Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: the human condition

June 14, 2021

On being Black in America | Frederick Joseph

Late last week a friend sent me the quote below from Frederick Joseph. She found it at Blavity, which she describes as “an excellent source to learn what is newsworthy to the black community.”

Here’s what Frederick Joseph had to say:

As a Black person in America, I’m tired.
Tired of waking up and not knowing
what new trauma will seep into my bones.
What new video of injustice will be etched into my memory.
What new name will become a hashtag.
Whether I will become a hashtag.

~~~

I don’t know what it’s like to live in black or brown skin. Nonetheless, here’s a first attempt to imagine how it might feel if the new “black or brown” were now “white.”

Feeling my White way along
this unfamiliar path I stop
to consider what it would
take to live for just one day
and one long night in the skin
of a Black person in the USA

Trapped with nowhere else to go
I’m caught in the glare of unsought
publicity turning uglier while the
latest news bulletin breeds fear
in the hearts of women and men
caught on camera in White skins

Newsy chats with experts and officials
don’t calm my racing heart already
sinking beneath words doled out about
future solutions while I want only
the honor of being recognized
today as the Full Citizen I already am

As a white citizen, I know the tug of wanting to keep going based on myths, hopes, dreams and a heavy dose of addiction to sham. We would rather live on tomorrow’s promises that yesterday and today’s reality. So where do we go from here?

I don’t know. However, I’m going to start checking out Blavity. Otherwise, I might miss what’s most important to the very citizens whose lives are routinely in jeopardy.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 June 2021
Photo found at alphanewsmn.com

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June 12, 2021

living water and unread books

Avalanches of living water
and unread books thunder
through the back of my mind
nagging me relentlessly
on my way from here to there

So quickly life morphs
from beauty to sadness,
All contained in one day’s
rather humdrum yet
consequential decisions

Arriving at the next station
I find myself peering into
a garden of stillness that
echoes all things lovely
yet strangely silent in this
living afterworld of old age

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 June 2021
Photo taken by DAFraser at Longwood Gardens, May 2021

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June 9, 2021

Butterfly Wings

Emerging from my cocoon
last night before I slept,
my eyes devour treasure
hidden in cards and notes
scattered among my
now ancient relics

As I read them slowly
a door finally cracks open
to reality larger than life,
despite my deep fear
of failure and a similar yet
heavier fear of success

This morning I wake to
flaws and old age staring
back at me from my mirror,
daring me to forego
daily beautifying rituals
meant to atone for my faults

My heart skips a beat —
not because of this poignant
reflection but because I
finally recognize a glimmer
of butterfly wings
springing from my back

It wasn’t easy growing up in the 1940s and 50s. During and after World War II, severity was called for. This meant daily care of Victory Gardens. Mending and passing along used clothes and shoes. Not wasting anything. And, in my case, full attention to the military-like heaviness of my clergy father’s rules for good girls.

As a clergyman, Dad chose not to be a soldier in Uncle Sam’s army. He believed he was in the only army that mattered — God’s army. Joining Uncle Sam’s army was like deserting God’s army.

I wasn’t the only World War II baby born into a culture of strict rations and homegrown Victory Gardens. Food was often hard to come by. Gardens had to be plowed, planted and weeded. And children, like gardens, also had to be plowed and weeded.

The upshot was simple. No vanity, no wasting time, no over-indulgence. Just noses stuck to the grindstone of everyday recovery from the horrors of World War II. Like other children born into this era, I learned to keep my nose to the grindstone, think of myself as part of a small army of obedient girls and boys, and forget about the fancy stuff our family could never afford.

It made for outstanding work habits. It didn’t make for easy enjoyment of parties or silliness in the workplace. Even worse, it took away the joy of being a young mother.

So there I was yesterday evening, reading cards and notes I’ve kept over the years. Finally acknowledging that I did something beautiful and did, indeed, have great fun from time to time–despite the heaviness of my work ethic.

In fact, I’m having more fun now than I’ve ever had in my life. Thanks to friends and family members who keep showing me how it’s done.

Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 June 2021
Photo found at commons.wikipedia.com

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June 5, 2021

An Invitation

A walk in the late Spring
park of my mind beckons
beyond the open portal
of weary normal days
without wine and blossoming roses

Which will it be
I wonder in a weak attempt
to pretend this is about
a reasoned choice
or serious deliberation

The beauty of yesteryears
calls out from every corner
of my well-laden larder of
memories lying dormant
around and above me

Having already left this
world of visible reality
they invite my hungry heart
to feast at the table of friends
and strangers I never really knew

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 June 20

“Forest Feast” Artwork from Elizabeth Foster
Found at Melissa Shirley Designs, needlenook.com

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June 2, 2021

White Debt in the USA

Walking a tightrope
I ponder yet again
which post to release
into this world of growing
antagonism and planned
chaos dripping silently
into veins as we sleep
our days away thinking
we whites are alive because
we’re awake and breathing

Who are we in this pandemic
of more than Covid-19?

How might we join the struggle
that needs more than any
one person can give or endure?

How can we maintain sanity
while acknowledging our
current insane addiction
to anything that will bring
relief if only for a heartbeat?

Last night I watched Judy Woodruff’s NPR News interview with Professor William Darity, Professor of Economics and African American Studies at Duke University. I highly recommend it.

Near the end of the interview, Professor Darity favors the appointment of a Presidential Commission (rather than a Congressional committee) to study our overall history and current situation. The goal: recommendations that address the enormity of our white debt to citizens of color.

Will we ever be able to make reparations? Not just for Tulsa, but for all the other riots, lynchings, redlining, gerrymandering, gentrifying, food deserts, highway construction through neighborhoods and much much more. That’s still to be determined. On the other hand, we white people might begin by divesting ourselves of habits that ensure our survival. Not just our survival at the cost of other people, but at the cost of our well-oiled niceness and ignorance.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 June 2021
Photo found at pinterest.com

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May 28, 2021

Rita

My unquiet mind
Twisting and turning nonstop
Ponders a mystery

Without a trace
Or signal from anywhere
A friend vanishes

Bare windows stare
Unable to voice answers
To unasked questions

So much of life today is about what I don’t know. Social distancing has broken casual and formal ties to friends and even strangers whose lives intersected mine daily.

A great emptiness has descended, daring me to fill in the blanks. Where did it all go? Why isn’t my beautiful friend Rita out walking her dog every morning and evening? Why doesn’t she answer my email? And why is her phone out of service? I don’t have an answer.

Rita was in her late 80s. She walked her lively little dog Charlie in the park every morning and evening. Then came Covid and social distancing. Before that, besides seeing her in the park, I sometimes went to her place. Never a dull moment! It was all about tea, health, politics, religion, food, and whatever Rita wanted to tell me about her life.

Now my life feels smaller. I’m tormented by memories that are themselves becoming strangers. I want to be born once again. I want a starting point, a middle, and an end. Something that will hang together into a believable story of who we are, who I am, and why all these silences refuse to answer our questions.

The rhododendron at the top is for Rita, wherever she is.

Thanks for stopping by today,
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 May 2021
Photo taken by DAFraser at Longwood Gardens, 24 May 2021

4 Comments
May 26, 2021

On the verge of Summer

Dying more or less
mimics water draining
from the sink–
Sometimes fast
sometimes slow
sometimes with a
fury known only
to the drowning

Looking around I try
to remember what
I just left behind
But cannot

Sooner or later
all will lie silent
waiting for Spring or not,
While here on the verge
of Summer the sun
already boils over
with heat I know
nothing about, having
never visited the furnace
of this new day

Praying this day brings us joy, peace and opportunities to know and appreciate ourselves and others more than we did yesterday.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 May 2020
Painting found at landscapepainter.co.nz

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May 22, 2021

How would you live then? | Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver puts us on the spot with whimsical questions we’ve likely never asked ourselves. My comments follow.

What if a hundred rose-breasted grosbeaks
flew in circles around your head? What if
the mockingbird came into the house with you and
became your advisor? What if
the bees filled your walls with honey and all
you needed to do was ask them and they would fill
the bowl? What if the brook slid downhill just
past your bedroom window so you could listen
to its slow prayers as you fell asleep? What if
the stars began to shout their names, or to run
this way and that way above the clouds? What if
you painted a picture of a tree, and the leaves
began to rustle, and a bird cheerfully sang
from its painted branches? What if you suddenly saw
that the silver of water was brighter than the silver
of money? What if you finally saw
that the sunflowers, turning toward the sun all day
and every day—who knows how, but they do it—were
more precious, more meaningful than gold?

Poem written by Mary Oliver, first published in Blue Iris (2004)
© 2017 by NW Orchard LLC
Published in 2020 by Penguin Books in Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver, p. 167

Prisoners sometimes say what keeps them going is having a room with a view. A room with even a tiny window on a tiny plant or part of a tree branch. Like clock-work, these bits of nature became companions. They signal changing seasons, measure the speed of the wind, announce the time of day, or signal the coming darkness of night. All without a paycheck or a bonus for going the extra mile.

We humans seem glued to electronic devices, out of touch with the Garden our Creator handed over to us. Perhaps even out of touch with each other as precious women, children and men. “More precious, more meaningful than gold.”

I laugh when I read this poem. It’s full of whimsy. The kind that comes from close observation of nature and human nature, which Mary then turns into gold. Who wouldn’t like to see and experience Mary’s unexpected everyday wonders? Perhaps she’s inviting us to slow down and redirect our attention. Life is short.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich  Fraser, 22 May 2021
Photo found at npr.org

7 Comments
May 18, 2021

a one-year old nest

basking in sunshine
beneath snow-white blossoms
a one-year old nest

That’s right, folks. Last autumn’s empty paper wasp nest survived last winter’s harsh reality weather! You can’t see them in this amateur shot through the window, but small wasps are buzzing all around the basket-like nest. Probably checking it out like a relic in a museum!

Will there be another queen and her subjects? I doubt it, even though the nest hasn’t lost any chunks to the ground below. Still, the story isn’t over, and I’m staying tuned.

Yesterday afternoon I finished my part of our 2-week attic books marathon (at least 30 boxes almost ready to go to The Theological Book Network). Then I started on my office.

This time it isn’t about giving things away. It’s about seeing what’s there in the first place. Most of it would count as personal memorabilia. Some needs trashing, and some will go to people who need more stationary or greeting cards (for example).

The best gift of all has been seeing bits of my life in personal notes, cards, photos and letters. Some precious, some OK to let go of, and some I don’t remember keeping at all.

At any rate, yesterday afternoon I had a wonderful teary session with these bits and pieces. Especially pieces I’d forgotten about. Which led me to wonder whether I know myself anymore.

Thanks for stopping by!
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 May 2021
Photo taken by erf, 18 May 2021

16 Comments
May 17, 2021

A personal letter

fraser_s_0238b

~~Mom Elouise and Daughter, 1974, Altadena, California on a Sunday morning

Death and dying are on my mind these days. Not just because of Covid-19, but because of how I’m feeling about my own death, plus regular reports of friends dying or facing end of life decisions. I’ve lightly edited this post from February 2017. 

Today was our adult daughter’s last full day visiting us. Tomorrow she flies back to the West Coast. I’m teary, lethargic, achy, sad, and already lonely.

I’m also feeling the certainty of death these days. Nothing in particular. Just the awareness that every time I see our daughter it might be for the last time. So what do I want to say to her before she leaves?

I lay awake a bit last night thinking about this. Whatever I say, I don’t want to pretend I’m taking life for granted, as though neither of us is going to die just yet. I also don’t want to say simply, “I love you.” Even though I will and I do!

Here’s what I want her to know.

  • I want you to know how honored I am to be your mother, and how much I admire you as a woman. You’re a fighter. A brook-no-nonsense human being. An artist in every way, especially as a musician.
  • You’re an intelligent, gifted woman who knows how to engage others, and when to disengage. An astute political observer. A woman who knows how and when to get help. A survivor of trials and tribulations. A wise observer of human nature and of yourself. A faithful ally and friend.
  • I’m grateful you’re in my life. You’re a touchstone. Sensible and funny. Kind and clear. And you’re my daughter! I still don’t understand how you became the woman you are today. I do know it was “through many dangers, toils and snares….”
  • I gave you to God decades ago, knowing I would never have the answers to all the challenges you would meet. Instead, I pray for you regularly, that God’s grace that has kept you so far will lead you home. No matter whether you go first or I do.

One more thing. I feel old age coming on. Not like a flood, but with slow certainty, accompanied by a number of health issues that challenge me. I don’t want to give up. I want to be fully alive, and alert enough to enjoy my family and friends as long as I can.

Not so many years ago I was afraid to let my heart show to my family members. I was afraid to let them know how much I’ll miss them if they die before I die. Better to stay cool and calm than show my feelings. That way maybe the pain of loss won’t be so great. But that’s another topic.

Thanks for reading and listening with your hearts.
Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 February 2017, reposted 17 May 2021
Photo credit: DAFraser, 1974, Altadena, California

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