentation came from my preparation for participating in the creation of an educational video being developed at Vanderbilt as a tool for in-servicing hospital staff re assessing patients’ spiritual needs (which Joint Commission had recently added as an accrediting standard).

To strengthen my attention, I have returned to a set of comments chosen from the writings of one of the abiding seminal/pivotal thinkers in my ‘search for a very healthy center’ – Simone Weil.

The afflicted have no need of anything else in this world except someone capable of paying attention to them. The capacity to pay attention to an afflicted person is something very rare, very difficult. Nearly all those who believe they have this capacity do not. Warmth, movements of the heart, and pity are not sufficient. The fullness of love for neighbor is simply the capacity to ask the question, ‘What is your agony?’ It is to know (recognize) that the afflicted exist, not as a unit in a collection, nor as an example of a social category labeled ‘the afflicted,’ but in all their humanity, exactly like us, who have been stamped and marked by an inimitable mark, by their affliction. For this reason, it is sufficient but also indispensable to know how to look upon them in a certain way. This look is first of all an attentive look, when the soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being that it is looking at, just as it is, in all its truth. It is only capable of this if it is capable of attention.  Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.

With unending love, Doug/Dad
_________________

[Selection from my essay -- Assessing a Patient’s Spiritual Well-being]

For several years, the senior physician – David McRay, MD -- at the Appalachia community health center where I worked (1997-2006 as a member of the executive leadership team) and I met weekly to review his most perplexing and burdening patient encounters. Consider this summary narrative of one such case:

It was a busy Wednesday afternoon. The patient – new to our health center -- was in her late-20s, had four children, and was now 32-weeks pregnant. The fetus’ fundal height was smaller than expected. She had received no prenatal care. A colleague asked David to do an ultrasound. The patient was sitting on the edge of the exam table when David and a nurse entered the room. David helped the patient into a supine position. She was covered with a sheet up to her blouse. The nurse turned down the light. As David began the exam, the patient said barely above a whisper, “I have a lot of scars.” David’s first thought – “surgery . . . perhaps a previous c-section”. Once he saw the scars, he thought – “accident . . . perhaps a burn”. He asked the patient, “Did you have a car accident or . . . ?” She interrupted and, as she starred at the wall, said quietly, “My mother set me on fire when I was three.” David had no response. It turned out the baby was fine. As we later reflected on the case, David explained to me, “Her life is so far removed from my range of experiences. I did not know how to respond. She will never be free of this childhood experience, these scars. If my mother had . . .” His voiced trailed off.

When the patient whispered “I have a lot of scars”, she was making an existential as well as a literal comment about her wellbeing. Simply put, she was saying, “My story is broken. Can you help me fix it.” (Howard Brody, MD/PhD, is my source for this ‘story’ way to frame a patient’s meaning.)

Patients hope that entering a hospital or a clinic will be no more than a quick pit stop or, at most, a repair shop delay in their day-to-day routines and life journeys. The circumstances that lead patients to seek medical attention are often benign and/or soon resolved. In these situations, assessing a patient from a spiritual perspective may remain (by patient choice and/or by caregivers’ choice) on the periphery. By ‘periphery’ I mean that caregivers remain attentive to subtle or incidental indications that, in addition to the patient’s immediate problem, there may be a deeper ‘wound’. Such indications put the caregivers in the tough position of deciding whether they have the time, emotional capacity, expertise, and resources to determine if indeed there is a deeper ‘wound’. The circumstances that lead patients to seek medical attention may in fact have to do with a deeper ‘wound’. In these situations, caregivers need a language and perspective re spiritually in order to attend to this deeper ‘wound’.

Defining ‘Spiritual/ity’

The root meaning for ‘distress’ has to do with pressure or strain. To be distressed, therefore, is to be tense, troubled, oppressed, threatened. ‘Spiritual distress’ has to do with the loss of peace, joy, hope, and resolve individuals experience (to varying degrees) when faced with unsettling life circumstances that threaten to overwhelm their core paradigm by/within which they live day-to-day.

I begin with the premise that all individuals are more than the insights made possible through various empirical analyses. In the health care sphere, this premise implies that patients are more than potential or actual illnesses and accidents; professionals, more than highly skilled scientists/technicians. To consider this ‘more’, a vocabulary and a manner of discourse -- in addition to scientific/clinical language -- are required. I have found that most (perhaps all) individuals have, with varying levels of sophistication, such vocabulary and manner of discourse. Such vocabulary and manner of discourse disclose, in the most elemental and inclusive way, each individual’s spirituality. An individual’s spirituality reaches, shapes, and sustains his/her integrity (i.e., wholeness, oneness, character).

The definition of ‘spirituality’ that has worked well over the years for me in opening discussions with health care professionals is: ‘Spirituality’ has to do with the sort of person a patient is, with the basis upon which patients’ lives have integrity and balance. Patients reveal their spiritual identity when they share their core ideas and life values and when they explain how they sustain these ideas and values. Fear, loneliness, and guilt as well as happiness, contentment, and wonder are windows into a patient’s spirituality.

The definition of and approach to spirituality used in a hospital, in a clinic, and by a medical team need to be inclusive of all the patients for whom care is being delivered. Not all patients are religious. Not all patients are affiliated with a particular religion. Not all patients are members of any one sub-division of one particular religion. And crucial non-religious aspects of every patient’s spirituality are missed when ‘being spiritual’ is viewed as interchangeable with or a subset of ‘being religious’. Concerning these missed windows into a patient’s spirituality, here are some examples:

• a morning/evening walk
• participation in community/civic organizations a refreshing hobby (e.g., photography or gardening or hiking or . . .)
• participation in volunteer community service activities
• reminders of life-changing experiences
• travel opportunities
• inspiring music
• the company of a pet
• a thought-provoking book
• a favorite art gallery or museum
• social pleasures (e.g., a glass of wine or a pleasant dinner or a theater outing or a sports event)
• a special friend

 

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 20 June 2021

[Sent 20 June 2021 to my wife and our three daughters]

Greetings. I find myself pausing frequently this weekend to consider my personal narrative in relation to this year’s overlapping celebrations of Father’s Day (now an international holiday that – along with Mother’s Day -- calls special attention to parental ties/loyalties) and of Juneteenth (now – with President Biden’s signing the Juneteenth National Independence Day Act into law this past Thursday -- a federal holiday that has been commemorated widely but selectively since 19 June 1865 when Union Army General Gordon Granger announced and began enforcing the freedom of slaves in Galveston, TX). My focus/core for parenting (and for all encounters however fleeting or enduring) was clarified/set forty years ago as I responded to the then recently published Parenting for Peace and Justice by James and Kathleen McGinnis. (Yes, I wore my peace symbol t-shirt yesterday and am wearing my ‘Literacy and Justice for All’ t-shirt today!)

I recommended to you a few months ago Andrew Ward’s The Slaves’ War: The Civil War in the Words of Former Slaves in which former slaves are given voice to guide readers chronologically through the war years and the years immediately after the war. I found this attempt to see from/through their experiences and observations to be illuminating, sobering, haunting, convicting. I fought off the instinct – common to the affluent/privileged -- to rush, to gloss over, to look away, to talk back. I am deeply disturbed that neither my formal education nor my family/community upbringing exposed me to the painful realities/perspectives the former slaves recall. Instead, ‘founding myths’ (see Ray Raphael’s Founding Myths: Stories That Hide Our Patriotic Past) that are deeply engrained/entrenched in our society’s official self-understanding block the way, offer reassuring distraction, create an easy conscience, spawn fearful reactions to accurate information.

You will remember our many discussions of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s December 1942 After Ten Years essay he wrote for his parents, his siblings (and their children), his closest friend Eberhard Bethge, and his fellow covert resisters embedded in the Abwehr who had all been courageously resisting -- covertly and/or overtly -- Hitler and the Nazis for a decade. By late 1942, Nazis resisters such as the Bonhoeffer family had reason to hope. Germany’s military losses on the Eastern/Russian Front had set in motion elaborate plans for stopping Hitler by arrest or assassination. Dietrich and many for whom he wrote these reflections were arrested and executed in the months ahead. Dietrich’s father read the After Ten Years essay to the assembled family on Christmas Day 1942. I have been privileged to have had the assistance of Renate Bethge – Eberhard’s wife and Dietrich’s favored niece by his older sister Ursala -- as I revised and finalized my translation of After Ten Years (including the fragment inserted below). Words/phrases in parentheses offer additional nuances, add implied ideas, or indicate alternative translations.

Dietrich’s ‘The View from Below’ description/assessment -- a fragment most likely written at the time he wrote the December 1942 essay – has been singularly pivotal for my life decisions and self-examination since I discovered the fragment in a 1974 graduate seminar reading assignment.

The View from Below

 It remains an experience of unparalleled (incomparable) value that we have learned to see for once the great events of world history from below – through the perspective of the barred (put out, cut out, blocked), the suspects, the badly treated, the powerless, the oppressed (restrained), the scoffed (derided, mocked), in short the perspective of those who suffer.  (It is) only in this time when neither bitterness nor envy (jealousy) has cauterized (corroded, gnawed away) the heart that we see with new eyes great and small, fortunate and unfortunate, strong and weak; that our view of greatness, humaneness, justice, and compassion has become clearer, more free, more incorruptible (not subject to bribes); indeed, (that we see) that personal suffering is a more suitable (qualified) key (code, cipher), a more fruitful principle, than is personal good fortune for exploring the world by observation and action.  It follows that this perspective from below will not be the partisan claim of those forever discontent, but that we are centered in all life’s dimensions by a higher contentment that is grounded properly beyond ‘from below’ and ‘from above’.  And so it is affirmed.

I have to date found no indication that learning to see from below was a previously established unparalleled or incomparable value, goal, or expectation for Dietrich, his family, or his fellow conspirators when they committed themselves to a resisting posture toward the Nazis. In fact, it seems to me that they at least in part began resisting the Nazis in an attempt to defend what they considered to be ‘cultured’. Learning to see from below was thus an unanticipated result to which Dietrich proposed by December 1942 to assign “unparalleled (incomparable) value”.

I imagine asking Dietrich to identify when along the 1933-42 continuum he became aware of this learning to see from below experience. Did all recipients of the essay agree with Dietrich’s unparalleled (incomparable) assessment of learning to see from below? How does seeing from below contrast with seeing from above? Are individuals born into from below circumstances as unaware of their view as are those born into from above circumstances? How far and how long into seeing from below before one cannot recover a seeing from above view? How far below should children see?

Not all eye opening experiences are life changing experiences that reconfigure our unparalleled (incomparable) values. I have inserted below the current draft of a spectrum I first created several decades ago as a tool for differentiating the differences – in some cases, very subtle differences – among the reactions/responses of the privileged who see from below. The spectrum is organized around several key terms or phrases we have discussed often as a family – e.g., ‘affluent’ (to flow to/toward), ‘respect’ (to look back/again), ‘radical’ (to the root), ‘genuinely present’ (with integrity).

The resolve to learn to see from below drew me to Barbara and shaped our parenting attempts when you – Erin, Kimberly, Morgan -- were children. We wanted you to always find us on the ‘+’ side of the spectrum. We are encouraged (i.e., infused with courage) as we observe you now as adults also tracking on the ‘+’ side of the spectrum!

Much love, Doug/Dad
____________________

But what does it mean to ‘learn to see from below’?

(-3)_____ (-2)_____ (-1)_____ (0)_____ (+1)_____ (+2)_____ (+3)

DISPOSITION -3: Those who demonstrate a complete lack of respect for deeply wounded sufferers by noticing them solely for the purpose of exploiting or eliminating them.

DISPOSITION -2: Those who demonstrate a complete lack of respect for deeply wounded sufferers by noticing them solely for the purpose of shunning/avoiding them.

DISPOSITION -1: Those who routinely disregard deeply wounded sufferers, but who are latently predisposed to shun/avoid them if significantly disturbed by them and who are not predisposed to object to their being exploited or eliminated.

DISPOSITION 0: Those who are not predisposed to shun/avoid deeply wounded sufferers, but who do not respect them deeply enough to resist their being exploited or eliminated, thereby forfeiting the opportunity ‘to see the great events of world history from below’.

DISPOSITION +1: Those who express a resolve to stand with deeply wounded sufferers and thereby ‘to see the great events of world history from below’, but who turn away rather than take the radical (i.e., ‘to the root’) actions necessary to learn ‘to see . . . from below’.

DISPOSITION +2: Those whose respect for deeply wounded sufferers leads them to take the radical (i.e., ‘to the root’) actions that result in the opportunity ‘to see the great events of world history from below’, knowing this experience will be life changing.

DISPOSITION +3: Those for whom the opportunity ‘to see the great events of world history’ from the perspective of deeply wounded sufferers is of such value (i.e., of ‘unparalleled value’) that they make professional and personal choices that sustain and maximize their efforts to ‘see . . . from below’ to life’s end.

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 26 April 2021

Sent 26 April 2021 to my wife and our three daughters]

Greetings. I trust you are well. As an answer to “What does Doug/Dad do?” -- I have inserted below a communication I sent the 200+ surgeons Ira Kodner (WashU emeritus colorectal surgeon) and I have gathered/nurtured over the past decade into a surgical ethics working group. They are all variously invested in advocating/educating for surgical ethics in surgery departments across the country. The communication I sent them yesterday is #44 in a series I began in May 2018, sharing with them ethics education tools and resources I have created during my career. 

Also, when the Derek Chauvin trial began, I began reading Andrew Ward’s The Slaves’ War: The Civil War in the Words of Former Slaves (2008). I found the attempt to see from/through their experiences and observations to be illuminating, sobering, haunting, convicting. I fought off the instinct to rush, to gloss over, to look away, to talk back. In his Author’s Note at the end, Ward repeated the insights careful (and courageous) readers will gather inductively as the slaves guide them chronologically through the war years and the years immediately after the war. The slaves gave me a painfully realistic context within which to place Derek Chauvin’s trial.

Doug
_______________

[Sent 25 April 2021 to our surgical ethics working group members]

Greetings from St. Louis and WashU. For my ‘Surgical Ethics Education Resources -- #44’ communication, I am sharing with you two versions of a PowerPoint slide (inserted below) I created for educational purposes when differentiating the ethical dimension of care in a comprehensive/multi-faceted pause – informal or formal, individual or as a team -- to reflect on a case/surgery. Five dimensions of care are identified, with each dimension requiring a distinctive professional language to answer a specific question. The five questions are intentionally worded to concentrate on the core accountability associated with each dimension of care.

 These two versions of the PowerPoint slide – one worded for ongoing cases, the other worded for retrospective review of cases -- draw attention to layers, complexities, and nuances too often missed/absent on rounds, in EMR notes, and/or during M&M conferences.

The use of the word ‘language’ points to the specialized vocabulary and syntax necessary for each of the five dimensions of care to be considered/discussed. Also, I use the word ‘spiritual’ in an existential sense that includes/respects those who self-identify as ‘not religious’ as well as those who self-identify as ‘religious’.

Physicians/surgeons, nurses, social workers, and allied clinical colleagues are necessarily most fluent with the clinical/scientific language. Those who staff risk management are most fluent with the legal/regulative dimension of care. Those responsible for operations and administrative supervision are most fluent with the economic/business dimension of care. Palliative care teams and chaplains are most fluent with the spiritual dimension of care.

For patient care to be authentically humane and just, all five dimensions of care need to blend, to weave together, to be evident, to be respected.

Doug

 

 

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 7 February 2021

[Sent 7 February 2021 to my wife and our three daughters

Good afternoon. I have a few suggestions for your mindfulness and self-examination during Black History Month. This annual celebration of black culture and individual achievement was introduced in 1970 at Kent State University and had spread across the US by 1976 when President Ford recognized Black History Month as part of the nation’s bi-centennial celebration.

One source I read each week during the year is the St. Louis American, a weekly newspaper published continuously since 1928 that reports local and national news through an African-American editorial lens. I was deeply moved by the obituary in this week’s edition for Dr. Lee Blount, Jr. (1932-2021). Dr. Blount was a St. Louis general surgeon with a 30-year career after finishing his Homer G. Phillips Hospital’s surgery residency. And he was a highly respected civil rights activist, a remarkable community builder, an advocate for young people’s exposure to the arts/humanities, and a sports enthusiast. I encourage you to read the obituary for Dr. Blount. For more details about Dr. Blount, click on the following link --

http://www.stlamerican.com/news/local_news/lee-blount-surgeon-athlete-dies-at-88/article_12250052-5c0a-11eb-8f4a-fb8928847d81.html

I invite you to join me in pausing this month to be very intentional in identifying a Dr. Blount in your community you would otherwise not have seen/appreciated. I anticipate that our doing so can stretch our attentiveness and respect in each month of the year. To this end, I have inserted below a meditation I wrote many years ago in an effort to I hold myself accountable.

Be well and safe. Boundless love.

Doug/Dad

DISTURBED FROM PEACEFUL SLUMBER

To whom/where do I turn now that my eyes and ears have opened to the abused, the displaced, the disabled, the destitute. I had no idea how many and how near are my sisters and brothers who scavenge garbage cans in search for food, who cannot (or need not) read the list of ingredients on food cans, who steal to survive, who wake each day to a violent ordeal. I had no idea how surely my closets, my refrigerator, my diet, my choices for work, my recreation, my morning shower, my education all settle any question about whether I am affluent. I had no idea how entangled my lifestyle is with an economy that carelessly consumes the earth’s resources, that encourages selfish fantasies, that lures impoverished kids with ads holding out impossible dreams, that offers me an easy conscience by pointing to charitable gifts and taxes.

Why had I not noticed the family resemblance with these sisters and brothers of mine? Was it embarrassment? haste? fear? economic prejudice? the ease with which I allegorized ‘rich’ and ‘poor’?

I am without excuse. Endless blows dull these sisters and brothers of mine. I have added to the wind that has blown out the light in their eyes. I have only now realized that the task is not to make them materially rich, yet another form of slavery. No, the task is to make them free -- free to dream, to hope, to risk, to rest, to love, to choose.

May my conscience be disturbed by the loss of dignity ‘getting rich’ and ‘staying rich’ imposes.

May my self avoid self-serving values and habits.

May my lifestyle maximize the diversity of individuals who feel welcome in my home.

May my possessions be rid of anything I value more than “one of the least of these”.

May my introspection allow dis-ease with my being materially affluent.

May my responses encourage a way of being together that humanizes rather than exploits.

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 18 January 2021

[Sent 18 January 2021 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good evening. I trust you are all well and safe. Mom and I have spent much of the day on this Martin Luther King, Jr. Day watching documentaries, comparing/contrasting our experiences with racism as we came of age in the 1960s South (Mom in Montgomery, AL; I in small town West KY), and resolving afresh to assign ultimate value to pursuing justice. It is simple enough to say “I am for justice”. It is much more complicated to be just. The primary barrier -- the sacrifices and the risks associated with following through on the resolve to be just. Consider an exercise I adapted from philosopher John Rawls’ ‘veil of ignorance’ to use as an ethics educational tool with physicians, nurses, and social workers as they clarify their priorities re access to and distribution of limited resources. 

 

 

First, visualize the range of possible life circumstances made vivid in the ring of photographs. Second, remember how fragile and unpredictable one’s life circumstances are. Third, imagine you do not know what your life circumstances (e.g., your age, ethnicity, health, work, education, financial resources, nationality) will be; imagine you are standing behind ‘a veil of ignorance’. Fourth, without knowing which life circumstances will be your lot, explain how you would propose limited resources should be accessed and distributed.

Martin Luther King, Jr. is best known for his 1963 ‘I have a dream’ speech. I have inserted below selections from two lesser known King speeches that have for decades been centering for me. May these selections be similarly centering for you.

Endless love, Doug/Dad

 [Closing to King’s 25 March 1965 address at the conclusion of the Selma to Montgomery March]

. . . . I have a message that I would like to leave with Alabama this evening. . . . We know that it was normalcy in Marion that led to the brutal murder of Jimmy Lee Jackson. It was normalcy in Birmingham that led to the murder on Sunday morning of four beautiful, unoffending, innocent girls. It was normalcy on Highway 80 that led state troopers to use tear gas and horses and billy clubs against unarmed human beings who were simply marching for justice. It was normalcy by a cafe in Selma, Alabama, that led to the brutal beating of Reverend James Reeb. It is normalcy all over our country that leaves the Negro perishing on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of vast ocean of material prosperity. It is normalcy all over Alabama that prevents the Negro from becoming a registered voter.

No, we will not allow Alabama to return to normalcy. The only normalcy that we will settle for is the normalcy that recognizes the dignity and worth of all of God’s children. The only normalcy that we will settle for is the normalcy that allows judgment to run down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream. The only normalcy that we will settle for is the normalcy of true peace, the normalcy of justice.

. . . . I must admit to you that there are still some difficult days ahead. We are still in for a season of suffering in many of the black belt counties of Alabama, many areas of Mississippi, many areas of Louisiana. I must admit to you that there are still jail cells waiting for us, and dark and difficult moments. . . . We must come to see that the end we seek is a society at peace with itself, a society that can live with its conscience. . . .

I know you are asking today, "How long will it take?" Somebody’s asking, "How long will prejudice blind the visions of men, darken their understanding, and drive bright-eyed wisdom from her sacred throne?" Somebody’s asking, "When will wounded justice, lying prostrate on the streets of Selma and Birmingham and communities all over the South, be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men?" Somebody’s asking, "When will the radiant star of hope be plunged against the nocturnal bosom of this lonely night, plucked from weary souls with chains of fear and the manacles of death? How long will justice be crucified, and truth buried?" I come to say to you this afternoon, however difficult the moment, however frustrating the hour, it will not be long, because "truth crushed to earth will rise again." How long? Not long, . . .

http://okra.stanford.edu/media/audio/650325026.mp3

[Closing to a sermon King delivered 4 February 1968, two months before his assassination]

Every now and then, I guess we all think realistically about that day when we will be victimized with what is life's final common denominator—that something that we call death. We all think about it. And every now and then I think about my own death and I think about my own funeral. And I don't think of it in a morbid sense. And every now and then I ask myself, "What is it that I would want said?" And I leave the word to you this morning.

If any of you are around when I have to meet my day, I don’t want a long funeral. And if you get somebody to deliver the eulogy, tell them not to talk too long. And every now and then I wonder what I want them to say. Tell them not to mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize—that isn’t important. Tell them not to mention that I have three or four hundred other awards—that’s not important. Tell them not to mention where I went to school.

I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to give his life serving others.

I'd like for somebody to say that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to love somebody.

I want you to say that day that I tried to be right on the war question.

I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry.

I want you to be able to say that day that I did try in my life to clothe those who were naked.

I want you to say on that day that I did try in my life to visit those who were in prison.

I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.

Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice. Say that I was a drum major for peace. And all of the other shallow things will not matter. I won't have any money to leave behind. I won't have the fine and luxurious things of life to leave behind. But I just want to leave a committed life behind. And that's all I want to say.

http://okra.stanford.edu/media/audio/DrumMajorInstinct.mp3 

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 7 January 2021

[Sent 7 January 2021 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good morning on this very dark and grievous day. I trust you are well and safe, both in reference to the devastating coronavirus pandemic and now also in reference to the unparalleled political/societal meltdown yesterday in Washington, DC. Mitt Romney’s pointed speech in the Senate Chamber after Congress reconvened last night had an appropriately sober tone. By contrast, the shock and dissociation expressed by Mitch McConnell et al Republican officials seemed disingenuous, self-serving, misleading, and indefensibly late since they have been in unwavering lockstep with Trump from Day One four years ago. And Lindsey Graham’s lacing his “enough . . . count me out” comments with humorous asides distracted from the gravity of the moment and trivialized his complicity.

Trump called his supporters to the city. He stood before them yesterday morning, repeating yet again his false claims about the election. He reassured them “We will never concede”. He incited them to head to the Capitol to “take back the country”. 

Heavily armed they stormed the Capitol. Trump watched the assault on TV for hours. He addressed those who vandalized the Capitol as “very special”, telling them “We love you”. He delayed calling in the National Guard.

 We will never forget the surreal images for which Trump and his enablers are responsible. He should be arrested. They should resign.

 

 

 

 

 

 As Mom and I watched yesterday’s unfolding tragedy through the afternoon and evening, I recalled a photograph I made (inserted below) during one of my annual visits with Eberhard and Renate Bethge in their home near Bonn.

As we stood together in his book-lined home office, Eberhard pulled down a worn Bible to show me where his ‘friend in the singular’ (and Renate’s uncle) Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-45) had written ‘9.11.38’ in the margin after the destructive/violent Kristallnacht (Night of Broken Glass) and underlined these words – “They burned all the houses of God in the land” (Psa. 74:8).

‘6 January 2021’ is now in our mental margin, on our list of disillusioning national dates.

By late 1942 and after a decade of covert as well as overt opposition to Hitler and the Nazis, resistors such as the Bonhoeffer family had reason to hope. Germany’s military losses on the Eastern/Russian Front had set in motion elaborate plans for stopping Hitler by arrest or assassination. Bonhoeffer wrote a reflective essay for his immediate family and fellow conspirators titled After Ten Years. His father read the essay to the assembled family on Christmas Day 1942. Bonhoeffer closed the essay with this haunting question – ‘Are we still of any use?’ I find his painfully candid response to this question timely for us as we look/move past the Trump presidency. Here is my translation of his response –

We have become silent witnesses of evil actions. We have been drenched by many storms. We have learned the art of disguise (displacement, counterfeiting) and ambiguous speech. We have through experience become suspicious of people and remain often culpable (guilty, at fault) regarding truthfulness and free speech. We have been mellowed (made brittle, pliable) or perhaps even become cynical through intolerable (unbearable) conflicts. To be useful, what we need to be is unpretentious (without artificiality), modest, straightforward individuals – not geniuses, cynics, despisers of humanity, cunning (clever) tacticians. Will our strength to resist (stand against) being unnaturally shaped be strong enough and our genuineness (uprightness, sincerity, honesty) with ourselves remain relentless (unsparing) enough that we can find our way back again to simplicity and straightforwardness?

To be of some use in the days ahead, we must scrub ourselves clean. Only then might we be in a legitimate (dis)position to encourage others to scrub themselves clean.

Doug/Dad

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 22 December 2020

[Sent 22 December 2020 to my wife and three daughters]

Greetings. I am relieved to know you are all well. Year-ending holidays create an invitation to pause for careful introspection. The crushing coronavirus pandemic plus the unprecedented Trump et al political/social upheaval intensify and sharpen the task this year. I have inserted below adaptations I have made to four samples from a collection of reflections authored by the French writer Michel Quoist (1918-1997), one of the many who came of age in Germany and in France during the chaotic years between the two world wars whose struggle with/for integrity I have closely studied for more than forty years. The four samples are titled – ‘The Subway’, ‘I Spoke’, ‘Eyes’, and ‘The Sea’. My doctoral supervisor and still cherished friend Glenn Hinson introduced me to Michel Quoist’s Prayers (1st ed., 1954), an internationally recognized work that reflects Quoist’s experiences with existentially searching youth deeply scarred by the dozen Nazi years. I have returned to Quoist’s Prayers for decades as a guard against superficial self-examination. (You may have noticed several worn copies scattered through my personal library.) But first allow me to briefly explain the ‘adaptation’ reference. You see, Quoist was a Roman Catholic priest who was a chaplain to youth in Rouen as well as a sociologist. I have to transpose Quoist’s Prayers into a non-religious paradigm.

I made two radical (i.e., to the root) decisions in my 20s – (1) to assign the highest priority to unrestricted critical thinking in every area of inquiry and (2) to keep my existential eye/focus on being truly present with Jerrice as MS relentlessly ravaged her humanity. I became increasingly and keenly aware that remaining true to these two unparalleled resolutions was diminishing/eroding my place within the West Kentucky small town fundamentalist paradigm I inherited, evident in the ‘God’ language I could no longer use. I came to a third turning point in the mid-1980s as my collaboration with Dr. Korones (1924-2013) deepened into a special friendship grounded in a profound mutual respect. He was Jewish. He was not particularly religious. He was a physician of consummate integrity. I began then to differentiate the four descending dimensions of ‘community’ we as a family have discussed together on several occasions. My first (and unconditional) experience of ‘community’ is living in a way that initiates/gestures respect (i.e., to see, to look again) for others in daily encounters. My second experience of ‘community’ is huddling with those -- such as Dr. Korones and several others – I discover to be living similarly (without yet knowing why or how they do so). My third experience of ‘community’ is recognizing/sharing overlapping narratives in the huddle discussions of ‘how have you become this sort of person?’ and ‘what keeps you this sort of person?’ My fourth experience of ‘community’ is guest affiliation with organized/formal institutions that may provide a nurturing context for remaining true to the third, second, and first experiences of ‘community’ (for instance, religious institutions on the liberal margins such as the liberal Quaker gatherings I first experienced when studying at Oxford or political parties such as the Democratic Party with which I presently identify as a tactical choice linked to optimizing advocacy for civility, critical thinking, peace, fairness, international partnership, environmental caution.

Bottom line – These four samples from Michel Quoist’s Prayers – adapted for a non-religious paradigm -- sharpen my self-examination. I am grateful and like to think Quoist would understand. I commend them to you for consideration.

Doug/Dad
___________________

From ‘The Subway’

The last ones squeeze in. The door rolls shut. The subway rumbles off.
I can’t move; I am no longer an individual but a crowd that moves like jellied soup in its can.
A nameless and indifferent crowd. I am one with the crowd.
I see why it’s sometimes hard for me to rise higher.

This crowd is heavy – leaden soles on my feet – a crowd too large for my overburdened skiff.
Yet I have no right to overlook these people.
They are my community.
We move together toward the future in ‘the subway’.

From ‘I spoke’

I am afraid of speaking, for speaking is serious.
It’s serious to disturb others, to bring them out, to keep them on their doorsteps.
It’s serious to keep them waiting, with outstretched hands and longing hearts.
It’s serious to keep them seeking for light or some courage to live and act.

Suppose that I should send them away empty-handed.
I have often spoken so badly.
I have often spoken to no purpose.
I have often tarnished my lips with hollow words, false words, cowardly words.

May my words instead be as the sowing of seeds,
So that those who hear them may look to a fine harvest.

From ‘Eyes’

I am now about to close my eyes, for they have finished their work.
My vagrant glances have returned home, having strolled for a day in the market place.
Tomorrow, when I open my eyes to the clear morning, may they be ready to see.

May my eyes be clear and straightforward, giving others a hunger for purity.
May my look never be one of disappointment, disillusionment, despair.
May my look know how to admire, contemplate, adore.

May my eyes by firm and steady, never shutting to the afflictions of others.
May they also know how to soften in pity, being capable of tears.

May my gaze not soil the one it touches.
May my gaze not disturb, but may it bring peace.
May my gaze not sadden, but rather may it transmit joy.

From ‘The Sea’

One day I saw the sea attacking the rocks, somber and raging.
From afar the waves gain momentum.
High and proud they leap, jostling one another to be the first to strike.
When the white foam draws back, leaving the rock clear, they gather themselves to rush forward again.

On another day I saw the sea calm and serene.
The waves came from afar, creeping, not to draw attention.
They stretched at full length on the sand to touch the shore with the tips of their beautiful mossy fingers.
The sun gently caressed them, and they generously returned streams of light.

Which am I?

May I avoid useless attacks that tire and wound without achieving results.
May I avoid angry outbursts that draw attention but leave one uselessly weakened.
May I avoid wanting always to outstrip others, crushing those in my way.
May I avoid the sullen, subduing look.

May I live my days calmly and fully, as the sea slowly covers the whole shore.
May I be humble as she is, silently and gently spreading out unnoticed.
May I wait for others and match my pace with theirs.
May each of my retreats turn into an advance.

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 1 December 2020

[Sent 1 December 2020 to my wife and our three daughters]

Greetings. You may have seen a news highlight that on this day 65 years ago the 42 year-old Rosa Parks was arrested in Montgomery for refusing to give up her seat to a man for whom there was no seat in the bus’s front ten rows designated for ‘White’ riders. The driver told the four African-American riders in the first row of the ‘Colored’ section of seats to stand. Three obeyed. Rosa Parks -- weary from the day’s work as a seamstress at the Montgomery Fair department store. . . . but more so from decades of ‘Jim Crow’ humiliations – did not.  

As she later clarified, 

“I was not tired physically. No, the only tired I was, was tired of giving in”.

The bus driver was not surprised. For a dozen years, Rosa Parks had bristled against the demeaning segregation he enforced when she had to ride his bus to/from work. Two policemen took her to jail, igniting within hours the Montgomery Bus Boycott for which the 26 year-old Martin Luther King, Jr. was recruited to lead.

 The local NAACP – for which she and her husband were members, she being the secretary – had found the plaintiff needed to test segregation laws in court. Rosa Parks was honest, diligent, respected, reflective, resolved, dignified, courageous. She lost her job. She retained her integrity. She became “the mother of the Civil Rights Movement”.

 

You may have been too young to remember seeing Rosa Parks sitting quietly on the speakers’ platform for the 4 July 1991 opening of the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, a facility that merges with the Lorraine Motel where Dr. King was assassinated. Mom and I decided to take you with us to the ceremony. We were among the very few Caucasian attendees in the large emotional crowd. The ceremony closed with singing “We shall overcome”. When we were all instructed to cross our arms and hold hands, I vividly recall turning to the seasoned African American lady to my left. We did not know each other. Our eyes met. Our hands squeezed together. We paused. Then we began to sing with the crowd.

I suspect this lady is still singing if she is with us. I remind myself each day to keep singing – at times with anticipation . . . at other times wearily . . . at other times anxiously – but singing nonetheless “We shall overcome” poverty, prejudice, exploitation, ignorance, selfishness, cruelty, sloth, hate, indifference and instead become communities striving sacrificially for everyone residing among us to begin life with hope, live life with fervor, and end life with dignity.

Be safe. And keep singing!

Doug/Dad

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 17 November 2020

[Sent 17 November 2020 to my wife and our three daughters]

Greetings. During the five years since Trump announced on 16 June 2015 his candidacy, has there been a single day when it has not been apropos to recall the Danish author Hans Christian Andersen’s 1837 folktale The Emperor’s New Clothes? The vanity . . . the excess . . . the fawning . . . the revenge . . . the deceit . . . the pretense . . . the ineptitude . . . the fraud . . . the intimidation . . . the terror . . . – so utterly embarrassing and dangerous.

Even those who have never read the parable claim familiarity with The Emperor’s New Clothes. To experience afresh the story’s full force and meaning, I have read and reflected on the story several times over the past five years. I suggest you do so again if you have not recalled the story recently. As we come to the end of the Trump administration (but not the end of ‘Trumpism’), I am focusing on the ending to The Emperor’s New Clothes (inserted below, translated by Jean Hersholt) -- 

The Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him, one garment after another. They took him around the waist and seemed to be fastening something -- that was his train -- as the Emperor turned round and round before the looking glass.

 "How well Your Majesty's new clothes look. Aren't they becoming!" He heard on all sides, "That pattern, so perfect! Those colors, so suitable! It is a magnificent outfit." 

Then the minister of public processions announced: "Your Majesty's canopy is waiting outside."

 "Well, I'm supposed to be ready," the Emperor said, and turned again for one last look in the mirror. "It is a remarkable fit, isn't it?" He seemed to regard his costume with the greatest interest. 

The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn't dare admit they had nothing to hold. 

So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the streets and the windows said, "Oh, how fine are the Emperor's new clothes! Don't they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!" Nobody would confess that he couldn't see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success. 

"But he hasn't got anything on," a little child said. 

"Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?" said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, "He hasn't anything on. A child says he hasn't anything on." 

"But he hasn't got anything on!" the whole town cried out at last. The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, "This procession has got to go on." So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn't there at all. 

 

Hans Christian Andersen leaves the reader/hearer to wonder/imagine what lies beyond this delusional procession. And so are we two weeks into Trump’s delusional procession.

Not ‘the whole town’ but still millions today are hoarse from repeating over and over the little child’s self-evident truth – “But he hasn’t got anything on”. No matter. Trump – perhaps with the Emperor’s shiver -- continues to ‘walk more proudly than ever’ and his shameless enablers continue to ‘hold high the train'. We will reach 20 January 2020. But what further damage and harm will be done between now and then?

 Doug/Dad

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 9 November 2020

[Sent 9 November 2020 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good morning. And I use the salutation ‘good’ with added nuance/intensity, given the Biden/Harris victory announced over the weekend. Mom and I became emotional watching their speeches Saturday night. The rapid expressions of congratulations from international leaders suggest an encouraging readiness to move past their bruising/disillusioning experience with the US during the Trump years. The failure for other than already marginalized/exiled Republican Party representatives to do so is disappointing but not surprising.

We are certainly sharing in the widespread celebration (and relief!) evident across the country. Sadly but necessarily, we must also candidly assess the implications associated with 70+ million (47+%) voting for Trump even after a four-year avalanche of indecency, crudity, dishonesty, ignorance, recklessness, degradation, brutality, injustice. And we must not overlook the evidence that elections -- federal, state, and local -- below the presidential elections widely moved to the right (some -- such as Iowa according to a friend who lives there -- lurching very far to the right). My sense is that most among the 70+ million (47+%) Trump voters hardly ever (or never) consult public broadcasting news outlets, major network (i.e., ABC, NBC, CBS) news outlets, major city newspapers, international new outlets, or even late-night TV comedian commentaries.

The metaphor that penetrates most deeply into the present for me is to view the Biden/Harris election as someone grabbing the emergency break in an out-of-control car. The point -- the US voting population had sufficient alarm and courage to come to a screeching/abrupt halt, but it is yet to be determined if there will be an enduring change of direction. I am cautiously hopeful that the Senate links/relationships both Biden and Harris have will result in some degree of ‘across the aisle’ collaborations on the surging pandemic, on severe economic inequities, on deeply embedded/systemic injustices, on shattered international alliances, and on environmental protection/repair strategies.

I am reminded of an ancient proverb I came across many years ago – “Be careful not to keep your nose from the grindstone for very long . . . it will begin to heal!” So let’s virtually raise a glass together joyfully toasting the Biden/Harris victory and then return to the places in our lives where we can make a tangible/perceptible difference for peace and justice.

Doug/Dad

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 2 November 2020

[sent 2 November 2020 to my wife and our daughters]

Good morning. On the eve of Election Day 2020, I plan to devote my usual twenty or so minutes at the piano today playing pieces from Charlie Chaplin films. As you probably know, Chaplin contributed to and collaborated on much of the music that accompanied his films. I find so refreshing what has been described as the ‘Chaplinesque’ distinction of these compositions – e.g., the beauty, the mystery, the charm, the attention, the elegance, the gravity, the timing. Last week I finished Peter Ackroyd’s Charlie Chaplin: A Brief Life (2014). The association of Charlie Chaplin’s life experiences, personality, and international celebrity with Charles Dickens’ life experiences, personality, and international celebrity is convincing.

Re the closing scene in the 1936 Modern Times (the last of Chaplin’s silent films), Ackroyd explains that Chaplin “reverts to silence, as the Tramp and the gamine make their way upon the long and winding road towards the rising sun. The final words are ‘Buck up, never say die! We’ll get along’. It was also the last appearance of the ‘little fellow’. That is perhaps why in Modern Times Chaplin repeated so many familiar scenes from his previous films. It was a way of saying farewell. In this last walk into the distance, it is clear that Charlie will never have a home and will always be a wanderer. He had once been violent and lascivious; he then became gentler and more ingenious; at a slightly later date he grew into the figure of humankind; at the end he is a romantic, filled with pathos. In whatever incarnation, he was somewhere outside the world and a stranger.”

After Hitler invaded Austria in 1938, Chaplin began working on a film script in which he would play the part of a comic dictator. The biting and controversial political satire would be his first film with dialogue. The Great Dictator premiered in 1940. Chaplin plays both a Jewish barber living in a ghetto and the dictator of the fictional Tomainia. The film – which capitalizes on the appearance similarities between Chaplin and Hitler -- ends with the barber being mistaken for the dictator as the barber attempts to escape wearing a soldier’s uniform. He is ceremonially escorted to a platform where he is to speak to the army that has brutally invaded Osterlich, to a massive gathering of the conquered, and by radio to the world. All expect a bellicose and warmongering speech.

Instead, he delivers an initially somber but increasingly impassioned call to peace and a stunning example of a self effacing leader. Here is the ‘final speech’ (in full) --

[final speech in The Great Dictator]

I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be an emperor. That’s not my business. I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible -- Jew, Gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness -- not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world, there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men’s souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men -- cries out for universal brotherhood -- for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world -- millions of despairing men, women, and little children -- victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me, I say -- do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed -- the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish. Soldiers, don’t give yourselves to brutes -- men who despise you -- enslave you -- who regiment your lives -- tell you what to do -- what to think and what to feel! Who drill you -- diet you -- treat you like cattle -- use you as cannon fodder. Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men -- machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts! You don’t hate! Only the unloved hate -- the unloved and the unnatural! Soldiers! Don’t fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the 17th Chapter of St. Luke, it is written: “the Kingdom of God is within man” -- not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people have the power -- the power to create machines. The power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then -- in the name of democracy -- let us use that power -- let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world -- a decent world that will give men a chance to work -- that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfil that promise. They never will! Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people! Now let us fight to fulfil that promise! Let us fight to free the world -- to do away with national barriers -- to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness. Soldiers! in the name of democracy, let us all unite!

Here are links to (1) the final speech and (2) the film.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w8HdOHrc3OQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHZ46sQkzqU

If you update the wording into today’s social context the stirring vision in the final speech, I think you will be encouraged and perhaps even inspired. I am, each time I return.

Doug/Dad

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 27 October 2020

From: Brown, Doug
Sent: Tuesday, October 27, 2020 8:19 AM
To: Barbara; Erin; Kimberly; Morgan
Subject: a few thoughts on Amy Coney Barrett's Supreme Court appointment

Good morning. As you know, the Supreme Court has now been returned to nine justices. I find the appointment of Amy Coney Barrett to the Supreme Court troubling on many levels – e.g., the Senate majority’s utter lack of integrity during the confirmation sham, a third Supreme Court appointment by such a deeply flawed person/President who has scant understanding of or regard for the three branches of government, Barrett’s published views on subjects/decisions with profound implications for at-risk minorities, her participation in what appears to be a fundamentalist/pre-modern religious network, . . . .



But what holds my attention this morning is the painful symbolism of Clarence Thomas who replaced Thurgood Marshall on the Supreme Court swearing in Amy Coney Barrett who has now replaced Ruth Bader Ginsburg on the Supreme Court. No doubt Antonin Scalia (d. 2016) would have handled the task last night. With Thomas in his place, the image from the swearing in ceremony visualizes the social/political reversal both Thomas and Barrett represent for the Supreme Court that threatens so many vulnerable members of our society, that turns away from the social/political vision represented on the Supreme Court by Marshall and Ginsburg. Will the 2020 election results be sufficiently decisive for the other two branches of government to move this society toward decency, honesty, truth seeking, justice, modesty, respect, inclusion, and sacrifice within our borders and within the international community? 

Doug/Dad

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 22 October 2020

 [Sent 22 October 2020 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good morning.  So Election Day 2020 is just a few days ahead.  You may recall I began sending you e-mail messages the morning after Election Day 2016.  Since then, the relentless/shocking/disturbing/frightening consequences of that election have far exceeded the grim projections I anticipated in those initial reflections four years ago.  Whether responding to pivotal events, symbolic dates, or the need for self-examination pauses to refresh core values – that initial e-mail message has stretched into a series of e-mail messages I eventually described as Down the Trump Rabbit Hole.  I have taken the liberty to attach a copy of all of these messages collected into a single document.

Several weeks ago, I focused my elective reading on the post-Civil War Reconstruction era (1863-77), asking/fearing – Is the United States today at a similar point of truly revolutionary intentions being undermined/defeated by failure to sustain a critical mass sufficient to withstand/overcome deeply rooted resistance to the radical (i.e., to the root) change necessary to achieve an inclusive, compassionate, and respectful society?  I keep telling myself “No”, but this history haunts me.  I recommend Reconstruction: A Concise History (Guelzo), Reconstruction: Voices from America’s First Great Struggle for Racial Equality (Simpson, ed.), and The Day Freedom Died: The Colfax Massacre, the Supreme Court, and the Betrayal of Reconstruction (Lane). 

These two markers still stand in Colfax, LA, celebrating ‘the end of carpetbag misrule in the South’ and memorializing by name the three ‘heroes’ who were killed ‘fighting for white supremacy’.  This savage massacre 13 April 1873 collapsed efforts to reconstruct society as envisioned in the 13^th (1865), 14^th (1868), and 15^th (1870) constitutional amendments.  Federal prosecutors successfully tried many of the white mob, only to have the Supreme Court argue the prosecutors exceeded their authority and reverse the guilty verdicts in United States v. Cruikshank.  With Congress and federal courts sidelined, ‘reconstruction’ ironically U-turned into the recovery of as much as possible of pre-Civil War injustices, resulting in nearly a century of entrenched Jim Crow segregation.  The dehumanizing legacy endures.  The Rehnquist Supreme Court referenced Cruikshank in the 2000 United States v. Morrison decision that the 1994 Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) was unconstitutional.  And then there is the ‘white supremacy’ rallying energized by and inseparable from the Trump presidency.

So who are we today?  You may be familiar with a Johann Wolfgang von Goethe poem I discovered a few years ago while informing myself about the White Rose non-violent Nazi resistance group of university students most frequently remembered through the published narratives of University of Munich students Hans Scholl and his younger sister Sophie.  On 22 February 1943, Hans scratched the poem – long cherished by his family -- on the wall of his prison cell before being taken to his show trial and sent the same day to the Nazi guillotine.  Sophie and their friend Christoph Probst met the same fate that day.  Others followed in the days ahead.  Here is my best translation/interpretation effort re the Goethe poem --

Cowardly thoughts,
Nervous wavering,
Fainthearted trembling,
Anxious lamenting
Does not turn around sorrow,
Does not make you free.

Defy (stand firm against) all power (force),
Never yield (bend/bow),
Show yourself strong,
Summon the arms of the gods.

Be well. Be safe. Be encouraged. Much love!

Doug/Dad

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 19 September 2020

[Sent 19 September 2020 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good afternoon. I trust you are all well. Those who prioritize equality and justice as unparalleled/incomparable values and who sacrificially strain to achieve the most expansive/inclusive answer to the question “Who is my neighbor?” lost a senior leader last night with the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, To the end, she boldly embodied her admonition -- 

She became most widely recognized as a Supreme Court Justice for the past 27 years – witty, insightful, steady, penetrating, clear, . . . – in short, worthy of the utmost respect (in the etymological sense of looking back/again expecting more). As the daughter of Russian and Polish immigrants, she gave voice to/for the marginalized, the exploited, the disadvantaged, the diminished et al with remarkable consistency in every phase of her 87 years among us. She tirelessly championed women – their rights, their equality, their maturity, their contributions, their potential. I fully share her understanding of feminism. She traced her focus and her manner to her mother’s guidance, often attributing to her two centering messages -- 

A grateful admirer placed a candle last night near a hand-written copy of Ginsburg’s own words about how she hoped to be remembered.  As she said – “I would like to . . .

With dispositions ranging from reluctantly and with genuine appreciation for a fallen comrade to impatiently and with no more than a perfunctory glance toward/comment about the deceased public servant – DC politicians are predictably (and I suppose to a degree necessarily) already into the arguing/posturing about filling the empty SCOTUS seat. And the attention of the voting public with a pivotal election just weeks ahead will no doubt quickly shift toward their fight.

I intend to pause long enough to truly remember Justice Ginsburg. I encourage you to do so too. Why do we remember? How should we remember? What if we do not remember? -- these are critical questions for us to consider. Remembering well can refresh/enlarge/enrich our sense of self as we see our lives anew in the light of her life. Let us remember her with thanksgiving and contrition, with vulnerability and courage.

Doug/Dad

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 6 September 2020

 [Sent 6 September 2020 to my wife and our daughters]

Hi.  I thought you would be interested in an e-mail exchange I have had with Trina Paulus, the now 89-year-old author of the parable for young and old – Hope for the Flowers – that has been so pivotal in our family.  A few days ago, I forwarded to her with gratitude a variation of the e-mail message I sent you the day after the Democratic National Convention in which I first drew attention to young Brayden Harrington’s courageous two-minute speech and then retold the Hope for the Flowers story of the two caterpillars Yellow and Stripe.  Late last night, I received the very encouraging and refreshing e-mail response from Ms. Paulus inserted below (along with my response).  Doug/Dad

_______________

 Dear Douglas Brown, this is one of the nicest retellings I have seen.  So good to hear how the story has meant so much to your family and you.  One little piece of the story you might meditate on further.  Even in the midst of her desolation and search for purpose, Yellow was able to stop her search in order to notice a caterpillar that seemed to be in trouble and ask the great question that the knights seeking the holy grail did not stop to ask the Fisher King – “What ails thee”.  Yellow was rewarded by finding her grail, her purpose, and given the secret because she asked an old Caterpillar who seemed in trouble -- "Can I help?”  A world of sharing is what we need, not a vaccine.  Always Hope.  Trina

_________________

 [sent 6 September 2020 to Trina Paulus – author of Hope for the Flowers]

Ms. Paulus, good morning.  Receiving your very generous and encouraging e-mail message was such a refreshing way to close my day yesterday!  I very much appreciate your finding the time to read my e-mail message and to send such a thoughtful reply.  Thank you for the important reminder re Yellow’s noticing (the essence of ‘respect’) the troubled old caterpillar.  My wife Barbara and I met in the 1980s in a variation on the way Yellow and Stripe discovered each other.  She had withdrawn (climbed down?) at 32 years old from an ascending career with a global commercial real estate services firm, realizing that she did not want to reach the end of her career and see that she had only “made money for Cushman & Wakefield”.  I was still recovering from being with my first wife Jerrice through her 14-year unremitting battle with multiple sclerosis, the last three years before she died being especially devastating.  Barbara and I were both revisioning our futures on the other side of deep disillusionment (in the etymological sense of being freed from or relieved of illusions).  I introduced Barbara to Hope for the Flowers then.  Yellow and Stripe became regular guests in our home as we raised our three daughters.  Yes, “Always hope”.  Doug

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 29 August 2020

 [Sent 29 August 2020 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good evening.  Given that yesterday’s March on Washington 2020 aligned with the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom 28 August 1963, I chose to watch a moving documentary last night about the historic protest gathering of 250,000+ in DC from across the country fifty-seven years ago.  Today I have worked through various internet resources searching for a more granular understanding of that epic event, which (as the image below indicates) surrounded John Lewis’ and Martin Luther King’s gripping messages with a very carefully organized and choreographed program.

The day’s ‘march’ began mid-morning with the crowd drawn together by notable celebrities and various musicians at the Washington Monument.  The crowd then marched down the national mall to/ward the Lincoln Memorial.  I now realize that King’s ‘I have a dream’ speech was positioned to be the penultimate point for those present.  Before the Civil Rights Movement’s key leaders departed the stage to walk to the White House to meet with President Kennedy, the two principal organizers of the March on Washington – Bayard Rustin and A. Philip Randolph (honored on the cover of the 6 September 1963 issue of Life – see below) – called the crowd to the ultimate point.

 [6 September 1963 issue of Life]

Rustin very deliberately announced the eight demands the leaders would shortly present to the president.  The crowd shouted enthusiastic approval after each demand.

 [Rustin] We demand –

1. That we have effective civil rights legislation.
2. The withholding of federal funds from all programs in which discrimination exists.
3. That segregation be ended in every school district in the year 1963.
4. The enforcement of the 14^th Amendment, the reducing of congressional representation of states where citizens are disenfranchised.
5. An executive order banning all segregation in housing supported by federal funds.
6. That every person in this nation – black or white – be given training and work with dignity to defeat unemployment and automation.
7. That there be an increase in national minimum wage so that men may live in dignity.
8. Ultimately that all of the rights that are given to any citizen be given to black men and men of every minority group.

 Randolph then majestically read the march’s pledge to the energized crowd.

 [Randolph] “Will you stand?  The Pledge -- Standing before the Lincoln Memorial on the 28^th of August in the centennial year of Emancipation, I affirm my complete personal commitment to the struggle for jobs and freedom for Americans.  To fulfill that commitment, I pledge that I will not relax until victory is won.  I pledge that I will join and support all actions undertaken in good faith and in accord with the time-honored democratic tradition of non-violent protest, of peaceful assembly and petition and of redress through the courts and the legislative process.  I pledge to carry the message of the march to my friends and my neighbors back home and arouse them to an equal commitment and an equal effort.  I will march and I will write letters.  I will demonstrate and I will vote.  I will work to make sure that my voice and those of my brothers ring clear and determined from every corner of our land.  I pledge my heart and my mind and my body unequivocally and without regard to personal sacrifice to the achievement of social peace through social justice.  How do you pledge?”

 [Crowd Response] “I so pledge.”

 Here is a link to a recording of the statements first of Rustin and then of Randolph.  I encourage you to listen to these 12:57 minutes and imagine standing with that packed and exhausted crowd. 

 http://openvault.wgbh.org/catalog/A_27BB06E300874F279030125D1216C8B5#at_13.451_s 

 Would we that day have responded – “I so pledge”?  What would “I so pledge” have meant then?  What does “I so pledge” mean today?

 Doug/Dad

 

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 26 August, 2020

[sent 26 August 2020 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good morning. I am reading Nelson Mandela’s Conversations with Myself (selections from his letters, diaries, notes, letter drafts, etc.) and last night came across the entry I have inserted below. I found these observations based on his experience encouraging and thought you might find similar value. Much love! Doug/Dad
_______________

[Nelson Mandela from his unpublished autobiographical manuscript written in prison]

 “Those who are in the center of political struggle, who have to deal with practical and pressing problems, are afforded little time for reflection and no precedents to guide them. But in due course, and provided they are flexible and prepared to examine their work self critically, they will acquire the necessary experience and foresight that will enable them to avoid the ordinary pitfalls and pick out their way ahead amidst the throb of events.”

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 24 August 2020

 [Sent 24 August 2020 to my wife and our three daughters]

Good morning. Quick note to make sure you have seen this announcement re the Republican Party's executive committee voting unanimously not to have a party platform but instead to simply endorse Trump and his administration. This seems alarmingly near the Hitler oath. Here is the link. I still have chills from coming across the ‘no party platform’ GOP announcement this morning. Doug

 https://www.huffpost.com/entry/gop-party-platform-2020-trump_n_5f4353bac5b6305f32597ec4 

 

Down the Trump Rabbit Hole - 21 August 2020

[Sent 21 August 2020 to my wife and three daughters]

‘Decency’ . . . ‘respect’ . . . ‘honesty’ . . . ‘courage’ . . . ‘sacrifice’ . . . ‘empathy’ . . . ‘dignity’ . . . ‘humility’ . . . ‘justice’ . . . ‘light’ . . . ‘resilience’ . . . – one presenter after another during this week’s Democratic National Convention authentically personalized, embraced, and reinforced these and similar recurring themes. For me, the most penetrating/convicting moment in the convention came last night with 13-year-old Brayden Harrington’s genuine/unadorned two-minute description – as he struggled with poise to complete several words -- of his life-changing meeting with Joe Biden after a campaign event in Concord, NH. Brayden’s father explained to Biden – “We’re here because he stutters; he wanted to hear you speak”. Biden hugged Brayden and leaned close – “I know about bullies. You know about bullies – the kids who make fun. It’s going to change. I promise you.” In case you missed Brayden’s presentation last night, here is the link – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbDanLDO_rc   

As I watched the convention night after night, my thoughts frequently recalled the anchoring/pivotal place Trina Paulus’ 1972 tale about two caterpillars – Yellow and Stripe – in her Hope for the Flowers had in our many dinner table conversations together as a family about how to live life well. You remember the story. Stripe does what he sees all caterpillars doing. As soon as he is able, he crawls with mounting excitement to the nearest pillar of caterpillars. These pillars tower into the clouds in every direction as far as Stripe can see. He does not question his resolve to make it to the top of one of these pillars. The method? Climb or be climbed. The reason? No one knows or takes time to ask. Stripe quickly gets used to pushing and being pushed, to kicking and being kicked, to stepping on and being stepped on. Part way up his caterpillar pillar, he crawls over a yellow caterpillar. Their eyes meet. They begin to talk as they continue to climb. The more they talk, the less single-minded Stripe and Yellow become. Stripe wonders to himself, “How can I step on someone I’ve just talked to?” He avoids Yellow as much as possible as they climb, but one day she is blocking his only way up. “I guess it’s you or me” he says and steps squarely on her head. The way Yellow looks at him makes Stripe feel awful as he faces the disturbing question -- “Can getting to the top be worth that?” He crawls off Yellow and whispers, “I’m sorry”. They decide to crawl down the pillar together, a hard but necessary decision in the search for another way of being. Once on the ground, they live in the grass, content for a time to romp and grow together, happy not to be fighting everybody every moment. But they both long to be ‘up’ and the only way they know to be ‘up’ is to climb a pillar of caterpillars, the top of which remains clouded from view. They ponder but cannot decipher the meaning of three caterpillars who fall hard to the ground nearby, smashed and near death – i.e., that cycle after cycle of desperate/frightened caterpillars clutch their positions at the pillar top until eventually the upward thrust from the caterpillars nearing the pillar top shoves them off/over the side. Finally, the restless Stripe without Yellow begins climbing again. A desolate Yellow daily watches in vain for Stripe to return. Then pensive, she begins to experience the mysterious transformation into a butterfly. Coached by a grey-haired caterpillar ahead of her, she decides to take the risk for another way to be. Without Yellow, Stripe climbs ruthlessly over other caterpillars. As he nears the pillar top, the mystery of the pillar begins to clear. He freezes, seeing what always happens – “Millions of caterpillars climbing nowhere!” Then a brilliant yellow-winged creature circles the pillar. The eyes/look convince him it is Yellow. He begins climbing down again, whispering with little success to those he passes that “I’ve been up; there’s nothing there”, but celebrating with the few who listen that “We can fly!” At times uncertain with dimming hope as he descends, he clings to the idea that “there can be more to life”. Positioning himself beside two torn sacks hanging from a branch, he lets go of everything familiar/comfortable and is enveloped in darkness as Yellow waits.

On the book’s back cover, Trina Paulus explained that the story is “for everyone except those who have given up completely”. Are there still at this time enough Yellows and Stripes? enough who have not given up completely? enough who can imagine a better way? enough who have the courage to risk the familiar/comfortable for the possible? This election will answer these questions – perhaps irreversibly -- for our society. Regardless of the election’s outcome, I am confident you/we will remain among those who value giving hope for the flowers.

Doug/Dad