After Wallowing, What Will You Fight For?

Sometimes we need to take a little time to wallow.  Animals do it to cool their bodies from a relentless sun, to slough off nasty insects, and to indulge in comfort. But eventually, they come out and face the environment in which they live.

We have no choice but to do the same.

The election results were disappointing (ok, devastating) to half the population, but it’s time to emerge and accept the things we can’t change, have the courage to change the things we can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.  (Credit to Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer).

Accept it.  Donald Trump will be president of the United States come January 20, 2017.

Be courageous.  Fight for change.  For me, it’s protecting Marriage Equality.  I believe that love is stronger than any fear, but fear has done some horrible things to this world.   In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. “freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor, it must be demanded by the oppressed.”  Keep demanding.  If you knew the pure love between my son, Richie and his husband, Ryan, you couldn’t ever let our society turn backward.  So for me, I’ll join every movement I can to ensure that we don’t return to intolerance.  What will you fight for? 

Know the difference.  Don’t waste time moaning about the results.  The fact is that half the population wanted this president.  Be productive and pray for his success.

It’s time to dust ourselves off.  As Paulo Coelho said, “the world is changed by your example, not your opinion.”  Fight for the environment and clean water, disavow racism whenever you see it, treat people with kindness, embrace another culture.  If we hold onto our bitterness and grudges, we’ll never be able to reach for anything new.

A Toast to Marge

One of the things I admired most about my mom was that she was kind, but not a pushover.  Reflecting on her life, she bucked conventional wisdom if it got in the way of her gut feeling.  Here are five examples of the extraordinary ways Marge was ahead of her time:

On Body Image

Marge was, let’s say, – curvy.  She didn’t try to be a size 2.  She found humor, love, and beauty in being (as her mother put it) “big boned.”  It was a running joke with her brother Artie that when she’d get a new dress, he’d quip, “oh, they didn’t have your size?”  She made a decision early on to accept and love her body.  She never starved herself or followed the crowd.  Leave it to Marge to find the pluses in being a plus size.

On Gay Marriage

I’ll never forget the night when I went to my 80-something-year-old parents to break the news that my son, Richie, came out in his freshman year of college.  They both stared at me with something like an ancient wisdom.  Marge said, “that doesn’t make one bit of difference to us and we love him just the way he is.”  And, if you know my parents, they became LGBT activists the minute they knew one of their grandsons was gay.  I still marvel at their grace and I was so blessed that Marge made it to Richie and Ryan’s wedding celebration a few weeks ago.

  

On Guilt

Marge was never big on guilt.  As a matter of fact, to anyone who didn’t make it to her "life-well-lived" celebration, she would be the first to say, “go and have a wonderful time. Live your life!”  Mom knew that guilt was a joyless endeavor that served no one. So, while others ran as fast as they could to leave home, we all couldn’t wait to reunite for Marge’s famous Thursday night dinners.  There, we’d laugh as a family and before we knew it, we were joined for dessert by our neighborhood family – Rosemary, Gary, and George. No matter the topic of conversation or how much banana cream pie we had, guilt was off limits in Marge’s house.

On Environmental Issues

Marge would recycle…to a fault.  She reused some questionable Styrofoam and plastic plates that were way past their prime.  She kept coffee can lids as spoon rests, was mesmerized by restaurant to-go containers, and squirreled away Tupperware like rare antiquities.  For all the times we laughed at her frugality, the truth is that Marge loved and respected the earth.  She never squandered anything that could last a little longer and she took delight in growing tomatoes and talking to her plants.  Part of this was because she was a child of the depression but part of it was because she knew her children would one day inherit the planet.

On Feminism

As the mother of four daughters, mom quickly realized that she had to be an example of strength and dignity in an unjust world.  It was kind of shocking (and hilarious) to find a letter from 1972 where Marge resigned her position because she wasn’t “paid anything near the most inept man (of whom she could name several).”  Being born just two years after women were granted the right to vote, I think Marge was keenly aware that if women were educated, healthy, and had a voice, families would flourish.  And hers did.

So, here’s to Marge – In the walk of life, she focused on the scenery and the spring in her step rather than her sore feet.  Love you, momma.

Democracy on Display - Loving America - Warts and All

Last Thursday I went into the city to experience the buzz of the DNC while it was here in Philadelphia.  I crisscrossed downtown in 12,000 steps in the heat and the rain and felt powerful emotions lurking around every corner.   Love, hate, disgust, weariness, cynicism, hope.  They all hung in the air.

As I walked around, I couldn’t help but think of my mom.  She just turned 94 and it seemed so incredible that she was born two short years after the 19^th Amendment guaranteed women the right to vote.  We take it so for granted and forget how much we owe to those who came before us and insisted on change.  As Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle.”

I can’t begin to tell anyone what the answer is in this tumultuous election cycle, but in my heart I believe that love conquers hate.  We’re presented with a small picture –“Bernie or Bust,” “I’m with Her,” and “Make America Great Again.”  The big picture, though, is that after 240 years, I am free to hop on a train and walk around a city where no one is silenced for their beliefs.