Domestic Violence

   Can we have a little straight talk this morning about domestic violence and violence against women in general? Rob Porter, White House staff secretary, is under fire after some very credible accusations of violence against two of his ex-wives has come to light, complete with supporting photographs. How was anyone to know what went on in his past? General Kelly gave a statement brushing aside the complete accusation and Orrin Hatch blasted the nasty people and agencies that reported these obviously false accusations.

   And of course, Porter himself, was highly critical of the stories floating around. He didn’t completely deny it though. Then when the word went out that these charges were, at least in part, the reason Porter had not been able get a security clearance, there was some serious back pedaling. Even though there are a lot of people who were unable to get security clearances under this administration, I would have thought that those who are routinely handed classified and top-secret information would have warranted a second look at the reasons for this denial.  Thank God someone did look and yes, the FBI had questioned the ex-wives (they do that you know. They question just about everyone who has been close to the subject in his or her entire life, relatives, old girl friends and guy friends, previous work mates, class mates) You get the idea.

   This man would never have been able to serve under the Obama administration with proof of wife battering in his jacket. Nor would he have been able to serve under either of the Bushes or Cli…Oh who are we kidding. He might not have served under Obama, but any or all of the past administrations, might or might not have even registered the violence, IF it had even been reported.  The fact is that violence against women has just not been taken all that seriously until recently.

   The truth is we just might not have heard about it. If we did hear about it, we might have allowed ourselves to be lulled by his excuses or denials, because it would have been easier on us. Kelly moved from disavowal to “He deserved the benefit of the doubt” before reaching the more appropriate, shock and condemnation of Porter’s actions. I’m pretty sure that General Kelly has run into spousal abuse a few times in his military career. It is rampant in the military.

   The military has very strict rules regarding what one can and cannot do to/with a spouse. A commanding officer is required to take certain action when abuse is reported. When abuse is reported, not suspected and not even if it is general knowledge, but when it is reported. The thing is, reported abuse in the military can be career challenging, so it is often not reported to the commanding officer.

   You’ve heard about the Catholic priests, the Mormon elders and other conservative clergy who routinely tell the women who come to them for help in these cases, to go home. Divorce is not an option. Go home and try not to make him angry again, try to cope, don’t rock the boat, implying that if they are better wives, their husbands won’t be driven to beat them.

   We’ve been fighting this for decades and just in the past few years, have we been making a bit of headway. The current movement against sexual harassment is one of the outcomes of this on-going fight and for the first time, I think we have a chance of moving the line a bit. But we also have a challenge.

   We have a challenge because a man sits as the head of our country who has countless accusations of inappropriate behavior toward women, ranging from unwanted kisses all the way to forcible rape of a minor and including physical and emotional violence toward his wives. This seems to normalize the problem.

   We have a challenge because both Kelly and Hatch have a hard time believing that someone who hasn’t punched either of them has punched his bride. We have a challenge because these men and many more are lusting for the “good old days” when “women were sacred”, which translates to “women were controllable”. We have a challenge because many women still depend on the generosity of a man for their well being and the well being of their children. We still have challenges but we are closer to the equalityDo we need to put those challenges behind us. Our biggest challenge right now is to NOT start slipping backward, to not allow our hard-won victories to be lost. We need equal pay for equal work. We need healthcare and childcare, not above the needs of men, but equal to.

   We need a level playing field and I think we are close to having it. Don’t give up. Speak Up. Don’t stand for bad treatment. Stand UP. Be counted. Be the resistance to the unfairness.

We Are One Spirit

Once again, I awoke on Sunday morning to a nation grieving; a nation that was grieving before I laid my head on my pillow, the night before; a nation that has now become defined by hate. 

Throughout the day, as I listened to reactions from different segments of our society I was saddened by the violence, the death and the hatred that precipitated it. Wave after wave of emotion washed over me. Sadness was washed away with the heat of anger, to be pushed aside by the love that cannot be quenched, as I watched the peaceful marches spring up from coast to coast, and listened to the stories of Heather Heyer, who died as she had lived, standing up for her friends.

Just as despondency would claim me, I would bear witness to the spirit of goodness and love that was bringing people together, in peace, to rise up and resist the forces of evil that circle us without ceasing. We will not allow the elements of hate to smother us.

Ours is a country founded on promise and hope. It has struggled before to reach that goal of liberty and justice for all. Yet, beyond all reason, our country bears the standard of equal rights for everyone. At least we did. Now we are a badge of discrimination. Our government as turned against, Muslims, Mexican and other Hispanics. It is in apparent acceptance of discrimination against people of color and Jews. It has disenfranchised the Native Americans and more subtly taken away support for women and the less fortunate.

But we are not finished yet. We will not be limited by the views of hate groups and the narrow minded. We will not stand for the exaltation of a select few. We are many and we are strong and we are the good guys. We will walk in peace, hand-in-hand, to decry our love of this nation. We will stand shoulder to shoulder to protect one another because this is one country and we are one race. We are one spirit.

Memorial Day, Monday, May 29, 2017.

Memorial Day has always been a special holiday for me. My parents were married on Memorial Day. At that time, before we decided all holidays had to be celebrated around a 3-day weekend, it was always on May 30. My entire childhood was in an era that memorialized World Wars I and II and tied together the words “war” and “patriotism.” “From Here To Eternity” “The Bridge Over the River Kwai,” “Mister Rogers” were a few of the movies. “Hogan’s Heroes” “Combat” and “McHale’s Navy” were some of the television series I watched each week, as we kept our sense of patriotism alive during the 50s and 60s and sent our young people to Korea to fight.

I was the wife of a soldier for 15 years, part of which were during the misunderstood and very unpopular, Vietnam War. I had the experience of twice, sending my husband off to the war, while fighting an internal battle regarding the necessity of this particular action, as I was learning of things that happened there, I was unable to accept. Twice, I welcomed him home without the cheers other returning warriors had known.

Age has delivered to me a growing abhorrence of war, of the waste of youthful lives and what they could have become, of all we lose with every battle we fight. Age also gives me the realization that we cannot live without it. Those two thoughts aside, I believe in the lives and the hearts and souls of our military. They go to battle wherever they are needed, whether they believe in the battle or not. They fight with no less heart on one battlefield than on another. They put aside their own needs and comforts and face danger and adversity, so the rest of us can remain safe. They serve us all.

So, as I once again, listen to the soul piercing strains of “Taps” calling once again to the fallen, I honor our military personal who have given until they could give no more. I offer my eternal gratitude to those who have made my life and yours what it is today. I offer my condolences to those who carry in their hearts, a place for someone, who will not come home again.  

Blessings to us all.

Echoes From The Ashes

May 18, 2017

CHAPTER 1

October 1981

Elyse trudged slowly, doggedly along the damp street, her head down and hands jammed into the pockets of her raincoat. Completely and obviously unaware of her surroundings, she moved through the drizzling rain like a sleepwalker until the sharp bleat of a car horn crashed into her consciousness, slamming her back into the present.She jerked to a stop and looked around.  Corkscrew strands of unruly, faded, blonde hair escaped the droopy brim of her rain hat and a frown creased her forehead as she stood there, searching for a familiar landmark.

It wasn't the first time since she moved to Seattle that Elyse's mind had drifted more than just a little.  The streets seemed to hypnotize her.  A relaxing walk would turn into an avenue of introspection, and in the same way that she wandered the city, trying to learn her way around, her mind would wander back through her life, trying to find order in the twists and turns of her existence.

This morning she looked around for a clue as to her whereabouts and the time of day, as the drizzle made it impossible to guess. She spied an open doorway a few steps ahead.  The sign over the door read "Time 'N Again" and the tidy windows teased her with an enticing array of objects from days gone by.  An old wicker rocker and a wooden butter churn were grouped with a cabinet full of kitchen utensils and crockery, creating a welcoming feel. As the lazy drizzle suddenly became a downpour she dashed inside to escape.  There were lovely vignettes toward the front of the store, but the back was a jumble of boxes and piles.

"Oh!  I'm afraid we're not open yet," called a tenor voice from the rear.  "Sammy, you just left the door wide open when you brought that last box in."  A tall, willowy gentleman with thin blonde hair emerged from the shadows, alternately clasping his hands together and fluttering them nervously.

“It's okay, Sidney,” answered a deep bass voice.  “She just might be our first customer."  Another gentleman with a somewhat more robust appearance stood up from behind one of the large crates nearby and smiled warmly at Elyse.  "Come on in, sweetie.  Look all you want.  If you find something that strikes your fancy and isn't priced yet, we'll just have to come up with a price on the fly.  Really, Sidney, you wouldn't want to turn the poor lady out in that pouring rain, would you?  Of course not."

"Well no, no, I don't suppose I would, Sammy."  He turned a sweet smile on Elyse and edged closer to his companion.  "As a matter of fact, I have just this minute brewed a pot of the most delicious coffee and I think our first customer should be invited to join us for coffee and Danish."

"Oh, no thank you.  I wouldn't dream of intruding on your coffee break," Elyse replied, only to be immediately embarrassed as her stomach rumbled in protest.  She had left her tiny house a little after 7:00 a.m. in search of a light breakfast.  The grandfather clock on the far wall told her it was now almost 10:30.

"Nonsense!" boomed Sam.  "We have plenty and Sidney makes coffee Starbuck's would kill for.  Please have a taste before you go back out into the weather."

As hungry as she was, she couldn't refuse.  The rich aroma of the coffee met her before the cup reached her lips.  Sam was right.  She had never tasted better and she had sampled many coffees while she explored the city.  As the piping, hot brew reached her stomach and radiated its warmth throughout her body, she felt herself relax, listening to the two men chatter back and forth around her. 

While she sated her hunger with a warm cheese Danish, they told her about Sam's inheritance from his grandmother and the big layoff at Boeing that had pushed them to start the antique store.

"It just seemed to fall into place, you know," Sidney said.

Soon they were bringing their favorite objects for her inspection and dragging her from one display to another, their pride in their new venture a delightful mixture of optimism and apprehension. 

Elyse had never been a collector of antiques, although she had several pieces of old kitchen crockery that had belonged to her grandmother.  They were special to her because of their tie to her sweet grandma, not simply because they had survived intact for a hundred years.  As she wandered around the store, however, it began to weave a spell around her.  She could visualize certain objects as they would look in her house, or imagine them in a previous setting.  As she looked at the wear on a rocking chair arm, she envisioned a mother's elbow resting there as it cradled a sleeping child.  A battered toy might have been the favorite plaything of a lonely little boy. She was making up scenarios for the items that caught her attention.

Eventually she became aware that she was wandering the store alone.  Sidney and Sam had gone back to their tasks, leaving her to become lost in the stories of the past that crowded around her.  A movement off to the side caught her attention.  When she turned, she saw that it was a vanity mirror standing in the box Sam had brought in earlier.  It caught the reflection of the ceiling fan overhead, and seemed to beckon to her.

Elyse walked carefully over to the box to examine the mirror.  It was the kind a lady would place on top of her vanity table.  It had three parts hinged together, the outer two of which were smaller and could be folded together over the middle part, or partially opened to brace the center mirror and give one a larger area.  When she laid her fingers against the cool glass she was jolted by a strong surge of recognition.  This is just like the one my mama used to have, she thought.  Then immediately realized it was not at all true.  She had spent her childhood in a tiny town on the Texas Gulf Coast.  Her father was a brick layer.  Beautiful silver-trimmed vanity mirrors were not necessary, and they rarely had anything that wasn't necessary.

And yet the mirror was so familiar to her. She could imagine sitting in front of it while someone brushed her hair. As she traced the silver scrollwork around the edges she almost remembered doing that very thing before. Delicate lilies climbed up the sides and draped themselves over the top.  If she turned it over she knew there would be a leather backing and writing in gold on the lower left edge.  The face that looked back at her from the mirror seemed almost unfamiliar, as if she expected to see something other than her own blue eyes and fair, freckled skin.  Feeling a little light headed, Elyse slowly turned the mirror around and was oddly relieved to find the leather back devoid of any lettering.  The leather was warm to her touch as she ran her fingers across the surface, feeling the slightly uneven texture caused by years of wear.

"Isn't that a lovely piece?" Sam asked.  "I just got that whole box of stuff at an estate auction last night.  Old man that lived out in the hills, close to Olympia.  He died two weeks ago, and his widow couldn’t seem to wait to get rid of all his stuff.”  He reached into the box and brought out a hand mirror and a comb and brush set trimmed with silver lilies to match the vanity mirror.  “She sure wasn’t in deep mourning for him, but I don’t know why she was so anxious to get rid of these things.  They obviously weren’t his and they’re worth ten times what I paid for them. 

“Look at this.”  He reached for a small crystal box.  When he lifted the silver lid Elyse heard the light tinkling notes of a happy song.  The tune caused a giggle to bubble up before she realized it. It was so familiar she could almost sing along, but the words wouldn’t quite come to her; just flashes of children playing and fishes singing. She closed her eyes as feelings of joy pulsed through her.

Slowly, she felt the room recede, as if she were being sucked out of it.  She had a perfect memory of a lovely dark-haired woman singing to her along with that music box.  Then she began to fall.  Still clutching the mirror to her chest with one hand, she reached for something to steady herself with the other, as the floor tilted and ebbed.  The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the floor with her back against the large carton, the mirror still clamped against her chest.  Both men were bending over her.  Sam was patting her hand.

 “Are you alright?” he asked with concern. 

“Yes, I think so,” she answered.  “I don’t think I have ever fainted before.  I didn’t break anything, did I?”

“No, you just sort of wilted and sank right straight down.”

Nevertheless, Sidney seemed glad to retrieve the beautiful mirror and place it back in the box before he scurried away for a glass of water.

As she stood up, Elyse realized she still felt a little strange, sort of light headed and unsure.  “Could you call me a cab, please?  I don’t think I feel much like walking home just now.”

“Sure, where do you want to go?” Sam asked, as Sidney handed her a glass half full of cold water.

When she gave him her address, Sidney spoke up, “I am going right by there to pick up that carton from Mrs. Axley.  I’ll drop you off.”

By the time he left her in front of her house, Elyse was able to put her episode in perspective.  It was stress overload.  She had a new home, a new job, a new life.  She was about to start on a major conversion project at work and she had a to-do list a mile long.  It hardly seemed unusual for someone under that much pressure to have a minor melt down.

But she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of disorientation.  She felt that if she turned too quickly she might lose her balance and tip over.  Emma, her landlady waved to her from across the small courtyard they shared.  Emma’s house sat close to the street, a picturesque Alpine looking cottage with window boxes and bird feeders in abundance.  The entire tiny space between her house and the sidewalk was given over to peonies and rhododendrons held in by a low boxwood hedge.  “Mein garten” she called it.  “My little piece of Germany.”  Her accent caused her to pronounce it “Chermany.”

Elyse rented the smaller cottage, which sat in back and to the left of Emma’s house.  Her front door opened to a bricked courtyard that connected her house to Emma’s back door.  It was no more than twenty feet away, but private, tucked away behind a weeping cherry tree, a rose-covered lattice trellis and dozens of large plants in huge pots.  Both houses had a view of Lake Union from the back.  Elyse had loved it at first sight, knowing it would be her safe-haven, a place all her own to begin to sort out her feelings and to start over with her new life.

Emma was a bonus, a plump, motherly figure, with steel gray fluffy hair. Elyse was immediately drawn to her.  She just knew somehow, that she could go to Emma when she wanted comfort and support, or hide from her without guilt when she needed time alone.  Today she waved back and headed straight for her own little green doorway, wanting only to rest.

“You vant some tea?” Emma called.

“Maybe later, Emma.  I have a big headache right now.  I’m going to lie down.”

“Come for supper zen.  I make you rouladen.”

“Great!  What time?”

Elyse wasn’t sure what rouladen was, but based on her limited past experience with Emma’s cooking she was willing to give it a try.  But now sleep.

CHAPTER 2

Promptly at 5:00 p.m. Elyse knocked on Emma’s back door.

“Come in.  Come in,” Emma said as she opened the door.  “Vhat chou got dere?”

“A good German Kabinett,” Elyse answered, handing Emma the bottle of wine.  “I hope it will go good with … whatever it is you said we are having.”

“German wine goes good with everyzing,” Emma said with a chuckle.  “How you been?  You don’t look so good when you come home before.”

“Oh, I think I just got too tired.  I went out for a walk and ended up over by Pioneer Plaza.”

“Gross Gott!  Das ist far.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.  I found a great little antique shop though,” she said with a quick smile.  “It hasn’t even opened yet, but they let me wander around and even gave me a snack.”  Elyse’s voice faded and a frown line appeared between her eyes.  She looked toward the window, but her gaze was inward.  “They had some really beautiful items from an old man’s estate over by Olympia.  He died a couple of weeks ago, and his widow is getting rid of everything.”

Emma was busy with the wine opener and mumbled something indistinct.

Elyse pursed her lips and more lines appeared on her forehead.  “The strangest thing happened while I was there.  I picked up this ornate vanity mirror and it seemed so familiar to me.  For a moment, I actually felt as if I recognized it.”  She turned to look at Emma.

“Yah?”  Emma’s gaze met hers.

“Well, I couldn’t have.  I don’t think I have ever seen anything remotely like that in my life.”

“Maybe in pictures?”

“Yeah, probably.”  Elyse’s gaze strayed once again to the window.  She didn’t mention the fainting or the disturbing dreams she couldn’t remember, that left her more tired than rested after her nap.

“How is work?”

“Good, busy. The new computer room is finished and the computer is being installed this week. We will start training for the new system in a couple of weeks.”

“Big job, yah?”

“Yes, it is. Sort of scary. I have never been part of a project this big before. But it’s what I went back to school for. I needed a solid career path after my divorce.”

“I know nozzing of computers.”

“They are the way of the future. The credit union is taking a big step by getting their own computer in-house. If I don’t screw this up, I will probably have job security for many years.”

“You vere married long time?”

“Almost 15 years.  But it hadn’t been good for a lot of that time.” Elyse’s lips curved into a slight smile. “I thought Mark would be my knight in shining armor, but his idea of marriage and mine didn’t quite mesh. I was always on his mind, but not often in his immediate thoughts.”

Emma threw a questioning look toward Elyse as she reached for the wine glasses. Her fingers were gnarled and knotted as were her toes now hidden inside the soft slippers she wore. Elyse caught a glimpse of some marking on her forearm.

“He loved having me at home when he got there, but he was seldom there. His job kept him away a lot anyway, but even when he was home he was always somewhere else. Golfing or fishing or something with the guys. Not much time for me. I guess we just wore it out, the marriage.”

“No kinder?”

“No. It might have been different if we had had children.”

Emma poured the wine and handed Elyse a glass.

*****

Elyse remembered that night, the beginning of the end. It was February, one of her favorite months in San Diego. The days were cool enough to wear sweaters and the evenings were warm enough to get by with a light jacket. A Sunday, and Mark had picked up a client at the airport early in the afternoon. They would play a couple of rounds of golf and then Mark would ply him with dinner and drinks to soften him up for the sales pitch to come in the morning.

She slipped on her jacket and walked down the hill to the Longhorn Tavern, a local hangout. Her mouth was watering for one of their juicy hamburgers. Just as she reached the door, a long-time friend of theirs walked out waving over his shoulder. When he saw Elyse, he stopped and looked back into the bar before meeting her eye.

“Hey Jeremy!” she said. “You leaving? I was just heading in for a burger.”

Again, he glanced over his shoulder and then threw his arm over her shoulder, turning her around.

“Kitchen’s closed,” he said. “Trouble with the sprinklers or something. I’m heading over to Bully’s. They have good burgers. Come with me.”

She stopped and looked into the doorway as a tall blonde man ambled out. “Really?” she asked. “Sprinklers?”

He was steadily walking her toward the parking lot. “Yeah. I don’t know what it’s about, but I’m hungry and you are too, so let’s go find us some grub. I’ll bring you back afterward. You don’t want me to have to eat alone do you?”

The door opened again spitting out two revelers who had had a couple too many. They staggered over to a taxi waiting in the parking lot and got in. Jeremy pressed her toward his car.

With one final look back, Elyse got into his car. Once they got to Bully’s they reconsidered and decided to have prime rib instead. It was the house specialty after all. As that lent itself more to wine than beer, they also split a bottle of Pinot Noir. Jeremy was very entertaining and the band was good and if Elyse was a little quiet, Jeremy filled in the gaps.

When he dropped her off at home it was after 9:00 p.m. and Mark was asleep in front of the television. She watched his deep steady breathing from the doorway. The fragrance of Giorgio was barely discernable from there. Elyse loved that fragrance, but she never wore it. It changed on her and wasn’t pleasant. She stood there for several minutes and then turned and went to bed.

After that, whenever Jeremy called for Mark and he was out with a client, Jeremy and Elyse would talk for a while. His easy banter made for pleasant conversation. Elyse was always glad to talk. She no longer had a taste for burgers at the Longhorn, but sometimes she would meet Jeremy for a burger at Bully’s. She often noticed the fragrance of Giorgio in the laundry basket. In April, Mark went to New York on a business trip. When Jeremy called, they decided to have dinner at Bully’s again. This time, again it was prime rib with fresh horse radish and Pinot Noir. Elyse dawdled over the last glass of wine, drawing out the conversation until it ran into a dry spot. She raised her eyes to Jeremy’s and pulled her lower lip between her teeth before she spoke. “Jeremy, do you know who she is?”

She could tell he wanted to look away, but she skewered his gaze with her own.

He waited several beats before answering. “She’s only passing through, Elyse. She’s not half the lady you are.”

“Been around for a while though, hasn’t she?”

“Yeah, but. . .”

Elyse put her hand over his and smiled. “It’s okay, Jeremy. It isn’t your fault.”  She raised the wine to her lips. That night she brought him home, into her bed; the bed she had made so carefully before she left; the bed with candles flickering low on the side tables. It was a good night, a sweet night, a night that left them both spent and renewed at the same time. For six weeks, while she finished a course in computer science and Mark continued to “entertain clients” and bring home the scent of Giorgio, she and Jeremy found comfort together. 

Then Mark went to New York again for a week. Elyse loaded the car, withdrew exactly one-half the money in the savings account, left enough in the checking account to pay the monthly bills and drove north on the Pacific Coast Highway. She spent two leisurely days soaking up the ambience of Carmel; the unique shops, the beach, the attitude of self-indulgence. On Friday, she sat at a bar looking out at the waves rolling in while sipping a glass of champagne and glancing at her watch. She had given her lawyer Mark’s itinerary, telling him the best time to catch Mark would be as he arrived back at the airport. At 3:45 she put her lips against the cold champagne glass and drew the thrilling bubbles into her mouth. A toast to the end of her marriage. Mark had been served.  The next day she continued north, taking three more leisurely days to reach Seattle and her new life.

*****

Emma found the story quite amusing as they sipped a glass of wine before dinner. “Men!” she said shaking her head.

“Tell me about Germany before the war” Elyse said, changing the subject.  “I was there for a while, in Nuremberg.”

“You vere in Nuremberg?”

“Yes.  My sister’s husband was in the Army and he was stationed there in 1963.  When I graduated, my family pitched in and gave me a ticket to go visit.  I ended up staying there and working as a nanny for the Commanding Officer’s children for a year.  I was positively spellbound by the city.  I had never even see the Disney Castle before and there I was walking around a real one every day.  I just loved it!”

“Ya, is beautiful.  You should see it before ze bombs.”  Emma took a healthy swallow from her glass and stared off into the distance, her face becoming soft and tender.

“When was the last time you were back there?”

Emma dropped her gaze to the floor and her lips seemed to shrink.  Several seconds passed before she spoke.  “I only go back once since I come to America.”  Emma smiled a quick tight smile.  “Ten years after ze war I go back.  Nozzing vas ze same,” she said with almost no inflection.  “Dere vas no one left that I knew.  I have no reason to go back.”  She took a deep breath and continued.  “But I have many vunderbar memories.”  She smiled a bright, sweet smile but Elyse saw tears close to the surface and she thought suddenly how much older Emma looked.

“When did you leave there?” Elyse asked.

Emma took another smaller sip of her wine and swallowed slowly, her eyes stayed on the glass after she returned it to the table.  “I left Nuremberg ze day after Kristallnacht.  You know of it?”

Elyse felt a tiny pop somewhere inside her head and the room seemed to tilt and sway.  She quickly grabbed hold of the table to keep herself upright, but the room continued to swim around her.

“Was ist?” Emma said seeing the sudden pallor on Elyse’s face.  “Are you okay?  You are shaking!”  

“I don’t know, I guess so,” Elyse replied.  “I felt so funny for a moment, sort of dizzy.  Just like I felt in the store today, but worse.  Just now I was terrified.  Feel my heart.  It’s still pounding.”  She looked down at her shaking hands, unnerved by the dread she was feeling. 

As her terror subsided she looked up at Emma, breathing deeply, “I’m okay now.” She raised her wine glass to emphasize her point, and made a decision to see a doctor within the next few days.

“Ve should eat,” Emma said.  “You have had a bad day and need your rest.  But first some good food.”

The Reich’s Treasure Box, Nuremberg: November 9, 1938

“Mutti! Mutti!” Liesel ran into the dressing room and flung her arms around the glamorous lady at the dressing table. “Mutti, Uncle Fritz says Rachel can stay the night.”

“I know,” Christine answered. “You two can read stories to each other and sing songs and maybe do a dance for us all.”

The honking car horns and the whine of the polizei wagon outside on the street intruded on the scene.

“I want red lips too, Mutti.”

Christine hugged her close before dabbing her red lipstick on Liesel’s puckered lips. “Now let’s go down stairs and see who all is here.” She pulled the heavy drapes open just enough to look outside before following Leisel out the door.  There was much activity in the street below.  Noisy youth were clumped together on the corners, their brown shirts and stiff-armed salutes causing a knot of unease in Christine.

The radio had been giving hourly updates on the condition of Third Secretary Ernst Von Rath who was shot two days earlier. Nuremberg was writhing with unleashed emotion. Everyone was aware that energies were escalating and no one could imagine what the worst-case scenario would be. Christine only knew that fear was like a boiling kettle inside her, keeping her jittery and uncomfortable.

Her brother, Fritz was married to a Jewess. Their daughter, Rachel was two months older than her own precious Liesel. Afraid now to stay in their own house because the storm troopers had gotten so very close the night before, Fritz and Rachel had come to Christine and Hans for sanctuary.

As Christine entered the parlor the girls were playing songs on the piano and she hugged them both, leaving a kiss on each head; Leisel’s medium blonde, like Christine’s and Rachel’s, a rich dark brown/black.

“She won’t come,” Fritz was saying as she entered the kitchen. “She is afraid she will bring danger into this house.”

“Nonsense” Hans replied. “She can’t stay there alone.”

“She has gone to her sister’s and they are going to try to get out of Germany. She wants Rachel here where she will be safe.”

Christine put her hand on Fritz’s shoulder and tears rose dangerously close to the rims of her eyes.

“Oh, Fritz, how can she bear it? How can you?”

He patted her hand and turned away. Christine’s eyes locked with Hans’.

After the dinner dishes were done, Rachel and Leisel called the adults into the parlor for a stellar performance by the cousins. They danced and sang and together played songs on the piano until Christine shooed them upstairs to get ready for bed. Later when the knock sounded on the front door, Christine felt as if cold water was poured down her back.

Hans checked the window and said, “It’s okay. It’s Dietrich.”

The two men spoke quietly at the door before Dietrich nodded his goodbye and slipped back out into the night.

“He’s dead,” Hans said turning to Fritz and Christine. “A little while ago. It is doomsday!”

Already the sounds of shouting outside were growing louder. A car horn blared without stopping. Fritz stood as if he were ready to run, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side, his eyes staring into a reality that was not in that room.

“I need to find Esther,” he began to mutter. “I have to know if she’s alright.”

“Fritz, you can’t go out now,” Christine said. “Rachel needs you.”  The sounds of girlish laughter filtered down the stairwell causing Fritz to look up. Torn between his fear for his wife and his daughter’s need for him, he stood trembling, in the middle of the room. The demeaning yellow star glaring at him from his daughter’s coat hanging on the rack.

Renewal or Extinction

Every day I see and hear of our inhumanity. It’s in the news, in conversation and on social media.  Animals are abused and neglected, hunted for the thrill of the kill. Children are mistreated, abandoned and even murdered. Women find themselves in the throes of domestic violence or victims of rape, rape by strangers or enemies or even their peers in school or the military. There is constant fighting between this group and that group, between religions; this versus that, us versus them, good versus evil, right versus wrong. I sometimes wonder if the entire world is self-destructing. We are even fighting over the damage we are causing the earth, the very act of killing it.

The earth will probably survive, but it may have to get rid of humankind before it can. Perhaps we are nearing the end times. Maybe it will happen in our lives. Perhaps.

Or could we could now be into the chaos before renewal? It is said that before rebirth there must come a period of cleansing to remove the elements that stand between the now and the new, to tear down the obstacles and clear away the debris. There are many who stand by the belief that we are, right now in the process of the rebirth of humanity and of spirit and I feel that we are. At least sometimes I feel that way and other times I think we are hopelessly circling the drain.

I do know that it wasn’t too many years ago that we turned our heads at most cruelty and neglect of animals. It was fashionable to make fun of the “tree huggers” because “the needs of people were more important than the needs of nature’s creatures.” Now there are groups and rescuers of all sorts and the cruelty is in our face. We have to see it, to recognize it and to condone it or do something about it. I think this is us evolving, realizing we are part of a bigger entity, realizing we have an obligation to stop the pain and begin to learn a new kindness.

Fifty years ago we routinely minded our own business when we suspected or sometimes even witnessed violence within a family setting. Beating a wife or hard punishments for children were, if not absolutely acceptable, sometimes excusable. A little more than seventy years ago the entire world stood quietly by and allowed a whole race of people to be almost annihilated. And of course that was not the first time or the last. But we are looking these atrocities in the face now. We are speaking out against them, even when it is uncomfortable or risky.

 Some of us are even looking to a future time that will allow peace. I hear all the time that it will never be, we have had wars from the beginning of time, but I can’t quite give up this dream. We could all live together on this big round mass in our corner of the universe and if we stopped contaminating the water and poisoning the food and hoarding the necessities there would be plenty for everyone, plenty. There would be no need to steal or pillage or fight or even hate if we weren’t afraid of losing what we have, whether it is what we need or what we want. It may be that this can’t happen until everything has been destroyed and the greedy have no need for their treasure.

And we haven’t really had wars since the beginning of time. We have only had wars since humans became aware of the power of ownership.

What do you think? Are we on the verge of a whole new existence or are we marked for extinction?

Who Am I

Who Am I?

The end of the year brings longer nights and shorter days and colder weather. I believe this forces us indoors and gives us extra time to cozy up to others in our lives and to look into the shadowy places and ground ourselves. December brings us the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year. It is a holy time for many different religions, a time for spiritual renewal.

As we prepare for the newness of the year and the spiritual awakening, it is a good time to reevaluate our positions. As we clean out our closets and fortify our homes we need to also look at our beliefs and weed out the things that are not moving us forward in our spiritual evolution and make room for fresh ideas and new journeys.

Who am I? I am a Christian, because I was introduced to the teachings of Jesus Christ as young child and I believe in his life and his spirit and in the lessons he preached so passionately. I am Jewish because Jesus was Jewish and he loves the Jews. I am Jewish, because I was a Jew in a previous life.

I am Wiccan, because I embrace the healing, non-judgmental, do-no-harm tenants this earth based religion teaches. I am Wiccan because the spirit of Wicca is in the very earth and air and fire and water. I have been Wiccan in former lives.

I am Native American because the blood of my paternal grandfather connects me to people who used to walk this land with pride and caring and respect for the natural and the supra-natural. I am Native American because they would not allow themselves to be annihilated by the interlopers. They, we perservered.

I am European, because my ancestors immigrated to this land hundreds of years ago. I am English and Irish and Scottish and Dutch and who knows what other nationality.

I am an animal lover, because I believe the Creator made us all, the earth, all the creatures and all the beliefs. I believe that every tiny organism is important in the design of this reality. We should respect one another and every animal and every living and non-living thing on this planet, because this was given to us to be our home. So far we have not been good stewards and for that I am sorry and ashamed. I could have done more. I should have done more. There is still much I can do.

Who am I? I am one of you. I am everyone. I am everything. I am not separate from you nor are you separate from me. When I breathe my breath becomes yours. The air is not compartmentalized. It does not stop at borders. It is one entity that encompasses the entire earth. When you breathe, your breath eventually becomes mine.

Who am I? Who are you? We are both dependent on each other. We are. We are. We are we.

What Would Jesus Do?

The religious wars seem to be heating up. What would Jesus do? The Catholic Church has for centuries courted the holders of the gold and the holders of the gold have rewarded the church with the support needed to support the lifestyle to which the church royalty has become accustomed. Now the head of the Catholic Church which is the unofficial head of Christianity is turning his face from the obscenity of capitalism. What WILL this do to the future of both capitalism and the church as we have come to know it?

Until now the Catholic Church, Mother Church of Christianity, has been the undisputed leader in funneling money out of the pockets of the poor up unto the bastions of ritual that is the Vatican, leaving solid gold icons scattered along the way in even the poorest churches. I have often wondered what must go through the mind of a devout Catholic mother unable to buy an apple for her hungry children to share, as she drops her tithe into the 14k gold collection plate so she can then be told she will be damned to hell if she uses contraception when her forceful husband demands sex.

A change is coming. Led by the new Pope Francis, the Catholic Church is toning down the opulence of the Vatican and trickling it down. He is speaking out against the ineffectiveness of economies that seem to penalize the poor in order to pander to the rich. Sound familiar? Isn’t that something Jesus would do? Did do?

Now it is the protestant conservatives clothed as Tea Partiers who are outraged at the lazy poor who reach out with their dirty hands for a morsel here and there, when we all know it is the hard working rich who deserve the tax breaks and government subsidies. “Not out of my taxes,” they shout from the private resort in the Cayman Islands where they go to visit their undeclared money.

“Not out of my taxes,” they shout as they give thanks each Sunday for the comfortable retirement they have earned.  “Let them earn their own.”

 “Not out of my taxes,” they shout as they struggle to make their own mortgage payment while they look for someone with even less, to blame for their not being wealthy enough.

“Not out of my taxes.”  In a rush of heartlessness unrivaled since the days of Marie Antoinette, conservatives are scouring the Bible for passages that will offer them forgiveness when they kick the poor to the curb to starve in the increasingly brutal winters.

The very same people who elevate Phil Robertson for anti-gay and openly racist remarks are now condemning the Pope for his wishes to help the poor. Oh Dear God! What would Jesus do?