It fascinates me how little changes in the world. I realize all of you believe you're the answer, that none of us before you have ever seen the bad in our little world -- but we did.
My favorite author, and a towering intellect, Doris Lessing, wrote about all of the issues you think no one's noticed yet - and she was born in 1919. I challenge any of you to read all of her writings and maintain your beliefs. She rode the socialism/communism train almost from its inception, and came to see the emptiness of its promises (see The Sweetest Dream). She fought for rights for blacks growing up in what was then called Rhodesia (try the "Children of Violence" series), and was bitterly disappointed in its achievements, as much of Africa traded white dictatorship for black dictatorship, and nothing improved for anyone but the elected few (sound familiar?).
My favorite Lessing work, Canopus in Argos: Archives, posed a great question for all of us to consider on this front. The book ends with a huge meeting of youth from around the globe to put whites on trial -- all whites. Various groups of the youth charged whites with all of the historical crimes of the world. The youth had its advocate, and the whites had theirs. After a very long prosecution covering all of the sins of the world, the advocate for the defense rose to speak. He stipulated that all of the facts presented were not in dispute, and then asked a marvelous question: Given all that whites had done to others, why on earth did the other groups turn right around and behave in exactly the same way?
I posit to you that whoever does the sinning at a particular point in history, the sins are equivalent. The sin is still precisely the same, only the actors change. Perhaps all of us should spend more time considering this question, rather than tearing one another apart.
boxingfanmanic
Detroit
A Message to the Woke Generation on Race and Socialism
How about just bringing back manners?
Reflections on 6 January
Dear Voters
Much of what I see in America troubles me greatly. The point on my mind today is the erosion of the first amendment in the name of kindness, or of seditious speech, or any infringement on that most sacred of our rights.
As a girl, my father taught me an object lesson on this issue early on. The Klan was holding a rally in Dallas, where I grew up, and I told him that they shouldn't say those things, or even think them, because it was evil. His response was to tell his five-year-old that while I might not like what was being said, as an American, I had to be willing to defend to the death their right to say it, because freedom of speech was not guaranteed in all countries, and that it must be zealously guarded in order to maintain it.
The lesson stuck. I see a lot of people saying things I don't agree with, or don't like, or don't think are wise. I see the bully media, our political class, and bots on Twitter (may it go bankrupt) drumming up hatred and division between us, and we the sheeple going along with it and even joining the chorus. At the rate it's going it won't end well.
Thomas Jefferson believed we would need a revolution every 50 years in order to maintain our republic, and maybe we do -- that decision is well above my pay grade. But I think we can all take a note here and consider our rights -- and our obligations.
We have a right to free speech, and concomitantly an obligation to use it wisely. We can't control the braying chorus, but we can control ourselves.
Spare a Thought for Daddy
This is the third Father's Day without my dearest Daddy. My daddy really, really wanted kids. So much so that when it didn't happen for him and my mother, they adopted me. At the time, adoptions cost $2,000, and my father earned only $3,000 each year (ok, so I'm old lol). He saved it in two years. My mother didn't work at the time (the 60s), so it was all on him. A year later, they adopted my sister with the help of my mother's family.
As Daddy grew older and weaker, he was worried about dying and leaving my mother and sister and I to fend for ourselves. As he put it, "I lived for you girls." Which came as a surprise to no one. Whatever any of us needed, he was there. My mother died a year and a half later, and my sister sent me a photo of mother and daddy's wedding with the slogan, "Someone's happy tonight."
As men get more and more devalued in our society -- at least, according to the media and pop culture -- spare a thought for all of the daddies out there living for their families. Mine was an "old white man" -- quelle horreur! -- and the best person I ever knew. God bless every father out there today, and if you still have yours, give him an extra hug today for those of us whose are gone.
