"Those who have experienced Paris have advantage over those who have not. We are the ones who have glimpsed a little bit of heaven, down here on earth." - Deirdre Kelly






Showing posts with label Commentaire Diva. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Commentaire Diva. Show all posts

Monday, July 09, 2018

beautiful dreamer...


"Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me..." Stephan C. Foster (1864)

We got word that there was a rally, to protest our U.S. government forcibly separating children from families that illegally cross our Mexican border, and those legally seeking asylum. Of course Mr. G and I went to protest this atrocity, happening in our country. An immoral policy enacted in our name. While the largest rally took place in Chicago, we purposefully attended a rally closest to our little piece of the world. We went to add our voice to a simple but passionate national chorus: "This is evil. Not in our name. Where are the children?" As per usual, I had my camera(s) with me. And while my focus and intent were on participating in the rally, and listening to the poignant featured speakers, the moment and movement were so powerful...

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"Sounds of the rude world. Heard in the day..." - Beautiful Dreamer
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The rally fittingly took place in the Veteran's Memorial Pavilion, Fishel Park (in the heart of Downers Grove, IL); adjacent to a large play ground. The playground was filled with playing, laughing children - even more fitting for this day. By my rough estimate, 1,000 people were in attendance. To be sure a small number, amidst the hundreds of thousands who rallied across the United States. But, to my mind, that made the featured speakers' testimonies all the more personal and salient.



Grace Arimura (right) testified about her experiences of being imprisoned, along with 10 members 
of her Japanese American family in an American Detention Center during World War II. She was 16 years old.



Prevail Bonga (left) read aloud a few of the stories of the 3,000+ forcibly separated immigrant children detainees
before sharing her Congolese family's challenging journey to American citizenship.

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"Whoa, ah, mercy mercy me...Where did all the blue skies go?" - Marvin Gaye (1971)

By now you know, the entire world knows, what's going on...
My United States of America government has forcibly separated immigrant children from their parents (families that illegally crossed our border and families who have come seeking asylum), split siblings apart, put them in detention center cages - before shipping them away from their parents, to points all over America (in the dead of night, in secrecy). Furthermore, my U.S. government has put babies and toddlers in 'Tender Age Detention Centers (detention facilities for children 5 years old and under). National outrage forced the administration to seemingly suspend this despicable policy. Now the this administration is trying to enact policy that allows them to detain children and babies with their families indefinitely (in military based detention tent camps).  

"Poison is the wind that blows from the north and south and east."

But this American horror story doesn't end there. The nearly 3 thousand forcibly separated and detained children, toddlers, and babies have not been reunited with each other, or their parents, and it's become painfully clear that: not only does this administration not have a plan to reunite the families we forcibly separated; they never intended to. They don't know where these children are or even who they are - resorting to DNA testing to try to match children with parents. But we know very little else because this administration is denying entry to these detention centers, refuse to answer even the simplest of questions. And their story changes, sometimes by the hour.
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For nearly two years, our American president has been railing against, scapegoating, demonizing, otherizing, people of color (in voice, action, and policy). That the 35% of Americans, who support trump; love and feed off his racist rhetoric, is no surprise. Nor is it surprising that the Republican party protects and enables his venality in the name of political power. But I really, truly thought that forcibly separating children, toddlers and babies from their parents would be a bridge too far, even for trump's most ardent supporters. Sadly, judging by the vocal and ardent political, pundit and social media commentary in support of this heinous policy, this segment of the American populace is perfectly fine with abusing children in the name of 'strong, defended borders.'  This president's appeal to the darkest, ugliest nature of humanity has successfully and deeply taken root. But, last Saturday, a group of women in Downers Grove,IL, along with millions of other Americans, organized and came together, in every state in our nation to say: "This immoral, evil act is Not America(n). We will not tolerate this inhumane inhumanity, not in our name..." As this atrocity unfolded and continues I've doggedly held onto my belief that we are better than this. On this day we, the people, confirmed it. 


"You may say I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one." - John Lennon



But this battle, that has been forced upon every decent American, has only just begun. Where are the children? We took them, we're responsible for them. Thus we must not, we cannot, stop protesting, contacting our representatives, voting our values, until each and every child is reunited with their families. We will win the day. The alternative is too horrific and unacceptable. So we fight on. Dreamers are we all...


Vivre! Rire! Aimer!
Temple


Thursday, March 15, 2018

#enough


"Bang bang, he shot me down. Bang bang, I hit the ground. Bang bang, that awful sound." - Cher (1966)

Yesterday was the one month anniversary of the Stoneman Douglas High School massacre (Parkland). In remembrance, along with tens of thousands of high school teenagers around the country, my children's high school held a symbolic 17 minute walkout: one minute for each student and teacher murdered on Valentines Day: 
"1,000 students walked out of our school today. They gathered on the football field, wore orange shirts, released 17 orange balloons, one ballon at a time, then remained silent for 17 minutes to remember the 17 victims that were killed a month ago during the violent school shooting. These kids were supposed to be in their classrooms studying, but instead, they walked out of their classrooms to do the things we as grown ups are supposed to do for them." - C.L. 


But the day was about so much more than rightly honoring the fallen. It was also about children being afraid, frustrated and angry that the daily threat of gun violence and death (in their classrooms, on their campuses, on their streets) is an ever present reality in their young lives. It was about children being fed up, sick and tired of adults not being able to get over their ideologies, political jockeying, and partisan bullshit long enough to actually get something done, do something -anything- to confront, decisively and effectively deal with the fact that, in comparison to every other 'First World' country and most 'Third World' countries (not involved in a war) the United States ranks 1st in gun violence/deaths.  


So, after the school sanctioned walkout ended, 300+ students (and about a dozen parents) decided to continue their peaceful protest. They orderly and quietly walked off campus to a busy intersection, about 1.5 miles away. While they were marching, several students called me, asked if I'd come and photograph this moment of their national movement. To capture and share their simple message: #Enough.


"You will not be able to stay home, brother."


"You will not be able to plug in, turn on and drop out."


"You will not be able to lose yourself in skag and skip, skip out for beer and commercials."


"The revolution will not be brought to you...in four parts without commercial interruption."

"The revolution will not be back after a message."



"Because the revolution will not be televised." -Gil Scott-Heron (1971)

Do I mean 'revolution' in the conventional sense, or in the sentiment of the controversial parts of the Heron poem I used selective quotes from? Of course not. As I was taking photographs, listening to the poignant student speakers, speaking with the teenagers assembled, the salient portions of the Heron poem resounded: these children (and children across this nation) are no longer willing to sit back and trust that adults will deal with the pervasive threat of gun violence in their schools - they've patiently waited long #enough. Nor will they allow politicians and pundits to appropriate and/or shape their message of palpable fear and frustration with continued pearl clutching and inaction. #Enough. They are asking, begging, for our help. They just want to be kids. They just want to be safe. And they are going to walkout, march, speak up and out, be politically active, and media savvy until then. They have decided to be the change they have been waiting for.


"Listen to their speeches, they expressed their fear about whether or not they can be safe anymore in school or anywhere. They [are] scared, frustrated and angry. They were not doing it for show, they were doing it hoping we grown ups will listen and care. Being there to support them was the least we could do as parents. Their voice[s] and signs were loud and clear. The reaction from strangers [driving by] was amazing! Someday, some of these kids are going to do amazing things for this country!" - C.L.


Vivre! Rire! Aimer!
Temple



Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Daadi, in memoriam...


"To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die." 
- Thomas Campbell

The world has lost so many wonderful talented people in 2016: from Muhammad Ali, Glenn Frye and Natalie Cole to David Bowie, Prince, George Michael - and yesterday, Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia). We are saddened, by the passing of these amazing people - and look back on their truly outstanding contributions to the world - and it is fitting that we do so. But tonight, as I was sharing my grief with my fellow friends on social media, a post popped up - a nine year memoriam to a dear friend's Daadi. And it affected me like none of the others have...

Across the street, eight doors down, lives a three-generation-South East Asian-American family. For more than a decade, the family's matriarch-Daadi (grandmother) would take a twilight  constitutional stroll - always wearing a simple but so lovely Sari. She'd sit and rest on the large rock, directly across the street from my house. And every twilight, for ten+ years, we'd smile and wave at each other before she got up and turned for home. To this day I can't explain why but seeing Daadi, every twilight, smiling and waving was my personal sign that all was right with the world.

One Twilight, the summer after our daughter was born, Daadi walked all the way around our cul du sac to our driveway - she had never done that before - bent down, laid her hands on my daughter's tiny head, blessed my baby, then went abut her way. Two years of twilights later, on the day of our son's memorial, Daadi found me sitting on 'her' rock crying. She hugged me, placed her hands on my head and prayed over me. I had no idea what she was saying but her gentle touch and voice brought me calm and such peace. From the first time I witnessed her twilight stroll to her last, I know that this lovely woman impacted her tiny slice of the world, and all those around her, as grandly as any famous person ever could. Thus, as this year comes to an end, I offer an in memoriam for Daadi Katwala.

Vivre! Rire! Aimer!

Temple

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Celebrate Life!


"Life is a celebration. 
Lord I'm gonna celebrate.
Life is a celebration. 
So come on now and celebrate, celebrate.
Life is a celebration. Look it's a revelation.
So celebrate now. Celebrate life!"
- Rick Springfield

Our glorious friends - Matt & Neal - again hosted a weekend long celebration of Mr. G's birthday; in their stunning treehouse at the edge of Lake Michigan. The guest list: 3 married couples, 2 French Bulldogs, a Min-Pin and a Coco. We made our plans months ago. Little did we know then that our gathering would occur six days after Orlando. What to do, in the wake of unspeakable hate? It wasn't even a question; not really. We chose to celebrate love, celebrate life...

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Orlando













"But I don't understand! I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she's, there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore! It's stupid! It's mortal and stupid! And, and Xander's crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well Joyce will never have any more fruit punch, ever, and she'll never have eggs, or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why." 
– Anya, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
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I've been following the media coverage of the horrific, brutal and devastatingly sad massacre in Orlando, the FaceBook comments (loving and hateful), and the outpouring of grief, support, grace and love from countless many. I needed time to process this overwhelming wave of murderous hate and debated for half a second if I would post about it. But, ya'll know me.
I have been an LGBT ally for my entire life (thanks to my now 87 year old mother, who led by love, word and example - thanks mommy): the best man at my parents' wedding, my babysitter [for most of my and my sister's childhood(s)], many of my parents' closest friends - who loved and helped raise my sister and I - were/are LGBT. I grew up in Boy's Town, Chicago (lived there for 20+ wonderful years). A community that fully, freely and with open arms welcomed my interracial family and (years later) a lanky pimply faced Black girl and the tall, skinny, equally pimply faced Mr. G white boy she fell head over heels in love with. I am proud to have LGBT people as students, colleagues, beloved friends and family members.
I send my heart and love; prayers of grace, peace and solidarity to the slain men and women of Orlando - and to their parents, siblings and families; their husbands, wives, partners, lovers and friends.
I've been listening/reading the need by some to obfuscate, ignore and/or totally lie about the fact that this was a hate crime - specifically leveled at the LBGT community; debates about gun-control, the Islamic-terrorist threat, etc. But all I can see/focus on is that nearly 50 lives, fellow human beings - were targeted, murdered; and another 50 survived by the hair of their chinny chin chins. The political and socio-cultural bullshit fades so far away in the face of the fact that these beautiful precious individual people will never again enjoy fruit punch, or eggs, or yawn or brush their hair - not ever, and no one will explain to me, why...





Sunday, August 16, 2015

the righteous mighty...


14 January 1940-15 August 2015

American social activist, leader of the Civil Rights Movement, politician, professor, writer, 
one of the righteous mighty.

23 March 1963, Atlanta, Georgia

They organized, lobbied, boycotted, walked, marched, sat-in. They fought for the rights(s) of full citizenship; risking life, limb and simple comfort - for us. All of us. And though they were beaten, jailed and killed, they would not be moved. They changed the world. And I am so grateful. There are so few of the righteous mighty left. Now there is one less.

Temple

Thursday, June 25, 2015

cherries, a bowl full


"Life is just a bowl of cherries.
So live and laugh, aha!
Laugh and love at it all!"
- Ethel Merman, 1931

 Mr. Gorgeous and I are all about our life - our children. Our three are damn fantastic, so it's not a hardship by any stretch of the imagination. But that also means that, while we always make time for each other, those slices of time away are pretty thin (we haven't spent a night away from them since 2012). 

The glorious Matt & Neal

"To be rich in friends is to be poor in nothing." 
- Lilian Whiting

With Mr. G's birthday fast approaching, I began to scheme, plot and plan to kidnap him for a weekend (by 'weekend' I mean 2 days and 1 night). Our dear friends - Matt & Neal - were my co-conspirators. And they knew the perfect place - their treehouse on the shores of Lake Michigan. Yeah, these gents know how to live! We packed a bag, kissed mom and the kids, grabbed Coco, put the top down, and hit the road.

The trip took 1 1/2 hours. The weather was so beautiful - balmy, sunny, a cool sweet breeze, just the two of us and a Coco. And as the miles went by, little by little, we left the hustle and bustle behind  and drove into the quiet, the wind, the green. 



^From a six-lane concrete expressway, 
to a four-lane asphalt highway, 
to a two lane tree-lined road. 


^Matt filled the house with stunning Peonies.
Their sweet fragrance filled every room.


^After we changed into our swimsuits 
it was time to hit the beach. Our chariot awaited.


^The road to Shangri-La



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"A simple life is good with me...
a T-shirt, a pair of shorts, barefoot on the beach
and I'm happy." - Yanni
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After sunset: dinner by candlelight, music, dancing, birthday cake...



Happy Birthday, beloved



The next day, after a Bloody Mary brunch, back to the beach...



^Coco leads the way...


The perfect spot to work the New York Times Crossword


During the last hour of my romantic birthday getaway with Mr. G, we walked the beach, holding hands, Coco happily trailing behind. It was...perfect. Thank you so much Matt & Neal for sharing your treehouse, for being our friends. 

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"You have two lives. The second one begins
when you realize you only have one."
- Confucius
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Sometimes (maybe often times) this world can be a scary place, with people who espouse and do hateful terrible things. But I truly believe that the vast majority of us who inhabit this beautiful Earth are kind and good. And we are the lucky ones. We gain strength and sustenance from those who love us and by giving in kind to those we love. We find joy in the simplest of things - a 7th grade basketball game, birthday cake, a drive through the countryside, time with friends, a good meal, the bubbles in a glass of champagne, the grit of sand between our toes. And the accumulated positive karmic weight of these simple things, by their very existence, and our insistence that these things continue to exist, change our world for the better - and always will. 

As we drove back down that two-lane treelined road, ready and eager to return to our three, the hustle and bustle, I thought: yeah, I'll take this life, love it. Because, even with the pits, life is just a bowl of cherries. 

Vivre! Rire! Aimer!

Temple

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