My writing has been lagging, my blog posts few. I just could not get back to the page. I’ve been weepy. Enraged. Demanding answers about our political controversies and wondering, “How did we get here?”
One afternoon, I was listening to Joan Baez sing “Brothers in Arms,” an antiwar song. I became distraught again as I remembered my days as a young political activist. How did we get here? The following is one of the recent experiences that has motivated me to write again─ with respect and an open heart.
The woman comes into the church social hall, dressed like she always does. She wears a dark brown coat pulled tightly around her. Is it wool? I’m not sure. She’s been wearing it since the early fall, and it matches the dark brown, unkempt wig she wears. The wig’s ends are stiff and push out from under the brown hat pulled over her head for warmth. She walks timidly as if she’s ashamed to be with us ─ all of us, volunteers and pantry guests alike. Some of us are both.
For more than a year I’ve volunteered at this church food pantry where some sort of alchemy takes place in the social hall. I’ve put my frustration about increased partisan politics aside as I help arrange the tables with vegetables, fruit, baked goods, meat and eggs, and I find myself smiling. Thanks to the generosity of local grocery vendors in our area, this particular food pantry is transformed into a glorious market. There are bouquets of flowers. Loaves of bread. Bread and Roses. When we are done arranging and sorting, the social hall looks amazing.
I watch the brown coat woman grab a cup of coffee. She almost never talks and sits with her eyes directed toward her coffee and snacks. She surprises me by asking, “Is there more sugar and cream?” Of course, there is. The minister makes sure there’s plenty of everything: coffee and tea, sometimes orange juice. A kitchen volunteer assembles platters of cake, cookies, and small fruit as a breakfast snack for the guests.
As I measure coffee and tea into food storage bags, I repeat a prayer for comfort to myself. Coffee, tea and the snacks help some of the guests start their day on a high note and, perhaps, will pull them out of the sadness of their situations.
It’s hard for me to stay angry about American politics in the presence of sacred work. I watch the minister who directs a steady gaze to the eyes of every person she speaks with. She comforts. I am moved by her dedication. To my knowledge, she has never closed the pantry for any reason. Twenty-four inches of snow? There will be food and the pantry will be open. She may be challenged but not daunted. Her mission is to comfort and serve.
There is magic in this community of humanity. Service is a healing balm and a saving grace. For three hours each week, the heartless politicians in Washington who have sought to undermine and destroy the tenets of the United States Constitution become background noise, the least of my worries.
Still, I wonder, “How did we get here?”
As the summer wanes and October brings chillier weather, gold leaves, and rain, I take refuge in the cascade of apples brought to the church. There are enough apples for 100 people to each fill a small bag if he or she wanted. And I feel something. The motivation to write again.
I feel something else, too. Love.
Wherever two or more of us are gathered in the sacred name, serving each other and receiving, I know we’ll be okay. The woman in the brown coat smiles into her cup. We will be okay.
Sala
KINDNESS: THE CROWN OF HUMAN DECENCY
Hi.
It’s been a while. If you’re expecting to see something deep, something about food or family, I’m not doing it today. Well, actually, I’m sorta thinking deeply. I’m thinking about kindness, the crown of human decency.
The news this week has been about Dolly Parton and Tim Curry. Broadcasters and YouTubers are trying to outdo each other with remembrances of Dolly Parton while I feel like most of us have been stunned into silence, that specific kind of silence one experiences when a good person dies. I didn’t know a lot about Tim Curry. My niece’s response to both of them dying on the same day was,
“What is happening?!”
As for me, I was trying to process Dolly Parton’s death. People wanted to know, “Why is a Black woman mourning the death of a White female country singer?” Because she was more than a color or gender or musical genre. I never knew or met her, but I have felt the kindness she brought to this world.
In this time of political insanity, a genuinely kind person and an extraordinary philanthropist felt compelled to use the money God gave her to help millions. She’s gone. I’m sad.
There have been many public figures, men and women, Black and White, Asian and Hispanic, Religious and Secular, whose death blindsided me. But something about Dolly Parton’s death broke me.
Ms. Parton helped save the lives of millions through her donations to Vanderbilt University Medical Center for research of the COVID-19 vaccine. Her Imagination Library has gifted over 300 million books to children around the world. She made public statements about the worth of every human being and stood behind Black Lives Matter after the killing of George Floyd. She gave millions to revitalize a Black Tennessee community. She paid for housing, medical expenses, food and more for people she did not know. Not out of obligation. There was no fanfare or chest beating. She did it quietly and with humility. She did it out of genuine, deeply rooted kindness.
Meanwhile, politicians filled with malice promote meanness and vile, tawdry behavior, and justify merciless violence — killings — while corrupting the messages of diverse scriptures. These demons take away millions of lives.
For a moment, but only a moment, I felt despair. A good soul left this earth while bad ones eat, drink, and live their lives without a thought of one good deed (just say “good morning,” to somebody, damn it!) for another person.
Janis Joplin sang, “Take another little piece of my heart now baby.”
There was a song I listened to as a young girl. Both Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole did covers of this song. The refrain is going ’round and ’round in my head:
“Pick yourself up
Take a deep breath
Dust yourself off
And start all over again.”
I’m takin’ back the pieces of my heart, baby. There’s a piece drenched in empathy, with a tiny sliver set aside for those I consider demons. Another piece carries generosity and the desire to serve. Still another corner is for clarity. The soft, cottony section is for tenderness; it allows me to accept and feel love. And, of course, there is that brilliant Light within that illuminates kindness.
Thank you, Dolly Parton. Your authenticity is a shining example. A reminder to always ask myself: am I being kind?
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Posted in Commentary, Creative Non-Fiction, Empathy, Essay, Kindness, Philosophical rants, Political reflection, Reflection, Writing from the heart
Tagged Dolly Parton, life, music, Political reflection, Writing