On Taking a Knee

I took a knee today, just to tie my shoe.

Not folding from the waist as I had admired the cheerleaders doing at a football game in 1975 as I sat and sweated in my purple wool band uniform and fuzzy white shako, waiting for our director to lift his baton and lead us in “On Wisconsin” as the flexible cheerleaders bounced in their snuggly-tied shoes, because I knew that bending my knees was better for my back and that I could bend at the waist all day long and still not be popular.

I took a knee today to clean the litter box.

Cat #1 seemed to understand the nasty nature of my chore, and waited patiently as I scooped and threw away her leavings, thoroughly washed my hands, made a cup of tea and sat down to read so she could climb on my lap.  Cat #2 barely noticed me working as she slid by on her way to her morning perch in my bedroom window to study her birds.  I thought of the boys at the long-ago Bar Mitzvah party who threw their napkins at me as they ran by, one of them laughing as he said, “Give it to the maid,” and I wanted to shout back, “I’m with the caterer,” and came home and cried because I didn’t want to be a maid, I was in grad school dammit and now here I am scooping poop into a plastic grocery bag. 

I took a knee today to pick up spilled pistachios.

I actually took two knees and one hand to balance, one hand to scoop up the nuts.  I had poured pistachios into a bowl for Olive, and gave her another bowl for the shells she loved to crack open all by her 3-year-old self, but she insisted on keeping the nearly-full bag on the footstool beside us as we read and cracked and ate pistachios, one for me, three for her.  I wish I had vacuumed before she came over that afternoon and before the bag took a tumble; I watched a few cat hairs go into the bag along with the pistachios.  “Oh no,“ I said, “cat hair!”  Olive kept on scooping and said, “It’s OK, Mimi, a little cat hair never hurt anyone” and I wondered how many times in her little life someone has told her “a little blank never hurt anyone.”

It’s good to take a knee and a breather after an uphill climb on a beautiful fall hike.  Kurt Vonnegut said, “…I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’”  I like to think he would be a big advocate of taking a knee.

It’s good to take a knee in the presence of something holy.

It’s good to take a knee and think on the common bonds of our humanness, the struggles we understand but do not suffer, the peace we all want.

It’s no good to go around with an untied shoe or a litter box full of poop or pistachios all over the floor. 

It’s no good to close my eyes to the messy reality of my house or the world, to hope that my shoelaces will tie themselves and that all people will treat all people with respect and love.

I take a knee and acknowledge the mess around me; I honor the mess that comes from owning a home (and sharing it with pets).  I honor the pistachios we eat, a child who loves me and shoes on my feet.  I acknowledge the mess we find ourselves in as a nation and honor the great hope and possibility that exists in the simple act of listening to our brothers and sisters. 

And when I take a knee, it’s good to have someone right there beside me -- cat or 3-year-old -- acknowledging that my work is important. It means something, this low-level work.
It’s prayer. 

Because a little time on a knee never hurt anyone.

Peace.

Something Has to Change

I would never steal money.  But because someone stole money in a big-time bingo game operation somewhere in Northern Indiana, the Board of the Southern Indiana Center for the Arts (of which I've recently become a member),  has to jump through a hundred and one hoops in order to get a license to sell raffle tickets at the event we're having in November to try to save the Center.  We handed over copies of our meeting minutes from many years previous, turned in proof that we have a separate bank account for gaming, and sent in the names, addresses, dates of birth, and DL numbers for each Board member who will be selling $1 raffle tickets for the chance to win gift baskets (valued at somewhere around $50 each) at the event.  It may seem ridiculous, but I understand that it's what must be done because A) someone broke the rules, B) this is how it works now, and C) it's for the good of all.

I would never molest a child.  But because some adults -- priests, teachers, coaches, Jerry Sandusky -- have molested children, I can no longer drive children to field trips without a state police background check, and at St. Ambrose School, I had to take a class so I would be more aware of how abusers think and  where abusers may lurk. Shudder.  If I'm helping 4-H children, I can't be alone with a child in a room or a car, and all 4-H volunteers must sit through online awareness sessions even if they have worked with children for 40 years without the hint of incident. (Sometimes I wonder if when I give a music or sewing or knitting lesson, should a parent always stay?  Just in case?)  It is pretty ridiculous that a little old middle-aged woman like me has to worry about this, but I understand that it's what must be done because A) someone broke the rules and B) this is how it works now, and C) it's for the good of all.

I would never shoot anyone.  But because someone shot and killed 20 children and 6 teachers at Sandy Hook Elementary in 2012, because someone shot and killed 49 people and wounded 58 others at the Pulse Night Club in Orlando in  2016, because someone killed 59 and wounded over 500 people in Las Vegas this week, and because someone shoots and kills someone else in our country every single day, it logically follows that private citizens shouldn't be able to own guns any longer.  It's pretty ridiculous, but that's what must be done because A) someone broke the rules and B) this is how it must work now, and,  C) it's for the good of all.

If I were Queen of America, I would like to say this:

I am really sorry for all of you who love to trap shoot or shoot cans off of 

fence posts at your neighbor's farm.  I've done that -- it's really fun.  

But you're going to have to find something else fun to do. 

I am really sorry for those of you who hunt to eat.  

But you're going to have to start buying 

your meat at the grocery store like the rest of us.  

I am sorry for those of you who feel safer carrying
a handgun at your side on in your purse. 

But you're going to have to take some classes in Jackie Chan-style martial arts 

or even better, take a yoga class, meditate and get right with the universe.

I am really sorry for all of you who get a huge hard-on from owning and 

shooting semi-automatic (or illegally-modified automatic) weapons.  

No scratch that.  I don't really feel too sorry for you. 

I am so sorry someone broke the rules, but because they did, 

you can't continue doing what you want to do the way you like to do it.  

This is simple Parenting 101.  

This is Elementary Teaching 101.  

This is American Citizenship 101.

It's for the good of all.

Here is what I will say:

Something has to change.  Something has to change.  Something has to change.

While I wish in my little Pollyanna-shaped heart that the change could be that the Second Amendment is rescinded* and we go door-to-door in every neighborhood, apartment complex and hotel room in the country and collect guns in canvas bags and bury them deep, deep in the ground in the middle of the Grand Canyon where no one is allowed to go ever again, I know in my regular old slightly cynical heart that that is not going to happen.

I believe in change, and that the change starts with hearts.  We must, as a country, change our hearts so that we can, each and every one of us, say this:

LIVES ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN GUN OWNERSHIP

It is more important that children are not killed in their classrooms than it is for me to own a gun.

It is more important that people can fearlessly attend a concert, go to a movie or dance their asses off at a club than it is for me to own a gun. 

It is more important that young people in troubled neighborhoods can walk safely home than it is for me to own a gun.  

It is more important that women in difficult or violent relationships are not killed by guns than it is for me to own a gun. 

It is more important that police officers not be shot, or even fear being shot, in the course of a routine traffic stop than it is for me to own a gun. 

It is more important that people can go to work in a factory, shop or office and be safe and come home to supper every night and be safe and gripe about their work and then sleep with their partner and be safe and get up and do it all again the next day than it is for me to own a gun.  

It is more important that children are not killed in their classrooms than it is for me to own a gun.

I know, I wrote that twice.  That's how important it is to me.

If you cannot speak those words -- "lives are more important than gun ownership" -- then I just don't know about you.  You make me sad. 

What can we do besides say those words?  

Live those words.  

Support organizations that call for sane gun laws. They're right over there on the right, if you'd like to read more or send them some money.  

Tell your Senators and Congresspeople that you care about gun laws.  You care about licenses and registries, you care about silencers, you care about the ease with which a semi-automatic weapon can be modified into an automatic weapon (and yes, I did just learn about that yesterday.)  Your legislators are listed right over there, too.
Better yet, tell them you will not vote for them if they continue to support relaxed gun laws and take money from the NRA.  I had to tell Senator Donnelly just that this morning.

Best, run for office.  Replace those who put gun de-regulation and NRA funding above human life.

That's what I think I might do.  

Although my friend, Nancy Franke (who I support almost 100%), is running again for District 69 Indiana State Representative against current Representative and NRA Supportee Jim Lucas, she is a Republican like him; if she loses in the Primary, someone needs to run against him in the General election as a Democrat, Libertarian, Green or KP (that's Kindness Party -- I'm inventing that one right now.) 

 I volunteer as tribute.  

I never thought about being a State Representative -- well, maybe I did when I was in high school, and hugely admired my dad's friend, Joe Corcoran, who served in that office and was instrumental in bringing Vietnamese refugees to our town.  He was a great man, and not just because he sent me a letter the one time I made the Dean's List at Purdue.  (I still have it.) 

But after last November's election, I made a decision to run for something -- to do something besides write letters to Jim Lucas and others in state and national government.  But I was planning on something more local, more quiet -- like a seat on our school board.  

I really don't want to run for District 69 because I know I will be crushed on social media by Lucas's followers, just like I am every time I call him out on policies, votes or bill introductions that I believe are contrary to basic human kindness and/or are geared toward gun proliferation.  But heeding my own words, lives are more important than my discomfort. 

I really don't want to run for District 69 Representative because I know exactly zero about how to run for office (except for watching every episode of The West Wing), I have exactly $0 to run for office and I have zero idea of how much time, effort and schmoozing are involved.   

I really don't want to run for District 69 Representative because a) I have a shit ton of stuff going on in my life; b) State Representatives probably shouldn't say things like "shit ton"; c) I'll never get my novel written; and d) I don't have a business suit or a pair of low heels in my closet, which is actually full of tunics, leggings, Birkenstocks, and paint-splattered t-shirts and yoga pants. 

But I think I might have to do it. 

If not now, when?  If not me, who?

At the very least, I'll start studying up and think about this idea until some super smart politically-savvy person says, "That woman doesn't know anything about anything except baking cookies, sassy blog posts, knitting hats and playing Baptist hymns by heart -- I better run instead."  

Or even better, how about every super smart person who lives in Indiana District 69 and believes in reasonable gun laws runs for Representative?  

I AM DISTRICT 69!

It's for the good of all.

Peace.

 *and for those of you who want to get all pissy with me about the Constitution, I understand the complex and nearly impossible chance that the Second Amendment will ever be rescinded.  I further understand the complexity of the consequences to the states that such a repeal would entail-- it would be a mess.  I'm not a Constitutional expert; I just read a lot.  But I dream a lot, too, and in my dreams, James Madison is shaking his head at us and saying, "That's not what I meant at all, you doofuses."