Proud of My Town

Black Lives Matter is more than a slogan.   There are programs and global actions (and a gift shop, of course) and there's Campaign Zero.  

Somewhat less controversial than defund the police (which should really be called reallocate resources), these eight steps to reform policing have been proposed nationwide.

As of Wednesday afternoon,  two cities in the United States have adopted them.

San Francisco is one of them, probably to no one's surprise.

Tucson, Arizona is the other.

I have never been as happy to call it home.

Comfort

I was in need of solace today.  My President decided to comfort me by manhandling a Bible in front of a church; he moved 10,000 peaceful protesters seeking redress of their grievances to do so.  I'm sure some people are impressed by this.  I am not.

I didn't want to hear about federal troops securing the populace (read: property).  I wanted hope and guidance and love and reassurance that, somehow, we will figure this out together.  I didn't need someone with the answers.  I needed someone willing to engage the conversation, with an open heart and a hug whenever necessary.

I needed my Mommy.  

I didn't want a picture.  I wanted to spend time with her.  I took out her recipe for Stuffed Cabbage (Holishkes) and started to smile before the index cards were settled on the counter.

She kept her recipes in a metal card box, with alphabetical separators and smudges of meals gone by.  If you look closely, you can see her smiling as she notices the tomato stains on the ones she wrote for me, many decades ago. And if you read them, you can hear her, too.  

Only an educated woman could combine squish and mush and come up with squoosh 

which is exactly the sound the mixture makes as it squooshes through your fingers. 

G'ma and I had a good laugh about that.

I blanched cabbage and squooshed the filling and rolled it all up into neat little packets.  They were cooking and now they're simmering and soon they'll be browning. 

Can you smell them? 

G'ma is all around me, embedded in every breath I take, helping me get through a difficult day.  I'm going to follow her advice (see below)  

and hope tomorrow is a better day.

No Words

I have all these thoughts. My head tends to explode as I follow them. I keep trying, but I have no way to make sense....

If part of being an ally is opening myself to the anguish......

FlapJilly loves her Facebook Messenger app because she and I can chat.... if Mama gives her the phone....on which she saw something that led them to a conversation about skin color and how some people think it makes a difference and the importance of standing up when people are mean because of skin color and my favorite little girl's face appeared over her mother's shoulder, nodding her agreement with a fierce and determined and certain mien as my daughter and I tried not to cry........

https://bensbells.org/

Ben's Bells organized a clean-up in Downtown Tucson on Saturday morning, after protest turned to destruction on Friday night, and the only thing more absurd than the oxymoron of Downtown Tucson is breaking the windows of the local businesses who support it .... and then I go off the deep end (Are there outside agitators in Tucson?)..... 

Not only do I have no words, I have no conclusions trying to be put into words..

I do know this.  In my darkest days, after I watched Gabby Giffords's head blow apart, senselessly, suddenly, 10' away from me...... I often found  myself sitting at a table in a corner of the Ben's Bells studio, painting coins 

for bells, 

as I wept, acknowledged but unmolested, doing good when I could think of nothing else to do.  

Beautiful Annie gifted me this one in the hospital while they buried my little friend.

 

It hangs beside the fireplace in our living room; I notice it every single day.  It speaks to me and smiles at me and today, perhaps it's giving me some guidance.....

I feel better having written this.  Thanks for helping me organize a thought.  

Kindness..........

It's not a bad place to start, I guess, but........