They’ve finally changed the sign on the paint factory next to my
writing studio at the Open Book building downtown. Valspar, who donated paint for our Guerrilla
Garages Program—quick murals over graffiti in the alleys around the church—was bought
out by Sherman Williams, and today I see their name is on the building next to
where I park. Not the old Sherman Williams
Paint logo, with a paint bucket labeled “SWP” is pouring red over the globe—as if
the Socialist Worker’s Party finally did succeed in worldwide revolution—but
new style neon words that continue the corporate model of making things that
are at once fancy and boring.
Last night, BBC News reported that around 7,000 people from the
mostly Christian minority in Kachin State in northern Myanmar have fled their
homes after a military crackdown in the war for independence that started soon
after what was then called Burma’s military took over in 1962. That hasn’t received much international
coverage, especially since 700,000 Rohingya Muslims have fled the genocide by
the Myanmar’s army and their “Buddhist allies”. In college, I did my paper on Burma in the
International Relations course. I remember
that Burma was noted for the particular brand of Buddhism practiced by the
majority there: Theravada Buddhism.
Apparently, if you practice that kind of enlightenment these days,
ethnic cleansing, rape and murder are allowed.
Of course, Aung San Suu Kyi, Myanmar’s Nobel Peace Prize Winner blamed
the trouble on “terrorists”, the favorite word of military dominated
governments worldwide.
On Monday, the Israeli military killed at least 58 Palestinian
protestors and injured more than 2,700 on the 70th anniversary of
the founding of the state of Israel, a day for celebration in Israel, and the
nakba—catastrophe—for Palestinians, who remember hundreds of thousands pushed
out of the homes and towns. The protests
were intensified because our commander in chief moved the U.S. embassy to
Jerusalem (but didn’t go, because Trump doesn’t go to anything—baseball games,
correspondents’ dinners, international events where he can’t pick the entire
audience). Israel says the deaths are the fault of the “terrorist group Hamas”,
and that Israel is the only true democracy in the region. The United States is “always
pro-democracy” and always pushes for “free and fair elections” in any
international situation. Hamas won the elections a few years back, and the US immediately denied their
legitimacy. Solid history there:
elections in Dominican Republic, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Chile, Viet Nam and a
lot of other places that didn’t go the way the U.S. wanted were met with brute
force, blockades, coups, invasions and so on.
U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations, Nicky Haley said of the carnage
inflicted by Israel on the Palestinians on Monday that “no other nation has shown
greater restraint than Israel.” Hmmm.
But then I thought: when a thousand people peacefully protested the
police murder of Freddie Gray in Baltimore, they were met with close to 2,000
city and state police and National Guard in riot gear, with tear gas and so
on. So maybe Haley has a point about
restraint. See Ferguson, New York,
Philly, Minneapolis, Nashville, etc.
I am thinking about my Pentecost sermon coming up. The usual suspects: Getting on Fire! What Wind Can Do! We’re Not Drunk! Well, they just aren’t ringing any bells in
my head. I’m thinking of using a quote I
can’t attribute because I don’t know who said it. The gist of it is that after Pentecost, the
disciples “stayed not with certainty, but with courage.” That is, they didn’t do business as usual,
but took big, joyful, powerful risks.
Are you listening, church?
Nation? Me?
Wednesday mornings and early afternoons, I write at the studio. I
was looking today to see what the themes of my most recent poems published in
journals. In no particular order: immigration, a 4-year old’s response to
witnessing her mother’s boyfriend be shot dead by a policeman while she was
sitting in the back seat of the care, immigration, my dad’s barber shop as a
gentle confessional, teaching gardening to a 6th grade science
class, a love poem to my wife and to God in the same poem (interesting),
immigration, feeding an abandoned dog in a Philly park the week of Christmas,
and getting late to planting at our Shalom Community Garden last year, because
the county seized it, padlocked it and put no trespassing signs on it. Today, I began a poem about meeting a South African
political exile at a university in the Soviet Union and worked on revising
poems about ghosts, a nine-year old thief, Judas’ last moments and riding our
bikes around the slaughterhouse in my home town. Psychologists—amateur or professional—are welcome
to comment.
Minneapolis got 17 inches of snow on April 15, the second big
snowfall of the month. Then we got
heat. All of the trees have blossomed at
once, and the lilacs are wonderful. My
nose loves the aroma and my eyes love the stunning beauty. Both of those body
parts are suffering for their love.
Allergies, anyone?
A bunch of friends from college and I are planning a July “Medicare
Reunion”, since we’ve all turned or will turn 65 this year. Both my new knees should be in pretty good
shape by then.
In exactly 21 days, our baby, our little one will graduate from
high school. When I think about it for
more than a few minutes, I start to cry—for joy and for loss of her early days.
That’s it.
Be justice. Be beauty. Be random (as the kids say)
Patrick
