Editorial

There’s a lot of focus on teaching kids about bullying. There are laws against bullying. No name-calling weeks in schools. We urge kids not to be intimidated.

It was one of those great Sonoma County spring mornings. Sun shining, wind blowing. Pollen – and hope – in the air. I walked out on my veranda overlooking the nine-hole golf course I recently completed. I relaxed, with mimosa in hand, while watching the kids frolic on the water slide they crafted for a science fair project at school (using only recycled water from our indoor waterfall) and smiled knowing that my family is set financially for the rest of our lives, and my children will be attending the finest colleges in the land with perhaps some overseas study to broaden their understanding and appreciation of different cultures.

It’s no surprise that young adults increasingly support gay marriage and think it’s just fine for two moms to have kids. Young people grew up with gay friends. They could have a gay stepbrother or a lesbian minister.

My wife Bonnie and I recently went to the de Young Museum to see the Vermeer (1632 - 1675) exhibit on loan from the Mauritshuis in The Hague. The Exhibit is called “The Girl with the Pearl Earring” after what is perhaps Vermeer’s best known work. The girl turns to look at us over her left shoulder and as she turns our gaze is drawn to the single pearl on the lobe of her lovely ear. A text describes the painting as the Dutch “Mona Lisa.” The exhibit reveals a world of mostly prosperous looking men and women. Self assured, Protestant, one might even say secular. They are a class of people absent from earlier times, the early Renaissance and the Middle Ages. They are neither prelates (there is one painting of a preacher in the exhibit), nor princes, and they are certainly not peasants. They are burghers and their families, men of commerce, trade and industry; and they read and write. There is a charming, domestic scene of a woman, seated comfortably at a desk in her own home. She is writing, maybe a personal letter, maybe household accounts, but the point is she is writing, something that a few hundred years earlier few other than clergy were able to do.

For the last 15 years, I have been a volunteer in prisons, teaching convicted felons in the field of sociology and running self-help groups. Most of my students are “lifers,” men who have been convicted of serious crimes like murder, rape, or burglary for which they have received sentences of 15 years to life and much more. None of them are on death row, and most are now eligible for parole, having served their minimum sentences. Often, they have served far longer.

In the film “To Kill a Mockingbird” Gregory Peck explains the legacy of pocket watches passed on from father to son, and I thought how unlikely it will be that someone inherits a smart phone inscribed, “with love to my darling Atticus.”

When Gabby Giffords took on the NRA she challenged her former colleagues in Congress to do the same, saying, “Be bold. Be courageous.” Only Giffords and those closest to her know how much guts it takes for someone whose body, speech and career were forever altered by a bullet to the brain to throw herself into the  bitter debate on gun control and dare her old political pals to be brave like her.  

In 1985 there were over 350,000 cases of paralytic polio in the world. These were basically all in third world countries, as polio had been eradicated, due to immunization, in the United States and Europe and Asia in the 1970s. For the young people who do not know what polio can do, as it is no longer a threat here, it is a virus that can cause permanent paralysis of major muscle groups, including respiratory muscles leading to death.

I was avoiding Amour, the movie. I’d seen enough previews to know the story line and it frightened me. For a while I was saying I’d sooner see a Die Hard movie than Amour. And I’d have to be dragged to one of those brutal movies. And then sit through most of it with my eyes closed and then rant about Hollywood glorifying violence.

When their oppressors fled, the people of Mali danced. The African women wrapped themselves in bright colors, some even bared their bellies, and they got out into the street and shimmied. How sweet, freedom. It makes you want to dance.