Thoughts on “Nappy Headed Hos”

It’s been in the news all week and it’s hardly a surprise but America can no longer listen to Don Imus refer to the Rutgers womens’ basketball team as “nappy headed hos.” I’ve only listened to quick snatches of his show as I can’t listen to him for long and I for one will not miss him.

But he raises an interesting issue on the state of racism in this country. First, let’s put to bed forever the “I am not a racist” plea. If he weren’t a racist at some level it never would have occurred to him to use that phrase. This dismissive characterization of the women on the team really does show that Imus thinks of all black women that way. But on a deeper and more disturbing level, Imus has been popular because he’s been a voice for the racism in the country. Like Trent Lott and countless others before him, Imus has been able to get away with statements like this because nobody else was listening. If his words had been directed at a more general audience he’d still have his show. By personalizing this in narrowing his attack to the Rutgers womens’ basketball team Imus crossed a line. Suddenly the “nappy headed hos” weren’t all black women, it was Coach Stringer and her players: Katie Adams, Matee Ajavon, Essence Carson, Dee Dee Jernigan, Rashidat Junaid, Myia McCurdy, Epiphanny Prince, Judith Brittany Ray, Kia Vaughn, and Heather Zurich.

The true mark of progress in this country won’t be when people like Don Imus are fired because of the outcry, it will be when people like Don Imus aren’t on the air because nobody is listening to him.

Remembering Kurt

We received word today about the death of author Kurt Vonnegut. Most people my age (ie, late boomers) know the name and many of us actually read his work. When I was in high school I read Slaughterhouse Five (or the Children’s Crusade) and later Cat’s Cradle. Kurt had a fairly dark view of the world that fit with me back in high school. He was a German POW and witnessed the carpetbombing of Dresden in 1945. I’d say that gives him street cred to be dark. I may go back and re-read Slaughterhouse Five. A few years ago through hospice I met someone who went to high school with Kurt; I’m sorry Kurt and I never met. Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time…

A Happy Homecoming

On my post for March 2nd I wrote about Rob, the husband of my coworker Lili. He is in the Navy and was in Afghanistan in late February when he came down with some kind of massive infection. He was pretty critical for a while and we weren’t sure there would be a happy ending. The combination of hard work, the dedication of many people, and the prayers of many more, Rob is now home. Yesterday Rob dropped by our team meeting; there are no words to describe how good it was to see him. Lili also gave me a magnet and a bumper sticker she picked up at Union Station in Washington DC that said this:

  • Tank of Gas: $100
  • Prescription Refill: $500
  • Cost of the War in Iraq: $300,000,000,000
  • New President in 2009: PRICELESS

Welcome home Rob. We’re still praying for you.

When she was born, William Howard Taft was President…

I got a call over the weekend from my mother about Aunt Aldea. Aunt Aldea is the younger sister of my maternal grandmother and is the last of her generation. She was born in December 1910 and is still with us. The last few years have not been a friend to her as she is now living in a nursing home; she lives with congestive heart failure (CHF), renal (kidney) failure, anorexia, and arteriosclerosis. Because of the limited blood flow she has a necrotic toe that will turn into gangrene if not treated. If it hasn’t happened already a vascular surgeon will examine her to see what can be done. As someone who has worked for hospice for over 9 years, my response is for the love of God, let her go but I’m not the one who decides. The doctors are having a hard time with her because even the tests they want to do are too invasive for her, but they hope to have a plan later in the week.

Aunt Aldea’s husband (Uncle Bill) died on January 9, 1981. Between his death and funeral Aunt Aldea made a dress for her to wear at the funeral. This says as much about her as anything. It’s hard to hear that such a strong woman is going through this, and I pray she passes with dignity and peace. You can see pictures of her here and here.

Reflections on the Empty Tomb

I’m writing this on the evening of Easter Sunday. We celebrated Easter at church last night; the mass began at 10PM and ended this morning a little before 1AM. This Lent has been difficult for me in that I haven’t been able to get a handle on it. At the beginning of the mass as I watched the lighting of the fire I realized that perhaps that was the point. We see Lent through the eyes of Jesus and the 40 days he spent in the desert before his entry into Jerusalem; during that time he was presented with certain temptations (presumably including the temptation to forget the whole thing and fade into obscurity). In a sense to try to “do Lent” is to miss the point. The inability to control my experience of Lent became for me exactly the desert experience it was supposed to be.

The most poignant part of the mass for me was the beginning. The Easter fire was lit at 10PM and the image of light out of darkness was clear. As I watched the fire I thought that the mystery of Easter is …. well, a mystery. OK, I know that sounds like a horrible cliché but we (I) spend so much time trying to understand what is simply to be believed in all of its shrouding. Jesus died, rose from the dead, and has promised that same resurrection for us all. I don’t know what that means, and I work in a profession where I can’t count the number of people I’ve seen die. I believe what I believe not because it makes sense, but because it doesn’t make sense. More later…

If you’re not outraged you’re not paying attention

I read an article a few days ago and this is the first chance I’ve had to talk about it. Our local newspaper The San Diego Union-Tribune ran an article yesterday on what happens to the remains of our fallen troops when they are returned to the United States. It tells the story of Army SPC. Matthew Holley who was killed November 15, 2005 in Iraq. When his body was flown back to San Diego his parents found that most of those killed are placed in the cargo area of commercial planes. On arrival back home the caskets are moved by forklift to a cargo warehouse where the family can pick them up. There are no words to describe the lack of dignity here and Matthew’s father John has been working with local Congressman Duncan Hunter to pass the Holley provision. It mandates that these fallen men and women are transported home by military aircraft and are met by a military honor guard. The honor guard will escort the casket from the plane to the mortuary. I’m grateful that they are finally being given the dignity they deserve, but who in God’s sake thought that flying them home in cargo holds and unloading them by forklift was acceptable?. This is (for me) just one more example of this administration’s hubris. They have created a climate where they believe they can do what they wish and nobody will question it. Using commercial aircraft and forklifts are cheaper than military escort and it allows them to fight “on the cheap,” much like the ongoing rape of the VA budget. It also shows once again that if you are no longer useful, you no longer exist.

…but our torture is OK because we’re doing it and we’re the good guys

This past week 15 British sailors were released from Iran after being captured (kidnapped) in Iraqi waters on March 23rd. During their capture several of them appeared on videotape admitting they were in Iranian waters and their capture (kidnapping) was justified. Now that they have been released they admitted they “confessed” under duress. They were isolated from each other, aggressively questioned, and subjected to what one of them called psychological intimidation. They were routinely told that they would be released if the confessed, otherwise would serve 7 years in an Iranian prison. At one point they were blindfolded and liked up against a wall; they believed they were about to be shot. They are receiving some criticism for “confessing” to crimes they didn’t commit, but to be honest I don’t blame them at all. I’ve led a pretty sheltered life and I can’t imagine enduring something like that. I’m grateful they are home.

But this raises a troubling issue for me: how do we as Americans decry the treatment these sailors endured while not acknowledging what is going on in Guantanamo? As a reminder, here are a few of the techniques used by our government (in our name) as a way of gaining information against people who have never been convicted of a crime or even had their day in court:

  • Sleep deprivation
  • Forcing the person to stand or kneel for hours at a time (try this yourself)
  • Force feeding prisoners on hunger strike (ie, forcing feeding tubes down their throat without analgesics; this caused some of them to vomit blood)
  • Waterboarding (strapping someone to a board and pouring water on them or dunking them; this gives the impression of drowning)

In 2002 the Department of Justice sent a memo claiming that interrogation techniques are not considered torture unless they are “equivalent in intensity to the pain accompanying serious physical injury, such as organ failure, impairment of bodily function, or even death.” This allows not only waterboarding, but also mock executions and the like. If the British sailors made false confessions under the conditions they were subjected to in Iran, how can we trust confessions made by prisoners in Guantanamo who undergo much for stressful techniques for much longer (Guantanamo was opened in 2002 for enemy combatants; some of the current prisoners have been there since the beginning).

Remembering Martin

It was 39 years ago today that Dr. King was assassinated on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. Tennessee. I lived in Memphis in 1994 and could walk from my home to the motel. After the assassination the motel continued to operate for several years; by the time I lived there it was vacant. It’s now the Civil Rights Museum and a must see on any trip to Memphis (after Graceland of course).

More Thoughts on Easter and the Empty Tomb

A few days ago I wrote about some of my unease over Easter both in its meaning and how it is celebrated. I’ve been thinking more about this. Certainly a large part of this is unease over how it is celebrated. I’ve never been a big fan of the “more is better” school of liturgy; our Easter Vigil celebration this year begins Saturday night at 10PM and will almost certainly last until the wee hours of Sunday morning. Typically parishes pick only the best readers to read, the choir sings the most complex and difficult music, and nearly everything gets thrown into the mix. Also, everyone who has been journeying to join the Catholic Church (through a process called the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, or RCIA) is welcomed into the church that evening. We are blessed, as always, with a large group.

But that said, where does an empty tomb on a quiet morning with a few grieving friends fit? Certainly we celebrate an empty tomb only because it lacks what it was supposed to contain: the body of Jesus. But how did we go from that nothingness to this celebration of everything-ness? Can we find a way to celebrate the stillness of that morning? Is there away to allow the quiet to speak for itself? Unfortunately that quiet has been much of the penitential nature of Lent, the season that is closing.

In fairness I see the burst of excitement and energy that comes with the recognition that even death could not defeat Jesus, and that our worst fear has turned into our greatest joy. Perhaps Easter would be easier for me if I saw that the day after Easter wasn’t much the same as the day before. Jesus preached that he would rise from the dead and give eternal life to everyone but he also preached a Kingdom where the hungry would be fed and the enslaved would be freed. I wish I saw more of that. A few days ago on Andrew Sullivan’s blog a reader wrote in to talk about how upsetting it was to listen to the account of the Passion knowing that we continue the torture of “enemy combatants” in the same way that Jesus was tortured. That puts us on the same plane as the Roman soldiers. Well, enough for now.

Remembering and Celebrating Lives

Yesterday I neglected to recall that it was the 2nd anniversary of the death of Pope John Paul II (1920-2005). He and I didn’t agree on everything but he was a larger than life presence in the Church and I doubt if I’ll ever see a Pope who served as long (over 26 years) or had as much of an impact on the world. Today is also the anniversary of the death of my grandmother, Emma Allain (1887-1988). She was a woman of deep faith and it was appropriate that she died on Easter Sunday. She was 73 when I was born and the whole time I knew her she was almost blind; it prevented her from reading but always had her rosary with her. You can see her wedding picture from 1918.