The World at
She was a second Mother to me. Couldn’t cook worth a darn, something very unusual for her generation, but she was full of life and always a part of the important milestones.
Even if the birthday cakes were store bought.
She had a handful of quirks and did a few things that drove me crazy. For example, she would not talk to me about the Great Depression. It used to make me so mad. I wanted to know more than I was reading in my history books and here she was, having lived it.
Every time she gave me the same answer: “It was depressing.”
So not funny.
We also had one running argument. She thought the world was going to heck in a hand basket and I thought the world seemed worse as a result of the twenty-four hour news cycle.
The little country newspaper she grew up with mostly reported on local events. News stories from around the world and anything written in a language other than English wouldn’t have made the cut.
We’d cover the same ground as she proclaimed “Things like this didn’t used to go on” and I’d reply “You didn’t know they were going on, but they probably were.”
We never got much farther than that.
She’s passed on now, but this week I haven’t been able to get those conversations to be quiet.
Bombings in Beirut, France, and Nigeria; Student protests over race and inclusion; Young girls and women being harassed and assaulted on social media and in real life; where to begin?
Where to end?
I am an average citizen lucky enough to be from an extraordinary place. I go to work, visit with friends and family, have a hobby or two, geek out with alarming regularity, and generally enjoy an unremarkable life.
It works for me.
But the world is always at my fingertips. We live in an ever interconnected world and what happens “there” affects us “here”. It affects us everywhere.
Last week I was riding high. I want to find a way to give back to my amazing community.
This week I’m feeling overwhelmed.
It’s time for a little perspective.
So, last night I went out with some friends, after a stop at their barn. Both for medicinal purposes. Works every time. And, like the geek that I am, I have gone back to the lessons learned over a lifetime from people much smarter than me.
Do what I can where I am, starting with me. No pointing fingers at somebody else. It’s easy enough for me to cuss and get twisted up about things I have absolutely no control over.
Done plenty of that this week.
But it doesn’t really help.
As was so eloquently put by a British author “Continuing with your daily routine, living your life in the West, supporting freedom, liberty and democracy is battling Isis.” We could replace the name of one terrorist organization for any number of horrors. Same sentiment applies.
I’m not an important person. I don’t have clout. But I can live my life in a way that honors the traditions of Texas. I can’t change the world, but I can attempt to improve myself and treat the people in my neck of the woods with just a little bit more compassion.
I say all that like it’s a done deal. Like I won’t find myself cussing over my news feed tomorrow at the breakfast table. I’m sure it will ebb and flow.
I still laugh at the videos of people eating dirt. I’m not in any danger of becoming saintly.
Sanctimonious maybe, but not saintly.
But today I am celebrating my small victories. The little victory over my grief and rage. Dare I say, I’m even feeling pretty good about the odds for humanity?
Then, another article…
The Islamic Center of Pflugerville, Texas was vandalized. Why is there always someone trying to mess it up for the rest of us?
Jack Swanson, age 7, donated his whole piggy bank to help pay for repairs.
His whole piggy bank.
Oh man, something’s in my eye…
Written by L.H.
A cubicle denizen we keep in the way back, back, back of South Texas Tack in Brenham, Texas.
"As an ordinary British Muslim, here's what I plan to do to tackle Isis" Author: Shehab Khan http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/as-an-ordinary-british-muslim-heres-what-i-plan-to-do-to-tackle-isis-a6737486.html