Category: Choices we make

From NPR: A 40 year old photograph that stands as a counterpoint to Trayvon Martin’s murder

On By MaryIn Choices we make, growth into humanity, vision and perspectiveLeave a comment

I don’t often just cut and paste and repost here, but this one is an exception.

Last week the decision was announced in the George Zimmerman trial — he was found not guilty in the charges against him in the aftermath of his shooting teenaged Trayvon Martin in Florida.  I wanted to post something meaningful here, but words failed me. Most folks that I spoke with found the verdic abhorent and predictable.  My frequent response to such matters: ‘UGH’ seemed appropriate but inadequate.

then I found this story on NPR:

http://www.npr.org/blogs/codeswitch/2013/07/17/203016331/the-40-year-old-photo-that-gives-us-a-reason-to-smile?utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=20130721&utm_source=mostemailed

it seemed about right. so … read on, please …

This 1973 photo of five children playing in a Detroit suburb has gone viral on the Internet. The children were Rhonda Shelly, 3 (from left), Kathy Macool, 7, Lisa Shelly, 5, Chris Macool, 9, and Robert Shelly, 6.

In late July 1973, Joseph Crachiola was wandering the streets of Mount Clemens, Mich., a suburb of Detroit, with his camera. As a staff photographer for the Macomb Daily, he was expected to keep an eye out for good feature images — “those little slices of life that can stand on their own.”

The slice of life he caught that day was a picture of five young friends in a rain-washed alley in downtown Mount Clemens. And what distinguishes it are its subjects: three black children, two white ones, giggling in each others’ arms.

“It was just one of those evenings,” Crachiola remembers. “I saw these kids — they were just playing around. And I started shooting some pictures of them. At some point, they saw me and they all turned and looked at me and struck that pose that you see in the picture. It was totally spontaneous. I had nothing to do with the way they arranged themselves.”

This week, Crachiola, who now lives in New Orleans, posted the vintage photo on his Facebook page.

“For me, it still stands as one of my most meaningful pictures,” he wrote in his post. “It makes me wonder… At what point do we begin to mistrust one another? When do we begin to judge one another based on gender or race? I have always wondered what happened to these children. I wonder if they are still friends.”

After several days when the world seemed to be reduced to one big argument about race, the elegantly simple photo hit a nerve — in a good way.

After his Sunday post, Crachiola’s Facebook page blew up — as many as 100,000 page views. Six thousand “likes” and thousands of shares. The Macomb Daily reprinted the photo on its Web page and sent someone to the archives to help identify the children, who are now middle-aged.

It’s hard not to smile while looking at this picture. Crachiola liked it so much himself that he printed a large copy and has it hanging in his dining room. Former Michigan Rep. Don Riegle reportedly also liked it so much, he got a framed copy and hung it in his office.

Crachiola says that learning of the verdict in the George Zimmerman trial reminded him of the photo and made him think to post it.

He’s been gratified by the response. Between Facebook and the newspaper, he has solid leads on where the children are today. “Someone emailed me saying he works with one of the guys who was in the picture,” Crachiola says. “He actually works for the Macomb County Road Commission.” And just before we spoke, Crachiola saw someone had posted an even more intriguing note: “This,” wrote Darnesha Taylor Shelly, “is my husband and sister in laws.”

Looks like a reunion might be imminent

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. No good deed goes unpunished

On By MaryIn Choices we make, paradoxes, stories for social changeLeave a comment

Once upon a time in social work, psychology and even psychiatry there was a construct, a belief in the schizophrenogenic mother. It wasn’t that the devil made you do it, it was just that your mother simply made you crazy, very nearly literally she made you crazy.  The process was even elegantly illustrated by stories that went something like this:

            When Wanda was 4 or 5 year old she her her mother talking to Wanda’s Aunties. Her mother was sad because Wanda’ father never brought her flowers or little gifts. Wanda thought about this for a bit, and then she went out into the back yard and gathered a small hand full of wild flowers. Very pleased with herself, she took them into the house and gave them to her mother as a token of her affection and adoration for her mother. Her mother took one look at Wanda & the flowers, and cried out, “What is wrong with you! You are nothing but trouble to me. I just washed and ironed that dress and now you have mud all over it! And why did you bring those weeds full of dirt and bugs into the house! Get them out of here right now. Go wash your hands, put on clean clothes, and try to stay out of trouble for 10 minutes.” And Wanda went off and did as she was told, not quite understanding what had gone wrong, not quite understanding what she had done wrong.

            When Florence turned 16 her mother gave her two blouses for her birthday. Florence treasured and cherished them both. Her family did not have an abundance of extra money, so gifts where rare and cherished; clothes were more often hand me downs or homemade – so new clothes were particularly special. And these were blouses that Florence had been dreaming about for months as she gazed longingly at them during the family’s Sunday window shopping walks along Main Street. When she opened the box and took out the blouses, Florence’s eyes lit up and filled with tears of joy and gratitude. She dropped the blouses in the box and ran over to her mother to hug her. Florence then quickly gathered the blouses, when off to her room and put one of the blouses on to model it for her family and her mother. When Florence appeared, her mother looked at her, shook her head and chastised Florence saying: “What’s the matter with the other blouse? You didn’t like that one?”

 And so it went … the schizophrenogenic paradox. Now of course, modern mental health has moved far beyond the schizophrenogenic paradox and mother. We now resonate with nature/nurture etiology and explanations for various manifestations of craziness. But still, there is the veracity, the feeling truth of “Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.” Still there is the feeling truth of “no good deed goes unpunished.”

 And I have the feeling that all of this was of relatively recent vintage. Until the other day when I was reading widely, wildly and wantonly, and I came across the work of Ignacy Karsicki. Karsicki lived in Poland between 1735 and 1801. Here is his fable, “The Master and the Dog”

 The dog barked all the night, keeping the burglar away;

It got a beating for waking the master, next day.

That night it slept soundly and did the burglar no harm;

He burgled; the dog got caned for not raising alarm.

No good deed goes unpunished. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. It’s been around at least since the 1700’s, and I suspect a lot longer. 

 As you work for human rights and social justice, you might just want to keep these stories in mind. Know your mind. Know your heart. Have at least one dear trusted friend with whom you share your heart and soul and who will be your reality check. Remember always, love is the reason. And that is reason enough.

The Trolley Problem :To save five lives would you switch the trolley’s tracks? would you push someone off a bridge?

On By MaryIn Choices we make, ethicsLeave a comment

One fine summer day on Cape Cod two bright young philosophy students were walking along Paine’s Creek beach, overlooking the Cape Cod Bay.  The sun was bright, there were a few clouds in the sky, just enough to make it interesting, and the tide was out, so you could walk for miles on the sandbar. It was a perfect day. Pat turned to Jay as asked,   “If you were in San Francisco, and you saw a runaway trolley racing down the tracks toward five people who would surely be killed if it continues on its present course. You can save these five people by diverting the trolley onto a different set of tracks where one person will be in the path of the trolley. If you do this, that one person will be killed. Is it morally permissible to turn the trolley onto the new track, so that the lives of the five people will be saved, but the life of the one person will be sacrificed?”

 Jay continues to walk, watching the crabs burrow into the sand as they walk. Thinking for a bit, Jay says, “yes, I believe it would be alright to sacrifice one to save five.”

 Pat and Jay continue to walk. Pat then asks Jay, “Well, now, suppose there is a different trolley. This one is still headed for five people. There is no alternate track to divert this trolley on, but you are standing next to a very large man on a footbridge that bridges the track. The only way to save the five people is to push this man off the footbridge into the path of the trolley. Is it morally permissible to push the man onto the track in front of the trolley?

 Pat and Jay continue to walk along the beach as Jay thinks. Jay smiles and looks at Pat, “You would think so, wouldn’t you. In both cases it is one person to save five. But, morality is not math. I can be utilitarian if I am pulling a switch, but pushing someone engages my emotions on a whole other level. Pushing someone is much more personal. So, no, it seems not morally OK to push.”

 Jay then says, “Here’s one for you.  You are a relieve worker in Afghanistan, and you are helping to smuggle 48 women, children and babies out a prison where they had been held hostage for months. You have gotten information that they are all going to be executed within the next few days so it is imperative that you get them out as soon as possible. You plan the escape, and all of you are on the road, just a few more miles from freedom. It is night, you have just set up camp for the night, everyone is well hidden and you can hear soldiers on the road searching for you. You know they cannot see you so if everyone keeps quiet all will be all right, and then a baby begins to cry, to cry loudly, persistently and relentlessly. The only way to silence the baby is to cover its mouth, but if you do that the baby will be smothered to death. But, if you do not, you and the other 47 women and children you are helping to escape will be killed.  What would you do? Why?”

 So, my dear reader friends, what would you do?  Who gets justice here the five or the one? The infant or the 47? Whose human rights, whose dignity will you respect?

 If you need to find an answer watch the MASH season finale, rent the movie Sophie’s Choice, read Jodi Picoult’s The Storyteller, or google Joshua D. Greene. Sometimes there just isn’t an easy answer.

The Frog in a Milk-Pail

On By MaryIn Choices we make, laughterLeave a comment

A number of years back, when farms were common in the Garden State, there was a young frog who was just entering adolescence. The frog’s mother warned her child who thought she was a woman about venturing too far from the pond. But girls will be girls, and the adolescent set out willy-nilly to explore the lands around the pond. Soon enough our young frog found herself hopping around a farmyard. It was glorious! So many new things to see and examine and explore. She was in a frog frenzy!!

Being an adolescent and somewhat careless, and maybe a just a little too curious, she ended up falling into a pail half-filled with fresh milk.

As she swam about attempting to reach the top of the pail, she found that the sides of the pail were too high and steep to reach. Ugh. Only then did she remember the family stories about her cousin who had been boiled to his death in a pot of water when the temperature of the water had been very gradually increased so that Fred did not notice the changes.

Desperate, she tried to stretch her back legs to push off the bottom of the pail but found it too deep. But our frog was determined not to give up, and she continued to struggle. She knew her mother would kill her if her mother  found out the mess she had gotten herself into! She kicked and squirmed and kicked and squirmed, until at last, all her churning about in the milk eventually turned the milk into a big hunk of butter.

The butter was now solid enough for her to climb onto and get out of the pail!

Never Give Up! Nothing is impossible if you keep thinking, remembering and work hard enough. Keep on keepin’ on!

The carpenter and the mosquito

On By MaryIn Choices we make, Jataka Tales, laughterLeave a comment

Jataka Tales are an important part of Buddhist literature. These stories relate incidents from the Siddhartha Gautama’s incarnations before he became the enlightened one, the Buddha.  In the story of the mosquito and the carpenter, the not yet realized Buddha is walking along a path near the Ganges River just outside of Benares.  There, in the land of a large but struggling household a carpenter was in the yard overseeing the wood and planks he had gathered, planning out his next project.

The carpenter was a man of some age, his hair already grey and quite bald on the top with just a fringe of grey remaining. The man had three sons nearing adulthood. As he stood there thinking and planning, a mosquito settled on the top of his head on his scalp, and stung him with his stinger like a dart.

The man turned to his son, who was seated nearby and said, “my son, there is a mosquito stinging me on the head. Please drive it away.”

“Hold still, my dear father,” said the son. “I am sure one quick blow will free you from the mosquito.”

At this very moment, the not yet Buddha was just passing the household and paused to witness the interaction between father and son.

“Free me of this pest” the father urged.

“As you say, father,” his son promised. The son was behind the elder man, and raising his ax, intending to kill the mosquito, he rends his father’s head in two, and the elder man fell dead on the spot.

A spark of enlightenment danced through the heart of the Buddha to be as he bore witness to the interaction. “Better to have an enemy with sense, whose fear of men’s vengeance will deter from killing a man, than a sense lacking son.”

And is the tradition in Buddhism, the Buddha to be recited this gatha:

Sense-less friends are worse than foes with sense

Witness the son who slew the gnat

and rends his father’s skull and hat.

And with this realization the Buddha to be continued on his journey.

And the carpenter was buried on the bank of the Ganges by his family even as his senseless son grieved.

 Justice is fairness.

 Platitudes to match the story and make you laugh:

  • Choose your friends wisely so that they are capable of recognizing justice/fairness when it is staring them in the face.
  • Be careful what you wish for (ask for), you just might get it.
  • Match your medicine to your ill. Be sure that the cure is not worse than the cold.

OK, by now you should be on a bit of a roll … please add some more of your own in the comments?

24 hours to die, 24 hours to live

On By MaryIn Choices we make, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, growth into humanity, vision and perspectiveLeave a comment

Back at the cloister a new postulant has just entered the cloister. Sister Beatrix was bubbling over with joy and enthusiasm to begin her life as a Sister of Mary Magdalene. Her enthusiasm was infectious, although it was becoming a bit taxing to some of the more sedate sisters. Mother Magdalene was aware of the emerging tension when Sister Beatrix came in to meet with her for her formative spiritual guidance. Sister Beatrix had barely taken her seat when she began, “Reverend Mother, why does my mind wander around to forbidden places? Why am I so inclined to gossip when none of the other sisters do? Why do I feel such frustration and resentment for others instead of a sense of compassion for all sentient beings like Sister Visentia?”

Mother Magdalene smiled to herself, recognizing that she needed to take the situation in hand and help Sister Beatrix to slow down and to find her pace within the flow of the cloister. Mother Magdalene took a slow breath and thought she might take a bit of a risk with Beatrix. “Sister Beatrix, your questions are thoughtful, but, it seems to me that in 24 hours from now you will die.”

Sister Beatrix looked startled. She stood up and started to walk out of Mother Magdalene’s office.

Mother Magdalene asked, “Sister Beatrix, where are you going? You entered my office with such vitality and enthusiasm, and now you look so down hearted.”

Sister Beatrix replied, “But Reverend Mother, you just told me that I have but 24 hours to live. I must go and say my goodbyes to the other sisters before I die.”

“Ah, but there are 24 hours,” said Mother Magdalene, “sit, and we will talk a bit more.”

“Please Mother,” Sister Beatrix asked, “I must go and gather myself and say my goodbyes.”

Beatrix quickly left Mother Magdalene’s office and returned to her own room. Sister Bryda saw her crying, and softly knocked on the door. Beatrix wept as she told her what Reverend Mother had said. Then Beatrix asked to be left alone, and she wept into her pillow. Time quickly flew by with Beatrix weeping, pacing and weeping. Before she realized it, there were only 3 hours left. Death had not yet arrived, but Beatrix was all but dead as she lay on her bed waiting.

When there was only one hour was left, Mother Magdalene came to Sister Beatrix’s room and knocked on the door. She said, “Sister Beatrix, why are you lying on your bed with your eyes closed, crying. Death is still a whole hour away! An hour is 60 minutes – 3600 seconds – long. That is a lot of time. Get up, wash your face. Let us talk a bit.” 

Sister Beatrix sat up and said, “Mother, why should we talk now? Please may I just die peacefully?”

“Oh, Beatrix my child, there is still time and our talk will be concluded before your final time arrives.”

So, Beatrix pulled herself together, washed her face, and sat waiting for Mother Magdalene to speak.

Mother Magdalene asked Beatrix, “Now, my daughter, in the past 24 hours, have you gossiped about anyone?” 

“How could I gossip? I was only thinking about death?!” replied Sister Beatrix.

“In the past 24 hours, did your mind wander?  

“How could it, I could only think of my imminent death” said Sister Beatrix.

 “In the past 24 hours, where you frustrated with others?” 

“Oh Reverend Mother, not at all, I was only thinking about death.” 

Finally Mother Magdalene said, “Dear Beatrix, I really don’t know when anyone will die. I do know that we all have to die some time. But understanding the ultimate truth – that every living creature must die – can be very liberating and enlightening. All the questions you posed to me have been answered by yourself because of the awareness of death that you experienced during the past 24 hours. The difference between you and the other sisters is that you were aware of death for hours; the other sisters here have been practicing that awareness for I have been aware for years. Be patient with yourself. Cherish the moments, spend your hours thoughtfully and with compassionate awareness.” 

“You know, Mother Magdalene,” Sister Beatrix murmured thoughtfully, “this reminds me of one of my mother’s favorite quotes, I think she said it was from someone named Gwen Brooks. Mom would often say to us when we complained that something was impossible, she would say, ‘You are alive until you are dead. Ten minutes before you are dead, you are alive. You could save the world in ten minutes.’ I guess mom and Gwen Brooks knew something!”

“Indeed.” Mother Magdalene thought outloud, “indeed.”

Leonardo Da Vinci and The Story behind The Last Supper

On By MaryIn Choices we make, growth into humanity2 Comments

It seems I’m feeling a bit arty these days.  Here is a story, probably apocryphal, about Leonardo Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper.  

It is said that it took Da Vinci nearly 20 years to finish the painting because he was meticulous about the people he would use as models. From the beginning he struggled, because he could not find the right person to represent Jesus. Da Vinci wanted someone whose face shone with purity, nobility, compassion and strength, as well as strong physical beauty. He wanted someone who radiated virility.  Finally he found a young man with exactly these characteristics, and he was the first figure that Da Vinci painted into the picture. The he found and painted in the eleven apostles. He left Judas Iscariot for last since he could not find quite the right model.   For Judas, Da Vinci wanted a mature person whose face bore the marks of treason and avarice. For years the painting and Da Vinci waited. Then, he heard of a terrible criminal in the city jail. He went to see him, and the man countenance was exactly what Da Vinci wanted. So, the artist sought out the mayor as requested that the criminal be allowed to pose for him. At this point Da Vinci’s reputation was solidly established, and so the mayor gave his approval, and gave orders for two guards to take the man to Da Vinci’s studio. The man was to be chained and under the control of the guards at all times. Da Vinci thanked the mayor, and the entourage left for his studio.

As the criminal posed and Da Vinci painted, the man showed no emotion, but held himself quietly and dispassionately maintaining a defiant distance from Da Vinci and the guards. Finally, Da Vinci was satisfied with his work and the result. He showed the criminal the painting. When the man saw it, he stared, and then fell on his knees in tears.

Da Vinci was taken with the abrupt change in the man, and asked him what was going on. The man replied, “Master Da Vinci, do you not remember me?”

Da Vinci looked at him carefully, and replied, “I am sorry but I do not.”

The man continued to cry, and said, “May God forgive me for my life. I was the youth that you choose as your model for Jesus 19 years ago.”

The moral of this story is that no matter how much physical beauty you posses, it is the inner beauty and strength of character; it is the choices that you make that become etched in your face and your being. Your character is shaped by your choices and your action. That is what will ultimately show on your face and shine in your eyes.

If we will build a world where fairness and dignity are respected, we all need to learn to look deeply. We need to build our own characters with thoughtful, compassionate choices. We need to choose our friends … well, you get it, yes?

Hanging by a spider thread

On By MaryIn Choices we make, compassion, forgivenessLeave a comment

As with all good stories, once upon a time in a place very near to your heart, the mother of all wisdom was walking in her garden enjoying the flowers when she looked over the cliff and saw Melissa, one of her daughters struggling in the depths of hell. This young soul (we are all young souls to the great mother), this young soul had been an assassin, an arsonist, a burglar and generally an all around criminal. A lifetime of lawless actions put her in hell, where she was in the company of others much like her.  

The mother of all wisdom looked deeply into Melissa’s life and saw a moment where the woman had come upon a spider. She had raised her foot to stomp on the spider, but then she had remembered a story one of her teachers told in class about how the Native Americans honored spider woman as one of the world’s creators. At that one moment, Melissa smiled to herself, and thought, “maybe this spider is a descendant of the first spider woman.” And so, the woman picked up the spider and moved it to a safer place.   

Seeing this one act of kindness, the mother of all wisdom took a spider thread and lowered it into the depths of hell with the intention of saving Melissa. 

Melissa saw the thread, reached for it, and found it strong enough to hold her weights. Using all of her strength she began to life herself from hell.  As she was making some progress, she looked down and saw hundreds of others behind her climbing up on the same spider thread.  Melissa looked back and yelled, “Get off! This is my thread.” And looked down and shook the thread to dislodge the others, the thread broke and Melissa fell back into hell.

This story also kind of reminds me of the story about fear, generosity and spoons with long handles. I guess a world of justice and respect will include forgiveness and second chances and openness to community, which by its nature requires forgiveness and second chances. People! community! it can be a pain to live with them, and you can’t live without them. … forgiveness and second chances. Somedays it really does seem that we are all just hangin by by a spiders thread!