It Didn't Have to Go That Far, However . . .

This is not an easy subject. A young man, already wounded, is shot multiple times by a police officer. People all over the country are inflamed. They assemble to protest. Police overreact. Pictures of the 60s – police with dogs – are compared with those of today.

It is difficult to remain objective when things like this happen, especially if one has experienced first-hand unjust treatment merely because of the color of one's skin. When skin tone matters, all of the intelligence, education, credentials, licenses, skills and abilities matter little, if at all. I am a witness. And if one is to look beyond skin tone, there are other ugly truths one must face, even in the escalated altercation that ended in the slaughter of a young black man. Objectivity, however, is necessary so as not to get caught up in the ugly emotions that drive these horrific incidents.

Ugly truth: The police officer told Mr. Brown and his friend to get out of the street and take the sidewalk. Rather than follow this simple, yet, as it has been reported, nastily spewed instruction, the young men told the officer they were almost at their destination.

 

Unanswered question: Why couldn't they just get out of the street?

 

Ugly question: Did this provoke the policy offer? Most likely, it did.

THE question: Is the police officer justified in shooting Mr. Brown multiple times after he had surrendered himself, already shot twice? Absolutely not!

Mr. Brown was murdered. Unjustifiably murdered. I cannot help but think, however, that Mr. Brown would be alive had he withheld an explanation as to why he would not follow the officer's instruction, taken the sidewalk (a pedestrian path), rather stayed in the street (a vehicular thoroughfare).

As Kelli Kox has instructed her sons: "When the police come, this is what you do. This is how you speak to them. Do not get into a power struggle. Listen to them. If they are trying to give you a ticket, get the ticket. Because it's not worth it. It's just not worth it."

Something must be done to stop these murders committed behind shields of authority. The responsibility is everyone’s, not just one side or the other. I always maintained that if George Zimmerman had stayed in his vehicle, Trayvon Martin would not have been killed that night. Mr. Zimmerman’s disobedience was the link to Mr. Martin’s murder. In this instance, Mr. Brown’s disobedience was the link to his own demise. If Michael Brown and his companion had taken the sidewalk, chances are Mr. Brown would still be alive.

Keeping The Strings Straight

Weighing in once again on a recent video snippet, taken out of context, to cast a negative light on the current POTUS:

1.   This country has been being ripped to pieces for decades. One can go back as far as one dares and what will be found over the last few decades are special interest groups out for their own narrow, self-centered purposes, basically getting more of whatever at the expense of others. And, no, I am not a communist. I have a healthy respect for capitalism but not the way a few people have lied, cheated and stolen their way into a financial gain at the expense of others, including the very lives of others. 

2.   Because of The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, derogatorily known as Obamacare, I was able to purchase health insurance after being denied four years ago. For the record, I had COBRA coverage which I used for quarterly checkups (a necessity when one takes measured doses of poison --- a/k/a prescription drugs --- to control high blood pressure). Still, as the COBRA was about to expire, the same company that insured me before refused my application. The plans available under the PPACA are –

a.   like other health insurance plans. They either have networks or preferred provider directories, and their networks can be regional or multi-state. Generally, HMOs are network driven, are less expensive, and tend to disallow non-emergency charges outside the network. I have an HMO and have had no trouble seeing my PCP or getting referrals for specialists and even chiropractic care. My health care providers are part of a large health care system that is among the top ranked in the country. 

b.   affordable for those who need help paying the premiums. If this country can subsidize corporations who supposedly cannot afford to fail, pay inflated charges for faulty defense equipment that cause our soldiers to come home maimed, crippled or in a sealed box, finance choice dictators in other countries for the gain of their natural resources, or whatever, what’s a few dollars to get and keep American’s healthy?

c.  optional. For those who i) can afford to pay a full premium; or ii) remain vehemently opposed to the audacious idea of most, if not all Americans having access to health care, or just think affordable health care is beneath them, they can pay the full rate, off-market plans that, by the way, include in their offerings PPOs and the dreaded HMOs. As a matter of full disclosure, they also include open access plans.  (Anyone living in Texas can contact me for those rates as well, and good for you if you can afford them.)

Bottom line:  people will see the glass half empty if they don’t like the person holding the pitcher. They will see through a glass darkly, to steal a Biblical phrase, if their eyes are clouded by negativity. Mr. Obama’s tenure reminds me of a temporary assignment I once had in another lifetime. I was looked over at the outset and the assignment was given to someone else. After the pitifully inept woman made a mess, I was called in to clean it up. When after three days I was still trying to undo the woman’s damage, which she was given four weeks to create, people started grumbling and questioning my competence. Unlike Mr. Obama, I exercised the option of telling them what they could do with their assignment.  Of course, I was younger and had only a small modicum of diplomacy.  I would like to think that 30 years later I would have been more eloquent (though I was not fowl) and poetic when telling them what to do with that assignment.

A suggestion to all:  regardless of the camp in which you dwell --- Democrat, Republican, Tea Party, Libertarian -- or even if your standing on the outside of them all like me, wondering what the heck is wrong with these people -- consider cleaning the filters of your mind's eyes.  When you buy into the most absurd representation, just because it casts the object of your disfavor in a negative light, you are allowing yourself to be used, misused and manipulated by others who are merely taking advantage of your negativity.  In short, you have become one of their puppets. 

Now, don't get your strings entangled -- you may fall and sustain injuries.  Then you'll have to seek medical care.  :)
  

The Greatest Shall Be . . .

This afternoon I attended the memorial service of a church member I barely knew.  A couple of months ago our pastor, Steve Wells, suggested to our "younger" members that they may want to attend some memorial services, not only as a show of support to the bereaved family, but also to learn more about the heritage of South Main through our members.  While I am not chronologically so young, I am, comparatively, a young member, just a few months into my 12th year as a South Mainer.

As I mentioned, I only knew the member in passing.  We always spoke, sometimes stopping for a brief conversation, when we met in hallways, and her sweet spirit was evidenced by her sweet smile.  Today I learned more of this woman and was reminded of a conversation I had with a young pastor over lunch just a couple of days ago.  We bantered about our concerns of how the concept of greatness has become distorted and barely recognizable as . . . greatness.  It seems that secularist 21st century “greats” are those who have achieved some modicum of fame and fortune.  Generally the fame stems from some single dimensional achievement.  It matters not that the lives of the so-called great ones are besmirched by willful, trashy living -- not saying that is true of all who have achieved a measure of fame and fortune, whether such fortune was parlayed into projects of redeeming value, or lost to prodical-type riotous living.

By today's standards, there are lots of great folks around (many times referred to as heroes).  And some of them do great things, using their fame to promote great causes.  Whether entertainers, athletes, or something else, for some inexplicable reason, people will flock to them as if they can be the source of their salvation.  Even worse, many live their lives vicariously through these folks, emulating their appearance, mode of dress (this is often not a good idea), and their behavior (even more often a terrible idea).  Then there are the great ones whose callings prescribe them to a life of service.   For some odd reason, rather than tending to their calling of service, many take on servants for themselves, screeners (so as to give attention to only ‘select’ sheep of their flock), bodyguards, armor bearers, and other absurdities.  Those so-called men and women of God are lost in their own worlds of self promotion or worse, allow their flocks to elevate them to some demi-god-like status.  This writer does not consider these people as great, perhaps just special as CNN’s Stephen A. Smith refers to them.

Unlike special people, greatness is not exclusive.  I have learned through the many South Main memorial services I have attended that there are lots of great people around.  Their greatness is evidenced by their service to others, whether singularly or collectively.  They give of themselves, their time, their skills and talents.  They are at work behind the scenes in so many ways, making provisions for others to be comforted in their illnesses and their grief, to receive hospitality in strange places they will call home while they access medical care, to be fed and housed and clothed, to be given another chance – a new beginning, to be given hope in the depths of poverty that are unknown in this country.

Yes, there are lots of greats around.  Their names are not Carmello or Dwayne or Tiger or Oprah or Phil or Peyton or Beyonce or JayZ or Will or Jada.  Their names are Virginia . . . H. H. . . . Roberta . . . Errol . . . Charles . . . Alberta . . .Julia . . . Mary Joe . . . Lyle . . . Carolyn . . . Ward . . . John.  I know, I know – you’re asking “Who are these people?”  That’s okay.  I ask the same thing when some contemporary celebrity’s name is called in conversation as if we just had tea.   I can only say I wish you had known them, my greats.  Some of them I knew well, some just a little.  And each has pricked me in a way that wants me to be more like the One Whose love was reflected in their lives.  No, they were not perfect, but His power was made perfect in their weakness.  It is comforting to know that the One Who called them home knows them even when we do not.

I submit to you that there are far more great people in the world than famous ones, and the two words are not properly used when used interchangeably.

But he that is greatest among you shall be your servant. And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted.

Matthew 23:11-12

He's Still Daddy

Even now, 46 years after his physical death in 1969, he is very much alive in me today.  I only knew him for 14 years, yet Lewis Hoxie is still Daddy, one who occupies my thoughts, shapes my opinions and attitudes, and whose examples of tenacity and faith fortify me with resolve in times of struggle. 

Daddy was born on Detering Street in the "West End."  That's what we called that area of Houston between Memorial Drive and Washington Avenue, just west of Downtown Houston.  His grandfather owned much of the land in that area in the late 1890s and early 1900s.  It is said that as they matured, Great Grandfather gave his children a little plot of land to call their own.  It was in the little house on my grandmothers lot that Daddy was born. 

I remember Daddy telling me that he worked for a chemical company, driving a truck until he was "let go."  Back then, one was only allowed to do that kind of work for a while because of the potential for exposure to dangerous chemicals; then one was simply "let go."  That was before my time.  For the time I had Daddy he rented a lot on Telephone Road, just inside I45 South, where he sold soils, sand and fertilizer.  I've told that story before and won't repeat it here. 

This being Fathers' Day, however, all of the posts and news snippets I've observed have caused me to express my appreciation for Daddy in this public forum.  I've not seen a picture of him in decades, and other than his last driver's license, a full image of Daddy in a suit and a really fine hat, and a snapshot of him sitting in his dump truck with the door open and my brother standing on the ground in front of him, I've never seen any other pictures of him.  Yet, he is as vivid in my mind's eye as I write this, as if he is sitting . . . right there . . . on the edge of my desk. 

Sometimes I cannot help but wonder at how powerful a father he was to have made an impression on me that has lasted more that four times the years I actually knew him in the flesh.  I guess that's what daddies are supposed to do with whatever time they have:  teach lessons that stand the test of time and make impressions that last far beyond their earthly years.   That's what my Daddy did. 

It would really be nice to have had Daddy longer, but it is better to have had him for a little while than someone else for decades, who would not have been Daddy to me the way Lewis Hoxie was, and still is.

Is This Life???

Is this life?

Lying still in bed

Never aware -- no way to know

That others care

No means to

Let go a giggle

Stifle a yawn

Shed a tear

Rise early by the dawn

See the sun shine

Spread warmth and cheer?

Is this life?

Day in and out

Always alone

With every thought

Up and down

Work all day

Home to hear

No one say

How did it go?

I hope it was great

But must have been busy

Since you're so late

Just couldn't wait

To have you home

Time for us

To be alone.

Is this life?

Through man-made power

Making hearts beat

If just another hour --

Or day week, month or year

With eyes, arms or ears

Too blind to see

Nor touch, nor hear

Nor can feel

A bird in a tree

A buzzing bee

Screaming sirens in the night

Noisy crickets out of sight

Trains on tracks

Keyboard-thumping computer hacks

A hug

What is life . . .without a hug?