Toward the Beloved Community....

It is a vitality, in short, which allows you to believe,

to act on the belief, that it is your country, and

your responsibility to your country is to free it,

and to free it you have to change it.

- James Baldwin, "What Price Freedom?"

in Randall Kenan, ed.,

The Cross of Redemption (2010)

Whenever life seems so/too challenging, I find myself retreating back into my twin safe harbors and in their succor I find the strength and courage to re-emerge to fight the battle anew.  This realization has dawned slowly, something that I appreciated dimly a decade or two ago but that blazes bright now.  My twin safe harbors are the wisdom, inspiration and profundity of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and James Baldwin.  The latter inflames me with both a clarity of grievance and a spirit of contest while the former grounds me in the oh so difficult need to channel this effort of redress in a proactively engaged, non-violent and, even harder, loving way.

As I survey what intuitively strikes me as the decline of the American civilization, I feel the need for their succor right now ... and I am mindful that despite the difficulty, I am called to contest for right by taking the much harder high road, as challenging as that may be.

So, I've picked up King again and begun to read and be re-educated and inspired.  And I've picked up Baldwin again to be called to be more incisively observant and trenchantly expressive.  So here goes....

I really do believe that we are experiencing the end of the American Era, led by a person so unworthy that I cannot speak his name.  He is the living embodiment of virtually all of the -isms that continue to plague our country and, as such, is indeed the Ugly American.  And yet he's less to blame than we are: it is us who elected him and gave him the most powerful role in the world without his having any meaningful preparation (and yet somehow we're still serially surprised and appalled that he continues to manifest our fears in an ever-devolving way...).

Now, I know that some of you will object by saying that 'we' didn't elect him, but we - as in all of us - did: he won the Electoral College, which has been a part of our electoral system for eons.  That it's malfunctioned harmfully a couple of times in this century is just a reminder that we've tolerated it and exposed ourselves to this risk for too long.  No, I didn't vote for him, nor, I suspect, did most of you who will ever read this piece ... but he did garner enough votes in the right places to win the election, which makes him the legitimate POTUS even if he's not legitimately qualified to be so and reminds us of this in ever demoralizing ways every day.

Until we rise up to change our system - knowing as we have for centuries that the Electoral College was a mechanism tinged in human bondage - then we cannot complain about it when it doesn't work the way some of us want.  As with the rest of life, you can't support something as long as it works for you and then decry it when it doesn't.

And reforming our electoral system - or making any other meaningful and needed change - won't be easy in this age of Citizens United, gerrymandering, resurgent inhumanity and willful ignorance.

As I reflect on this reality, I am less angered than awed by it, made weary by the contemplation of the road ahead ... and then angered again because it feels like so many of the battles to be fought were won years ago and undone by the cravenly powerful during my lifetime/on our watch.

So back to King and Baldwin I go....

In The Radical King, Cornell West's finely curated survey of MLK's prophecy, I am reminded again of one of the signs of our demise: as much as we supposedly venerate the man - including by having his birthday become a national holiday - even more than this we eviscerate his message.  In a word, Dr. King's been whitewashed in modern America, hailed as a hero for contesting injustice in our past and then left there, as if our collective and purposeful forgetting justifies the lie that his message isn't even more urgent in this - and every - day.

MLK's day isn't past, our collective will to seek justice is....

And in all of its forms: political, electoral, economic, ecumenical, etc.  Frankly, we allowed ourselves to become horrified - mostly from the comfort of our couches on the sidelines of the fray - as meaningful victories were overturned in the courts, which were once our place of solace and deliverance but have lately become yet another of our oppressors far too frequently.  Think about it: we've seen the Voting Rights Act gutted with SCOTUS's endorsement in an age where an all too real and craven voter suppression effort has disenfranchised millions in both the South and the North.

Did we march and advocate and resist when this occurred?  A bit, but, honestly, not much.  And years later, after other previously unimaginable losses - like the appalling Citizens United ruling - we seem surprised that our predicament is so utterly bad.  Really?!?  Truth be told, we were tired of fighting and have now come to understand the ultimate cost of our lack of vigilance over time: to be ruled, as Plato pointed out in his timeless Republic, by "someone worse" than ourselves.  Apparently, we now realize (much too late), citizenship is a continuous contact sport....

And the forces of evil have become so much stronger, right?  Actually, no.  Emboldened by their string of significant victories of late, they're just less covert.

There has always been class warfare in our society, but only now are the (largely) 'Publicans in Congress unashamed to be so transparent in doing the plutocrats' - and only their - bidding.  How else can one describe either of the two travesties of proposed tax 'reform' bills currently on the Hill?  When many if not most in the middle class will actually see their federal taxes rise as those of the plutocrats plummet and teachers can no longer deduct the supplies that they shouldn't have to buy for their kids in the first place but the privileged will get a break for garaging their private jets, you know something is seriously, abominably wrong.

And racists have always been here in our society - even after the modest gains of the civil rights era - but with an equivocator in chief to encourage them, they now feel free to let the rest of us know that we're the problem.  That they can be so blinded by race-based hate not to be able to see that the puppeteers who've pulled the strings in ways that have materially damaged not only their lives in the short run but their life prospects in the long run look just like them and not the other oppressed folks who are the target of their often deadly ire is one of the most damningly inconceivable and enduring facets of our current demise.

And the list of sexual harrassers runs throughout history.  The real surprise is why we are surprised: we elected an acknowledged harrasser to lead us and we're shocked by the revelation that there are more - many, many more - in positions of power who're being outed now?  Really?!?  More like we were willing to tolerate 'a little hanky panky' 'cause it's better than in the old days only to find out that it hasn't been better and that, en masse, actual lives have been scarred, maimed and in some tragic cases ended by the abuse.  (Pogo proven damningly right yet again.)

Etc.

And yet the Reverend King insists that, as Jesus commanded, I/we must love those who oppress us and be willing to continue to suffer - and likely suffer even more as we resist and advocate forcefully for a new more inclusive and equitable order - and seek to transform them through soul force rather than physical force.

Even though I want to call "Bullshit!" on this quite forcefully, in my heart of hearts I know that he's right: in what universe can the dispossessed ever topple the mighty by practicing violence against those who control the largest cache of weapons known to mankind?  Sure, it feels good - empowering, even (at least in theory) - to say that we'll arm and protect ourselves, but, in reality, we'll never have enough guns to withstand the collective power of law enforcement and the military ... which is something that our fringe Alt-Right brothers haven't quite seemed to be able to figure out either.

(And if we need any more proof, let's reflect on the lesson of the Black Panther Party: no, the powers that be didn't like it that they were actually serving the community in ways that the government was not but should have been, but the pretext that allowed the latter to exterminate them was the former's embrace of guns, supposedly in the context of self-defense.  Funny, but a government sniper can't tell if you're brandishing your rifle for self-defense or armed overthrow of the established order, but s/he can use this as a reason to keep blasting until the question is no longer relevant.  Let's face it folks, an armed revolution it will not and cannot ever be.)

So, nonviolently forward we go, but utilizing every arrow in our quiver consistently and forcefully, especially those that didn't exist in MLK's day, like Social Media.  If a better world really is important to us, then we need to advocate proactively, both by engaging with and demanding more from our elected leaders as well as holding them accountable by voting.  Simply put, there is no excuse for not exercising the right to vote that was so dearly won a half-century ago and has been under siege ever since: voting will take you an hour or two a year (or perhaps significantly longer in areas where the suppression is much stronger [and thus even more in need of redress]), but the consequences of failing to do so last for years and sometimes decades.  Think of what 45 has the legitimate right to do to our judiciary (with an obeisant Congress's support, of course): it'll be decades before some of these 'justices' age out of our system, which will give them a long, long time to continue to stack the deck in favor of the powerful.

So, in addition to advocating - actually getting to know our elected representatives, but, more importantly, having them get to know us individually and collectively - and voting, we need to protest, to show up in the streets (nonviolently, of course) and in the media - including and especially now, social media - and let our legitimate demands be known.  And then go and back this up at the polls so that we create a positive virtuous cycle in our civic life.

The one thing that money can't buy in politics is the ability to overcome a fully engaged electorate.  Hillary Clinton didn't only lose because of the Electoral Collage, she also lost because too many ostensible supporters - or, at least, those whose interests were more aligned with her platform than her opponent's - stayed home.  As true as it is that 70,000 additional votes in three key states could have created a different (and, almost objectively now, better) outcome, the real travesty was that only 60% of our fellow citizens chose to vote in this clearly watershed election.  (I'm guessing that there are a lot of grumblers in that 40% who have absolutely no legitimate claim to do so.)  Yes, the Right's fraudulent advertising can influence some of the electorate, but it can't keep them all from showing up at the polls.  That's the unbeatable strategy: to show up and vote while we still can.

But I digress (again).

And if we are compelled to engage and advocate in a non-violent way, what should we seek?  In a phrase, a more equitable and inclusive society.  Achieving this would actually Make America Great for the First Time, as it would be the debut of our actually living up to our professed creeds - in which we espouse equality of humanity and of access to opportunity - for all of our fellow citizens.

We need a free, equitable and more inclusive society so that all of our interests and needs can be reflected in our public policy, both at the national and local levels.  And we need to be hyper-vigilant in our resisting until we achieve this - all of this - as tempting as it is to dial it back a notch or two after significant gains.

From this vantage point and at this time when the forces of evil seem ascendant, this looks like fantasy, but it's not.  Our history teaches us this: but for the NAACP, there would never have been a Brown v. Board decision in 1954, which led to Emmett Till's heinous murder, which, in turn, led forces to coalesce to protest this travesty that served as the core of the Civil Rights Movement.

So, today, Black Lives Matter has coalesced to protest the unconscionable and unpunished killing of unarmed African-Americans at the hands of the police across this country as the Women's March did to protest the candidacy and election of a sexual predator, which have helped to foment an even broader resistance.  Let these be the core of an ever-widening, more inclusive Resistance, focused on making real our country's claims to egalitarianism.

I think of it as the coalescence of a Radical Humanist Movement (or, in King-ian terms, the Beloved Community), one in which one's humanity is the only thing that matters - and thus must be respected - and the other circumstances of your life, while they should be appreciated and celebrated to a point, must never be allowed to reduce the acknowledgement of you cardinal worth.  It doesn't matter if you're Black, Brown, female, LBGTQ, atheist, Christian, Muslim, immigrant, poor, whatever: it matters that you're a fellow human being - in my eyes, a fellow Child of God, but, again, I realize that some may not choose this designation for themselves and also that it's their choice that matters - and therefore you are entitled to be treated as such and to have access to the opportunities that flow from (constructive) participation in our society, period.

And as we fight for the full rights of all, we must be as incisive as Baldwin in assessing our situation and as trenchant in advocating for ourselves and in contesting the defenders of the (inequitable) status quo.  In other words, like our beloved Jimmy, we must insist on the right to criticize our country perpetually when in fails to live up to its professed creeds because we love it and will endeavor to make it better.  But, like Baldwin, we'll call out evil clearly ... and then organize, protest and advocate to contest and overcome it.

To return to where this began, as much as I lament us having lost our way in so many facets of our collective life, I do believe that the American Experiment can be reformulated anew and continue in an ever more powerfully positively influential way in the future ... but it'll require a revolution of values (as MLK pointed out), where, to borrow the phrase from the passionate and piercingly insightful Rev. Dr. Obery Hendricks, we treat the people's needs as holy (which presumes that we focus on all of the people and endeavor in good faith to find a solution that works as well as possible for the greatest number of us [and then seek to ameliorate any unfortunately disabling side effects for any who are harmed]).  In other words, we must endeavor ever to be equitable and to ground our efforts in good faith as we do so, realizing that achieving a reasonable balance is itself a challenge in our wonderfully but fully diverse society and, indeed, world.

Along the way we can be both guided and chided by MLK and Baldwin, whose legacies of love, insight and advocacy are evergreen as well as ever more relevant to us today.  So I'll reclaim the radical King - the speaker of truth to power who was far less popular in his final years because he held a mirror to America that indicted us all - and the ever-radical Baldwin to inspire me and gird me for what will surely be a long fight, the fight, in fact, of our lives.  I will hold fast to that lodestar vision of the Beloved Community, a place and time in which all will be welcome and celebrated for who they are and what they can do not only for themselves but for the betterment of us all as well.

I accept that this vision is a long way off for now, but will you join me on the path?  As arduous as it will undoubtedly prove at times, can we invest ourselves more meaningfully than in this pursuit?

As Cornell West put it,

The response of the radical King to our catastrophic moment

can be put  in one word: revolution - a revolution in our

priorities, a reevaluation of our values, a reinvigoration of

our public life, and a fundamental transformation of our way

of thinking and living that promotes a transfer of power from

oligarchs and plutocrats to everyday people and ordinary citizens.

- Cornell West, ed., The Radical King (2015) 

And as Dr. King himself suggested, we should seek,

An overflowing love which seeks nothing in return, agape is

the love of God operating in the human heart.  At this level,

we love (all) men not because we like them, nor because their

ways appeal to us, nor even because they possess some type

of divine spark; we love every (hu)man because God loves him.

- The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,

Strength to Love (1963)

A bigger table indeed....

You don't choose your family.

They are God's gift to you,

as you are to them.

 - The Most Reverend Desmond Mpilo Tutu,

Enthronement Address (1986)

It's Thanksgiving, that most American of holidays, so we pause to reflect on our blessings, revel in the company of relatives and friends and rediscover the true sense of our abundance: the love of those whose presence in our lives makes ours the unique - and uniquely meaningful - journeys that they are.  In this spirit, I offer both this meditation on the traditional Thanksgiving gathering and a suggestion to consider an evolved version of it.

Thanksgiving is the Booker Family holiday: for more than half a century now, I've been journeying to an annual gathering of the tribe, usually somewhere in the Boston area, but occasionally to a farther flung outpost like Atlanta or even in my now home state, New Jersey.  (This year it happens to be on Cape Cod again, but likely without the huge bonfire that so amazed and delighted us at last year's gathering ... but I digress....)

As a child, this was my typically once yearly opportunity to meet and mingle with my father's side of the family, a raucous, loving bunch who had big hearts, big mouths and big laughs.  They were so populous in the small hamlet of West Medford, Massachusetts, that it seemed like every other house belonged to some relative or close family friend.  West Medford, or "Meh-fuh" as it's pronounced (I was explicitly instructed never to phonate the D's), was a magical place that revolved around my grandmother's home at 39 Jerome Street.  To the side of her garage was a pathway to Uncle Charlie's house on the next street over and around the corner was my Aunt Alice's home just past my disabled cousin Jimmy Lassiter's home, and so on.

What a colorful collection of modest souls, starting with my grandmother, the late Carrie Hoyt Booker Frye.  (Just so you know, somehow, she was a Furr, which is ostensibly a branch of my family that has an even longer history in the area ... but, again, I digress....)  Apparently my grandfather James - whom I never met - was a bit of a rapscallion with whom she had 13 children - only 8 of whom survived to adulthood - and then parted ways.  (Yeah, I know, how do you have 13 kids with someone before you judge him unworthy, but isn't this the kind of mystery that makes families so fun?)  Some years later she met and married a wonderful man named Harold Frye, one of the sweetest, gentlest souls I've ever known.  From him I learned two things primarily: first, that one didn't need to be overtly forceful to have great influence - it was his quiet, commanding way that I'll always remember as he was so much a man's man but without the need to show it - and, second, that the role of a spouse is to be inseparably and lovingly committed to and focused on one's beloved - as, for Grandpa Harold, the sun rose and set on his beloved Carrie so much so that even her rather boisterous children would stand down in his presence (but, again, I digress...).

From my grandmother, I learned the art of the matriarch, how a grand dame presides over her brood with an iron will and yet with a sweet - but not too sweet - way about her.  And from her children, I learned a great deal about life, including that it's to be lived fully and joyfully with just a touch of rancor among relatives to balance out the overabundance of love.  Unlike my mother's side of the family, which featured some lifelong feuds among siblings, etc., the Bookers got on each other's nerves occasionally but loved one another unconditionally, an unshakable bond that has left an indelible impression on me (even as it attenuates in my and younger generations ... but again, I digress...).  Squabbles from time to time but love always.

Apparently my Aunt Alyce (who lived to be 99 years old) was a seamstress, a gift that I discovered during my college years when she custom-made some items for me that I'll always treasure in memory.  The eldest boy was my Uncle Frankie, who, among his many talents, was a contractor who rebuilt many of the modest homes in the neighborhood and spent a fair portion of the year in his 'retirement' as an itinerant golfer in Florida.  Then came Uncle Charlie, who, I was told, was never quite right after the War (as in WWII).  (Let's just say that rarely has a more colorful character walked this earth ... because if we say more than that, then we'll have to acknowledge that for every one of his real world accomplishments - and there were several meaningful ones - there are multiple incidents and stories that are much funnier and more lovable in hindsight.)  After this came Uncle Robbie, a sweet soul who became the antecedent of today's Uber driver after he retired from his main career (about which I can no longer remember).  (Let's just say that Uncle Robbie was also one of the sweetest men I've ever known ... and one of the slowest-driving, too!)  And then there was Aunt Gertie, a vibrant, jubilant soul whose presence invariably meant that laughter was imminent and sure to be infectious.  (Aunt Gertie went to visit a friend in Albany, New York, one weekend and didn't come back to West Medford for over 20 years - yeah, each one of 'em had some fascinating stories to tell ... but, again and lovingly, I digress....)  Then came my father, Billy, who was one of two siblings to leave the fold and move away from the family seat, which is why I grew up in Detroit.  (Let's just say that love and the passage of time afford me the luxury of wistful and happy remembrance of my father, because our time together during my adolescence was memorable for all the wrong reasons, which, thankfully, pales now in comparison to the lessons that he taught me - most accidental - and for which I thank him daily still.)  Then came the baby of the family, my Aunt Mary, who, among many gifts in addition to her endearing, quick and hearty laugh, had the most delightfully prominent New England accent, was the second adult in my life other than my (paternal) grandmother to remarry successfully and, it turns out, could drive a school bus, which she did on multiple occasions while ferrying the family down to visit relatives on the Cape.

(You're thinking that I just recounted seven colorful elders, but what about the eighth who survived to adulthood, right?  Well, it turns out that my father's younger brother James Ketell Booker didn't quite make it all the way to adulthood and died when he was fourteen, long before my time.  This being said, my uncle's legacy is with me every day: yes, people, that's actually what the "K" is for in my initials - my middle name is "Kettel" after my uncle - but, it turns out, as you may have noticed, that my father and my grandmother spelled it differently.  One of the many, many cherished memories of my youth was listening to the two of them argue about who spelled it right: a contretemps that my grandmother won, of course, because, as she pointed out with unassailable logic, she came up with the name in the first place.  Though he had to stand down with his mother, my dad never did quite admit that my very name represents a misspelling, a distinction that makes me chuckle every time I think of it ... but, again and also lovingly, I digress....)

As you can likely intuit, I could tell wonderfully crazy stories about these wonderfully crazy people whose influence is so indelible - as a family's should be - but I do so as a prelude to this point: that when we gathered to celebrate this holiday, all 30+ of us including cousins and various other types of relations, there were always a few non-family members at the celebration as well.  As I've aged, I've come to realize that it is perhaps the greatest lesson that my family, collectively, taught me: that as much as we congregated annually to celebrate our loving bond, that fealty was always expansive and benevolent enough to be extended to others.

Ours was always a bigger table, invariably welcoming of others who were instantly accorded an honored place amongst our merry band simply because they were esteemed and treasured by one of us.  Yes, my father's family taught me that the true nature of this collective relationship and of this holiday: that loved ones are related both by blood and by heart and that the greater the both of these the larger and more mutually reinforcing and beneficial the affiliation.  I can't tell you how some of those folks came to join our extended family back in the day; I can simply say that they were as welcomed and honored and treasured as anyone else in the room, an unusual and endearing affiliative gift which they noted often and always gratefully.

So, as you prepare to celebrate this holiday, whom will you invite to your own bigger table?  I can only share my experience, which is that the wider you open your arms, the more love will be in the room.  Accordingly, I hope that you invite someone(s) into the bosom of your brood as the Bookers have done for generations.  In so doing, I also pray that you reap the incidental but incredibly real and meaningful benefit thereof: the more love you extend, the more love will be felt, reveled in and shared.

May your table be bigger in direct proportion to your heart and may the blessings that flow from your association with the diverse and unique group of souls who populate your path in life lead you to treasure every step and every moment so that this and every day becomes a celebration of your gratitude for the Grace in and of your life.

39 Jerome Street is no more, but Carrie Booker Frye's legacy is alive and well - and growing - several generations on.  May your extended family experience what mine has lived joyfully so that you, too, come to appreciate this enhanced sacred celebration of life and love both in the moment and throughout time eternal.  It is truly a gift to be thankful for each and every day....

Happy Thanksgiving from me and my crazy-wonderful extended family, the Bookers!

For as long as I could remember, I had two really great stories

planted within my heart, stories that not everyone has.  The first

was the story of a family that loved me.  They spent time with me,

told me that I mattered, that I was adored, that I could be anything

I dreamed of being - and that they were for me.  Home was a sanctuary.

It was belonging.  It was a soft place for my soul to find rest.  Second, I had

a story about God.  In my God story, God was real, God was good, and I was

fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of this very good God. ... It was and

is a beautiful and (I believe) true story, one that for most of my life has yielded the

awareness that I was never alone and that God was always present.

- John Pavlovitz, A Bigger Table:

Building Messy, Authentic, and Hopeful Spiritual Community (2017)

Life and the challenge of living it....

Life is difficult.

This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths.

It is a great truth because once we clearly see this truth,

we transcend it.

Once we truly know that life is difficult - 

once we truly understand and accept it -

then life is no longer difficult.

Because once it is accepted,

the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.

- M. Scott Peck, MD, The Road Less Travelled

Remember when you were a kid and couldn't wait to be older/an adult to take advantage of the greatly enhanced freedoms that came with it?  How's that working out exactly?  As for me, well, as I sit here typing in front of my computer screen looking at my "I Can't Adult Today" sign (a thoughtful gift from my wonderful wife), I'm torn: truth be told I enjoy my adult life so that I wouldn't want to go back to being a kid again ... but I also now know something that I really wish my parents and/or other elders would have told me back in the day: adulting is much harder than it looks.

In my formative years, if you'd told me that by 55 years of age I would live a life that can be accurately described as a rollercoaster - generally fun and thrilling, but also occasionally and meaningfully nauseating - I wouldn't have believed you: my own parents' lives - and those of the elders whom I also observed - were beset with challenges but on the whole happy.

And, yet, as I write this, I realize that this characterization may, in fact, be wrong: upon closer examination - with my adult life experience and lens on now - I can see that adult life was harder for my loved ones than I appreciated at the time, but I only focused on the part of greatest interest to me, the enhanced freedom part.  I totally underappreciated and underestimated the challenging side ... and therein lies the lesson that I hope to pass on.

In six words: adulting is harder than it looks.

Certainly the enhanced freedoms part of adult life is the easiest to value.  I get to make the vast majority of the decisions in my life, with the exception of those I make interdependently with my spouse/life partner.  And in this choosing is the opportunity to create, for the most part, the life that I want (subject, of course, to the vagaries of fate and the constraints of the level of resources accessible that we all face).  So this part of adulting is great ... and, apparently, the only one that I appreciated sufficiently in my youth.

The flip side of the adulting opportunity, the responsibility to deal with the unique vagaries of fate to which we are all subject, is another matter entirely.  Man, did I miss this totally as a kid: in a word, adulting is hard!

But the evidence was there to see when I was young, but I made the perfectly understandable and normal choice to be oblivious to it: my parents' lives involved a great deal of struggle, too.  There was the challenge of two very different people being and staying married for over four decades.  There was the challenge of their respective/twin addictions.  There was the challenge of being comfortably middle class enough not to want for necessities, but insufficiently so as to have many luxuries that would have made the journey appreciably more fulfilling and fun.

For example, my mother's dream was to travel in her retirement.  She toiled mightily and absorbingly for years trying to impart knowledge, wisdom and life skills to her students, all the while expecting that she would be able to retire in her sixties and see in person that big wide world that she had encouraged so many others to explore through the pages of books.

But it was not to be: less than a year into her retirement and less than a week into her relocation to her new home in the South (which would also make it easier for her to care for my aging, ailing grandmother), she had a series of heart attacks and open heart surgery, a leg amputated and, for all intents and purposes, her dreams of a life of leisure and exploration ended.  She had waited more than 30 years for something that would never be....

When I was young, so enamored of the freedom of adulthood, I failed to learn the other - and, I would argue, more important - lesson of life: with greater freedom comes much greater responsibility and therein lies the true challenge of adult life.

Don't get me wrong, the freedom part can be challenging at times ... but, invariably, these are good problems to have.  (Or, as 'woke' folks describe them, 'First World' problems.)  And there is a major lesson hiding in all of that wonderment that virtually all of us fail to appreciate: success brings with it challenges that must be addressed, too.

Think about it:  The Beatles are considered by many to be the greatest musical group of all time ... but even they couldn't handle being at the pinnacle of their chosen vocation for less than a decade.  So, too, with Mike Tyson, who could arguably be described as having the potential to have been the greatest heavyweight boxer of all time ... except that he couldn't manage life outside of the ring and ended up aborting his career within it as well.  (Fill in your favorite examples here as well.)

In other words, there's something that the Rolling Stones figured out that the Beatles didn't, which is why they continue to defy the odds and prance in spandex six decades later.  So, too, with ... well, I can't come up with a modern boxing analogy, but some of the older generation that preceded Tyson managed to stay on top for a lot longer than he did (admittedly, it turns out, to their physical detriment).  And therein lies the point: even success requires the life skill to handle it (something that I learned the hard way at my own previous professional and personal peak a decade ago).

The greater responsibility part of adulthood is the more obvious and straightforward of the challenges, but this doesn't make it inherently more manageable.  Just because we know life is gonna throw us curve balls doesn't necessarily means that we'll be able to hit them, and when we whiff we end up being clear on the need for a far greater and deeper set of coping skills than we originally anticipated.  Just because we know the pitch is coming doesn't mean that it won't strike us out.

And therein lies the lesson that I hope to share, especially with my younger loved ones and the next generation: we are well advised in life to prepare for the storm especially when it doesn't appear to be on the horizon, because the only certainty to which we can subscribe is that it is, indeed, coming ... multiple times.

At mid-life, I don't have a single friend or loved one who hasn't experienced the loss of a job or a marriage or an appreciable illness or....  And Lord knows, I've experienced them all, as did my parents.  The storm is coming, the question is whether we'll be adult (read = mature) enough to prepare for it (or, more accurately, them).

Among the best preparations, I have learned, are an ever-widening web of strong, loving relationships, a personal spirituality that centers and comforts us and a willingness to be accepting of our unique vagaries of fate.  In raging against the storm, I have found, we do the most damage.  By accepting its legitimacy and presence, on the other hand, we can weather it and learn from the experience.  Turns out that Buddhist principle is true that every circumstance in life (especially the ones that we perceive negatively) is trying to teach us something, the question being whether we'll choose to be open to learning the lesson.

And another Buddhist principle has worked for me, too:  Years ago, during a period of profound turbulence in my own life, I decided to learn how to meditate in an effort to weather it more effectively.  And I failed.  I couldn't sit quietly and quiet my mind as the thoughts - all random, some quite disturbing (which, I now realize, means revealing) - just kept coming and coming and coming.  A forced, 30-minute meditation session often left me more stressed than before because I could now add the frustration of not being able to calm myself to the long list of challenges with which I was already dealing.

And then I read somewhere that the point was not to achieve quiet but to achieve acceptance and release: that I should acknowledge the visions, emotions and thoughts that came up, name them and then release them.  The relief, it turned out, was in the letting go.  So, I learned to say, "this feeling is anger" and then to let it go and "this feeling is hurt/pain" and let it go and "this feeling is confusion" and let it go and so on.  And I felt better having found a type of meditation that I could actually practice.

But I kept reading and then discovered something even better: one sage suggested that meditation was the process of finding and experiencing the uniquely sacred in yourself and life and that if sitting quietly and clearing your head didn't work, you should find an alternative that did.  And this was a revelation because I realized something that I had always known but not fully appreciated: reading is my meditation.  When I am in the journey of the pages I am awash in what's sacred to me, at once fully vibing on the wisdom to be gleaned from whatever I'm reading but also fully present and grateful for the moment and the circumstances that create it.  In sum, when I read, I feel in touch with my deepest reality and grateful for this experience.  And in the temperate times when I can open the window, the song of nature makes this experience even more sublime....

Even better, to this enhanced awareness of and appreciation for a uniquely meaningful meditative practice I can now add writing.  A few years ago, a dear friend (whose identity, truthfully, I can't even remember), mentioned that she had been touched by something I wrote and encouraged me to write more.  Writing had always been an advanced skill of mine - having an English teacher for a mother and a singularly gifted and inspiring priest for an English teacher in high school certainly helped immensely! - and I had neglected it for the most part in my adult life.  I had shut off the creative pursuit in favor of other supposedly more urgent pursuits like raising my family, perfecting my golf game, developing myself as a leader and executive professionally and in my community, etc.  But, encouraged by this recognition, I decided to re-discover my gift.

And what a fulfilling, enlivening and elevating journey it has been!  In the solace of my thoughts, as I parse my reality and seek to glean meaningful learnings from it, I am at peace ... and I also can create something that others find meaningful, too.  Which is why I'm sharing this piece, both because its development has been helpful to me and because it has the potential to be helpful to you, Dear Reader, too.

Which brings me back to where I started this jaunt, wishing that my elders had been more explicit with me about the challenges of adult life.  First, I accept that maybe they were but I just wasn't mature enough to listen.  More importantly, I've learned from this circumstance and will not repeat it: you can be assured that I'll share with my own children and the next generation the need to be more prepared than is obvious to address the inevitable challenges that life will present.

And yet, again, I wouldn't trade this challenging adult life to return to being a kid.  As much as I may be tempted to be wistful about 'lost' or 'wasted' or 'underleveraged' time in my past life, I realize that I can't reclaim it or change it in any way, so I'm compelled to learn from it and go forward living differently and better.  Among the ways that this evidences itself is a continuing imperative to savor the freedoms of life and to embraces its challenges as learning opportunities/wisdom developers.

In the end, this is all that I have in this one journey through this time and space which which I'm gifted: to learn to from life and, in so doing, to make ever more fulfilling choices, one of the most important of which is to share with others along the way.  As hard as it sometimes is to accept, this will be my legacy, what lingers long after I'm gone physically: the impression that I made in the lives of others and the meaning that I shared in my earthly time.

And as I write this, I realize that, indeed, long ago, I was exposed to this wisdom but wasn't yet mature enough to appreciate it fully.  As the Bard imparted through Hamlet more than half a millennium ago:

To be or not to be, that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind

to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

or to take arms against a sea of trouble

and by opposing end them.

A world more humane....

I love America more than any other country in this world,

and, exactly for this reason,

I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.

- James Baldwin, Notes from a Native Son (1955)

Ta-Nehisi Coates is a singular talent.  Not quite yet the James Baldwin of our era, but certainly moving in this direction, which is a very good thing for us all.  Because, like Baldwin, he records our experience lyrically and indelibly, even though that experience seems of late to be decreasingly lyrical and ever more indelible.  His latest book, We Were Eight Years In Power, is the latest example of a lost art, the calling and ability to Speak the Truth to Power elegantly and urgently.  For those of us who care about our country and especially for those who care about their fellows who have not always had a full experience of its better aspects, this is truly a must-read.

The interesting thing is that what Coates does in this book is not so much criticize America (as Baldwin suggests), although there is some of this, to be sure, as to hold a mirror up to it so that we can see just how great the gap is between who we claim to be and who we are.  It is a damning reveal....

The technique is a bit unusual in that Coates shares one of his signature essays from each year of the two Obama Administrations preceded by an often wistful and always incisive and indicting commentary.  He then finishes with an Epilogue that serves as prologue for the life we are living in the current administration, which reflects just how frayed are the bonds of our commonweal.  It's telling and powerful that even though we've read these essays before, they seem even more trenchant today and Coates' commentary is similarly searing.  To put it kindly, America's willful blindness is as frightening as it is costly, especially to those who have already experienced the downside of its putative Dream.  And Coates' is yet another clarion call for us to examine ourselves, to own our dysfunction and to organize to change our ways, lest we be treated to a regression that mocks our espoused yet rarely practiced cardinal freedoms.

(And, no, the title does not refer to the time of the Obama presidency, but to another time of American triumph that ended in tragedy and shame, the post-Civil War Reconstruction, which saw our country cede dearly won progress to the forces of evil and darkness that lasted, in the main, for another century [and, many including Coates would argue, to this very day].)

The fireworks begin in the Introduction in which Coates traces the roots of today's Obama-era racism.  He quotes the prescient W.E.B. DuBois, who noted of the South Carolinians of the Reconstruction, "If there is one thing that (they) feared more than bad Negro government, it was good Negro government."  In this context, then, it's perhaps less surprising but even more saddening that the Obama-era critics, most often couching their racism in more acceptable terms (though sometimes not), evidenced a similar pattern:

But when it becomes clear that Good Negro Government might, in any way,

empower actual Negroes over actual whites, then the fear sets in,

the affirmative-action charges begin, and the birtherism emerges.

And this is because, at its core, those American myths have never been colorless.

...

And as much as we can theoretically imagine a seamless black integration into the American myth,

the white part of this country remembers the myth as it was conceived.

...

The symbolic power of Barack Obama's presidency -

that whiteness was no longer strong enough from preventing

peons from taking up residence in the castle

- assaulted the most deeply rooted notions of white supremacy

and instilled fear in its adherents and beneficiaries.

...

But the argument made in much of this book is that

Good Negro Government - personal and political -

often augments the very white supremacy it seeks to combat.

It is an argument that proves persuasive by the Epilogue, if for no other reason than the backlash with which Coates began the book - the abandonment of full Black inclusion in the civic life of our country after the Civil War - reappears so eerily in our time in the election of a man who embodies so many of the -isms that continue to infect our country that he can personally be described as the Ugly American.

As I read each of the essays and their preceding commentary, I became paradoxically more angry and more calm: angry that in my lifetime so much of what we thought to be true was, in fact, the mirage of progress in our society and calm in that my resolve to finish this critical work has never been greater.  It felt good to believe the soothing myth that we were much better than we used to be, but never again: though we may be a little better than we used to be - to which President Obama's very being attests so tangibly and powerfully - we are still way too far away from living our professed creeds for so/too many of our fellow citizens, especially those who have traditionally found themselves as the Other frequently if not constantly in our history.  It's time to stop telling fairy tales about who we claim to be and to deal in hard truths of who we are (with acknowledgment of progress, to be sure, but not excessive celebrations thereof until this becomes the rule and not the exception).

And that Epilogue, entitled "The First White Presidency," is a fitting capstone to an exceptional effort.  More than simply an indictment of 45 himself, it's grounded in the modern history of race and other exclusions in our society and, as much as I want to disagree with the author, demonstrates the near inevitability of the current occupant of the White House.  It's the antidote to the modern liberal tendency to declare victory before we've reached the finish line: celebrating the breakthroughs as if the limits broken are dashed for all time when, invariably, they reappear immediately (if less obviously).

Think about it: do you ever really expect to see a Black president again in our lifetime?  And not as the second such exception, but as the next of many to follow?  That's the point: that exceptionalism exists in every group, so the triumph of one does not inherently inure to the benefit of all.  The true test of the equity in our society is not when the next exceptional African-American or woman or ___ can become president, but when ones as average as so many of their white predecessors can repeatedly.  The true test of equity and Diversity is in the middle, not at the top....

So, to follow the brilliant and sorely missed MLK, where do we go from here: chaos or community?  At the risk of being (too) political for a moment, I see the GOP urging us toward the former (especially because when the people are fighting amongst themselves the rich and powerful don't have to be involved) and the progressive among us negotiating how to effect the latter.

But this will not be easy work, as Coates reminds us (as did Baldwin before him).  If we're able to stay grounded in the searing reality captured in this difficult but elegant and transcendent work, we just may be able to make meaningful progress together, all of us.  Not just Blacks or members of the LGTBQ community or victims of sexual assault or immigrants and Dreamers or....  All of us, united in pursuit of a pure quest: to live out the inclusive professed creeds of our Constitution.

Yet this will not happen if meaningful progress doesn't happen across the board: we will be little better off if too many powerful men stop sexually harassing women but some of these cannot marry and live happily and fully with others of their own gender (especially free of the influence of fake-religious bigotry).  It will not matter that much if we elect our first female president, but Latinos and the poor continue to be demonized, excluded and actively harmed by state and local governments and too many of their fellow citizens.  Etc.

In sum, we must take up the quest on which Coates ends his piercingly analytical jeremiad:

I see the fight against sexism, racism, poverty, and even war

finding their union not in synonymity

but in their ultimate goal - 

a world more humane.

When is enough ENOUGH?

It is the honey which makes us cruel enough

to ignore the death of a bee.

- Munia Khan, Author and Poet

Is anyone truly surprised?  I mean, really, are you surprised that 45 pardoned Sheriff Arpaio?  If so, why?  Was Charlottesville not enough to show you who 45 is?  Did you need to have him betray not only humanity (again) but the rule of law (again) with this latest travesty of a pardon to reveal his character, or, in truth, gaping lack thereof (again)?  Oh, the times they have a-changed....

I would like to think that it's not out of cynicism but a well-considered (re-)commitment to reality that has left me unfazed by this latest 'presidential' travesty.  (There's that word again; sorry, but it just fits....)  In fact, I assumed that it was only a matter of time, especially since 45's supposedly coy men allusion to the possibility at his previous travesty this week, the rally in Phoenix.

[Parenthetical reflection: in what has to be some kind of presidential 'record', 45 backed up a frighteningly unhinged rant in Phoenix - to a blessedly small crowd, thankfully - with a pardon of an unrepentant law breaker who's a skilled and committed racist, too.  And we thought Charlottesville was bad.  How many times in this presidency are we going to say, with horror, "What a week!?!"  Like, perhaps, every week?!?]

So now a supposed "law and order" president has pardoned its antithesis, a sheriff so racist, unlawful, inhumane and unrepentant that he was on the verge of being jailed for defying the very law that he was sworn to uphold.  The cravenness and inhumanity are stunning ... but par for the course.

I probably should spend some more time buttressing my argument with the facts about just how bad a person and government official the former sheriff is/was, but, frankly, I'm tired of the b.s.  He's just so abominable that I can't summon the energy to recount the horrors that prove why.  It's been done well by too many others too many times already....

What I can summon the energy to do is to explore the 'why' behind this latest presidential travesty and seek to help us figure out what to learn and anticipate from it.

Suffice it to say that I don't think that rewarding a loyal campaign supporter who also happens to be a fellow inhuman is the entire story behind this pardon.  In fact, I suspect that it's only a pretext.  Not to be too jaundiced, but I really think that this pardon is just the latest in what will prove to be a long series of "celebrations of the cynical" that will ultimately be the legacy of this presidency (and potentially our downfall as a country).

My suspicion is that 45 has a whole host of these morally callow and repugnant moves up his sleeve, in part because they reflect the utter callowness and repugnance of the man and in part because they're excellent political theater and strategy.  Think about it: what aren't we now focusing on because we're being distracted by this pardon inanity?

Certainly Russia.  Certainly 45's use of the Presidency to enrich himself personally.  Certainly his seeming glee in nominating (similarly[?]) stupifyingly unqualified candidates to key government posts.  Certainly his willingness to abide, condone and tacitly support the propagation of the myriad -isms that have plagued and continue to plague our beloved country.  Certainly his forfeiture of the role as the American president of being Leader of the Free World.

I could go on, but why bother?  It's clear that 45 is the most unqualified person ever to hold this office, both from a technical and personal standpoint.  Sure, we've had racist/xenophobic/etc. presidents before, but none so brazenly so now that we as a society supposedly condemn such inhumanity.  Sure, we've had incompetent presidents before, but none so determinedly so as to nominate non-scientists for influential science posts or sweatshop promoters for key labor posts or ... well, you get the picture....

What troubles me is that it's still unclear how low we'll allow 45 to take us before we revolt both figuratively and literally.  I remain amazed both at the fervence of his sheepish flock and at the seeming ambivalence of the 'moral majority' that appears willing to entertain its antithesis so long as its members are not affected directly and personally.  And I wonder just what it's going to take for us not just to resist - as, thankfully, many millions of us are beginning to do impactfully - but to bring down this order of the profane and deranged and replace it with a true government for the people by the people, a novel experiment to which we must return if we hope to salvage whatever can be made to remain of the American Dream.

What will it take for us to rise up together and shout in word and deed "ENOUGH!?!"  Not just enough of 45, but enough of the fraudulent, money-fueled system that produced him.  Not just enough of identity politics that mask the class war that's still being waged successfully centuries on in our history, but enough of the focus on the interests of the few over the many.  Not just enough of the combination of fake religion and fake patriotism in which too many of our fellows wrap themselves, but enough of the failure to respect and value our differences and uniqueness in addition to what we share.  Not just enough of lying to ourselves and the world about who we say we are, but enough of the failure to live up to our professed creeds that affirm us as equal beings gifted with unalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

When will enough be ENOUGH, America?

I say that we start now....

I just wish that every responsible and concerned person would step back

regardless of race or gender and just take a closer look

at what's really going on in the world today

and say enough is enough.

 - Lonnie Earl Johnson, Convicted Murderer (Executed, 2007)

If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention....

History will have to record that the greatest tragedy

of this period of social transition

was not the strident clamor of the bad people,

but the appalling silence of the good people.

- The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,

Stride Toward Freedom: The Montgomery Story (1957)

Charlottesville.  I can't write.  I'm numb.  I can't write.  I'm deeply sad.  I can't write.  This is so wrong.  I can't write.  But this is America.  So I must write....

The time has come to choose sides: you are either for holding ourselves accountable for living up to our professed creeds - including that all people are created equal - or you are for favoring some over the others, which typically means the few over the many.  What is your choice?

We can no longer sit by and watch a president - small 'p' intended - alternatively encourage and absolve a group whose ideals are the antithesis of our republic's ... unless we want to admit that our ideals were never quite what we claimed them to be (or, to the point, in this modern era, we don't want them to be so).  There are no other options: the situation is binary ... just like the choice before all of us.

You must either stand on the side of humanity, diversity and inclusion or you must continue to defend our country's shameful legacy of inhumanity, supremacy and exclusion.  What is your choice?

A young woman died yesterday protesting the legacy of hate in our country, you know, the one that so many false patriots claim is the greatest and thus can't be criticized.  Actually, yesterday's tragedy proved the hollow falsity of this lie: if you can't criticize what happened yesterday - as our president didn't - then you really can't and don't care about our country.

Why?  It's quite simple really: what happens when it's your turn to be the hated?  I'm guessing that you'll want some special dispensation, the kind that you give to today's haters and withhold from their victims.  But as history shows, none will be forthcoming, especially, God forbid, if your 'side' loses.  Woe to you when the lessers rule....

I want to honor Heather Heyer, so I write ... slowly, painfully and partially numb, but I write.  I want to make hers the last such sacrifice on our torturous road to extending our constitutional rights to all.  I want to make ours a world that's so much better than we showed ourselves to be yesterday ... or, truth be told, any day in American history (with few notable exceptions).

What we saw yesterday is reality, not an aberration.  It's who we really are collectively: the far less noble denizens of a country that has sometimes subtly and often overtly encouraged the violent practice of -isms that, in the end, hurt us all.

We are not raised by racism, we are lowered by it.  We are not raised by sexism and misogyny, we are lowered by them.  We are not raised by ethnocentrism and xenophobia, we are lowered by them.  We are not raised by religiocentrism and religious bigotry, we are lowered by them.  We are not raised by gun-toting and violence, we are lowered by them.  We are not raised by classism and elitism, we are lowered by them.  Etc.

So, America, what is our choice?  Heather Heyer's legacy hinges thereon....

I love America more than any other country in this world,

and, exactly for this reason,

I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.

- James Baldwin, "Autobiographical Notes,"

Notes of a Native Son (1955)

Niemoller Redux....

Those who cannot remember the past

are doomed to repeat it.

 - George Santayana, The Life of Reason (1905-1906)

Reason in Common Sense, Vol. 1

Earlier this year, just a week after the inauguration of a new American president, I wrote a piece entitled "Who are we and what have we become?"  The question is more urgent now.

That president has shown himself to be unworthy of the office repeatedly - and almost gleefully so - and yet there are those who defend his behavior staunchly.  The sad irony is that the vast majority of those who tend to defend - and, in truth really, excuse - him most fiercely are also those who are most disenfranchised by him and his 'policies.'

Who are we and what have we become, indeed.

Why, just this week, this 'president' gracelessly turned the Boy Scout Jamboree into a political rally - with an even less graceless summoning of a chant deriding his predecessor, no less - and we were shocked and saddened again (for what, like the 97th or 970th time?!?).  But he's an overachiever, this one, so he had to top that slide to a new bottom by banning our fellow transgender citizens from serving in the military.  (Yeah, because, you know, that's a major problem for our society, them transgenders runnin' up all those medical bills the military has to pay.)  And if all of this new crassness and cravenness weren't enough - and in case we weren't clear that there's no low to which he won't go - he ended the week by focusing on another sudden area of interest - in this case, Latino gangs on Long Island - by encouraging officers of the law to physically abuse suspects - yes, suspects, not convicts - which, even more damningly, drew significant cheers from the crowd of officers assembled.  WTF, America?!?  Seriously.

Who are we and what have we become, indeed.

Like so many of my generation, I was told the lie that I could grow up to be president one day, and I kinda believed it.  Not the part about actually becoming president - I am African-American after all - but the sentiment that I should seek to be a leader in my community, especially by contributing constructively to the welfare of our commonweal.  I naively subscribed to the notion that I could help America move ever closer to living its creeds, a nation in which we were judged, in the indelible words of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King's indelible phrase, by the content of our character and not the color of our skin (or, to put a modern addendum on this, whatever our 'difference(s)' may be).

And President Obama made me both proud and ashamed: proud that a literal African-American could ascend to the presidency in my lifetime and govern - truly lead - with such vision, grace and restraint ... and ashamed of myself for assuming that this was not possible and thus lowering my own sights to serve as well as ashamed of my country because of how we, collectively, treated this man.  Imagine the delusional hubris necessary for us to consider ourselves "post-racial" just for electing him.  Own the craven racism that we exhibited in ways both overt and covert for the next eight years.

But because positive change is inexorably followed by a regressive reaction, we have as our 'leader' - no, not a flawed but competent and committed public servant as the Leader of the Free World - this trainwreck of a human being - and many days I'm not sure about the 'human' part - who is the very embodiment of all of the -isms that continue to plague our country.  (I don't need to list 'em, right, the racism, sexism/misogyny, xenophobia, religiocentrism, etc.?)  To borrow the title of a damning reflection on our society a half-century ago, our president is truly The Ugly American ... and still some of our member revel in this.

Who are we and what have we become, indeed.

I am saddened to acknowledge this new, lesser reality about us: it was bad enough that we were horrible to a graceful leader who happened to be African-American, but the unshakable embrace of our current president - the very embodiment of all that I have raised my children and mentored thousands of young people not to be - by so many of our fellow citizens often leaves me bereft of late.  And then I remember that despondency will only increase my and our suffering and I am called - truly compelled - to resist.

And I start in this resistance by being grounded in history, including the piercing - and tragic - wisdom of the late Rev. Martin Niemoller.  A leader in the Confessing Church - a resistance movement that opposed the Nazi-controlled and -led German Lutheran Church during World War II - he observed a particularly damaging pattern of behavior among his countrymen, a troubling acquiescence to Evil.  In my view, it is the same acquiescence that we are displaying in our own country at this very moment.

An example from this past week:  Upon learning of 45's inhumane and ill-considered prohibition of transgender Americans from serving in the military, celebrity Caitlyn Jenner was outraged and tweeted in defiant response to the president's announcement.  Good for her ... except that the timing and her response were, shall we say to be kind, both tardy and self-concerned.  As acknowledged liberal commentator Allen Clifton noted about the situation:

It’s amazing, isn’t it?

Apparently, Jenner was fine when Trump:

• Slandered Mexicans.

• Vilified immigrants.

• Pushed hate against Muslims.

• Tweeted out anti-African American propaganda made by white supremacists.

• Belittled POWs.

• Attacked Gold Star parents.

• Made sexist comments.

• Mocked the appearance of Ted Cruz’s wife.

• Fueled a campaign filled with so much hate, he inspired the KKK, white nationalists, and neo-Nazis to become more politically active than they’ve been in decades.

• Spent the last few weeks pushing for a health care bill that will strip insurance away from millions, literally killing people.

Despite all of that, Jenner still voted for Trump because none of his previous horrific behavior was really aimed at her or any sort of demographic to which she belongs. It wasn’t until he did something aimed at individuals like herself, transgender Americans, that she’s now speaking out against him.

See, that’s what drives me crazy about Republicans. They’re perfectly fine letting their politicians vilify or screw over other groups of people, just as long as that GOP ignorance doesn’t impact them.

So/too often now, we're fine with others being maimed by the inhumane and cynically erratic behavior of our president - and the craven sycophancy and hypocrisy of his (Republican) enablers in Congress - as long as it doesn't affect us directly (or, in reality for too many, as long as we don't realize that it affects us).  In sum, we've become selfish and mean.  Honestly, think on this for just a moment.  How's this going to work out, writ large across our society and the expanse of history?  And even if you think that you - and, by extension, your loved ones - will be OK, what about everyone else?

I'll end this piece with the original formulation of Rev. Niemoller's prophetic poetic wisdom (which differs slightly from the most popular versions of it, known by the title of "First They Came...", but is no less poignant and damning), delivered early in the War when it had become clear just how expansive the scope of the evil vision of the Third Reich was:

When the Nazis came for the communists,

I remained silent;

I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,

I remained silent;

I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,

I did not speak out;

I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,

I was silent;

I wasn't a Jew.

When they came for me,

there was no one left to speak out.

What's good for Johnny is good for America....

To be a Negro in this country

and to be relatively conscious

is to be in a rage almost all the time.

So that the first problem

is how to control that rage

so that it won't destroy you.

 - James Baldwin, "The Negro in American Culture" (1961)

John - not his real name - is my friend, of whom I and his other family and friends are greatly proud, as should we all be.  He's the very embodiment of how we'd like to see ourselves as a society and as a country: from modest middle class beginnings, he's fashioned a successful and accomplished life for himself and his family in his adulthood.  He's played by the rules, kept his nose to the grindstone and worked hard as we were all taught to do.  Accordingly, he is a man to be admired and cited as an inspiration to us all and especially to our children.  And yet this is how he feels about his American Experience of the moment:

I spent much of yesterday in reflection, trying to put into words what I was feeling. While I could attribute a good portion of what I felt to the elevation of a man whom I've detested for much of my adult life - with good reason - there was something else. My antipathy towards that man masked another, deeper, set of feelings. It wasn't anger. Sure, the anger was there but I wanted to know what those other feelings were - the ones that I couldn't put my finger on.

Then it hit me. I remembered back to 5-6 years after I graduated from college. I was at a business event, for young Black professionals, where I heard a senior Black executive speak. Afterwards, I got a chance to chat with this man and we exchanged cards. I was thrilled, a few weeks later, when his office called and said that he'd like for me to join him for lunch. Over the span of 4-5 months, our relationship built as we had a number of discussions over the phone and in person. I grew to greatly admire and respect this man. As I had not had a business mentor who looked like me, this meant a lot. One day, he suggested that my fiancée (soon to be my wife) and I join him for dinner. On the way, we excitedly talked about the possibility that this man was going to make me a job offer. After all, my recent conversations with him were peppered with him telling me that "greater things were in store" for me, and that I wasn't "maximizing my talents" with my current employer.

It turns out that "dinner" was, actually, an MLM recruitment event. His "taking me under his wing" was an elaborate ploy to recruit me to sell soap and water purifiers and cosmetics. Later on, I heard that this was his M.O. He sized up "recruits" at networking events and developed a mentor relationship before asking them to join his team. It was the classic "long con". I was crushed and hurt to learn that someone whom I greatly admired, and respected, was someone dramatically different from what I thought he was. I never spoke with him again.

That was it. This was how I was feeling now. I'm hurt and disappointed to know that "my country" would elect a man, to the highest office in the land, who is vulgar and mean and racist and misogynistic and mendacious and ignorant and homophobic and insecure. And there is no question that he is these things - even those who voted for him would, mostly, agree. While I knew that the country was hardly "post racial", I thought we were better. I never in a million years thought that my country would actually elect someone like this man. A man who had been a NYC punchline for decades. A clown. A poor person's warped imagining of a rich person. Richie Rich wrapped up in Arthur wrapped up in the Monopoly Man.

So while I have hope for resistance, and while I believe that this resistance will usher in a new era of unity among those who will be oppressed under this "regime" (because that is, exactly, what it is), I am sad to have found out that the country I was so proud of for electing President Barack H. Obama, was actually setting me up for one of the the biggest disappointments of my life.

"Johnny," as he's called lovingly by his friends, has, by all measures, made it in modern America.  So why is he so disaffected?  My own view is that, in small part, this is due to his distress over the seemingly deep division in our commonweal.  This being said, however, I would argue that a far larger spur for his disaffection is that he is - and always will be - Black in America.  And to make it plain, as the old folks used to say, there's nothin' quite like - or as painful - as bein' Black in America....

I can empathize with Johnny's plight and with his feelings about our native land ... but I'm from Detroit, so despite my late but very proper southern mother's best efforts otherwise - sorry, Mom! - I am want to digress from eloquence into fierce frankness from time to time, so here goes....

What Johnny and I and many others, especially People of Color, are feeling is, simply put, betrayed.  Betrayed because we were lied to as kids (though, I'm sure, with the best of intentions on the part of those adults who nurtured us).  Betrayed because though we joined the mainstream and, by all accounts, played the game well, the outcomes and experience thereof has been meaningfully different - which is a really nice way of saying "lesser" - for us (despite the reality that many of us have done some amazing things and occupied lofty perches).  One need only think of President Obama - that elegant, graceful and disciplined man/soul - and how he was treated to understand what I'm suggesting.  Funny how you can become President of the United States - the ultimate accomplishment to which we were pointed as children - and still be disrespected largely due to immutable factors over which you have no control.  But I digress too eloquently....

And in light of the most recent developments in which our fellow citizens have elected a man who is the very embodiment of the -isms that still hold our country back as well as the very antithesis of all we were raised to be, in addition to feeling betrayed, we also feel palpably, sometimes uncontrollably, angry.

To put a finer point on it (and personalize it), pillar of the community though I may appear to be, our national social and political retrenchment, the continuing problems of societal inhumanity that have occasioned the need for a movement to coalesce under the moniker Black Lives Matter and the realization that so much progress is likely to be undone by the stroke of a presidential pen and a flurry of legislative activity from a formerly moribund and morally blind Congress is converging to make me that which (white) America fears most: the proverbial Angry Black Man.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I still dress well and go to work and play nice in the mainstream sandbox, but when I return to my home, my sanctuary, my anger is safe to come out.  And it does, virtually every day.  Lately it seems as if not a day goes by in which we learn of some new and tragic injustice, typically related to the victim's skin color (or some other immutable factor) and not the content of his or her character.

But perhaps I should be more careful with my words so that my meaning and message can be clearer: I am first and foremost outraged, which is what leads to my anger.  (Of course, the latter must be largely privately expressed, as public expressions thereof have consistently been met with brutal - and sometimes lethal - repression over the course of the history of our country.)

Outraged because a racist, sexist, misogynistic, xenophobic, homophobic, et. al., sexual predator has been elected the Leader of the Free World (as if other countries don't have enough reasons to be mad at us already).  Outraged that the utterly fraudulent class warfare that's been going on for more than a generation has marked itself so powerfully as well as likely so impermeable to redress, which has been confounded by 'the people' who are most being disenfranchised voting for it out of ignorance, fear and, most sadly, supposed faith.  Outraged that more than a half-century after the landmark Civil and Voting Rights Acts were passed, the consistent assault on and effective repeal of those rights proceeds apace, all while those who're doing the assaulting and repealing feign a lack of awareness with paternalistic unconcern.  Outraged that, in their young adulthood, my children are inheriting a world that is in many ways, far more f@#ked up than the one that my/our generation inherited and that we were supposed to improve far more than we apparently have.

Also let me be clear about this:  Yes, I am furiously angry because of my experience as a Black Man in America, my race and that of tens of millions of other People of Color continuing to have an outsized negative impact on our lives and especially those of our children ... but more than this, I am absolutely incensed because what's happening is an unconscionable affront to my and our humanity.  In this modern era, never before have we been so materially wealthy and yet so morally bankrupt.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I, too, have read MLK's later works in which his optimism had faded and his expressions of disappointment and outraged anger had multiplied, so I know that this country has been this way for some time.  But our assumption of progress - that uniquely naive American inheritance born of ignorance and arrogance - has proven misguided, at least in our lifetime.  If Dr. King is correct that the arc of the moral universe is long and bends toward justice, either its timeframe is far more elongated than we think or the unspoken caveat to this wisdom/insight is that progress is not linear but happens in fits and starts necessitating constant vigilance and continual action and advocacy.  But, again, I digress too eloquently....

What's most ironic to me in this new era of ours is that we're so deeply divided when, in actuality, I believe that we all agree on one thing: that our beloved America is on the wrong path.  The challenge that we face is a disagreement over the direction in which we should proceed going forward.  On the one side are those who hope to return to a bygone era (or, at least, a claimed one that has also been ascribed to history); on the other are those who believe, based on observation and experience, that history only moves forward and thus so should we.  Suffice it to say that I find myself (far) more persuaded by the latter than the former.

Simply put, there's no society on Earth that's been able to return to a golden era of a previous incarnation, though a few have tried to replicate them, most often with uneven results (to be kind).

What's far more prevalent in the historical record is that history marches on, often in unexpected directions, and thus people individually and societies collectively have to re-imagine their path creatively.  As numerous sages have pointed out over the years, the only certainty is that circumstances will change ... and our job is to be adaptable enough to roll with them and thrive in the successive new realities with which they present us.

So, too, I believe is the present case: not only because it's a fiction to which we can't return but also because of the forward historical imperative, Making American Great Again is not about going back to some mythical time but forward to a different and better reality than the one that we enjoy currently.

But change is hard, especially when power shifts accompany it.  In this case, America is becoming less white, less Christian and less supportive of the myriad -isms that have plagued our society since its inception.  But for many white, self-considered Christians prone to fear and thus to demonize The Other, a more diverse America in which they have to share power - or, God forbid, be in the minority - is not of interest.

In fact, it's to be resisted at virtually all costs.  How else can one explain the support of white Christians for a president who's behavior demonstrates virtually no familiarity with Christian principles whatsoever and whose economic policies disenfranchise them in ways that are likely to be long-lasting if not permanent?  How else can one explain the belief that "America first" trade policies will stem the decades-long tide of globalization and return high wage jobs to this country (even as that very same president's companies make all of their products sold in this country overseas because the wages in this country are [still/already] too high [or, more correctly, will reduce profit margins too much])?  How else can one explain a mystifying belief that the problem with our society is immigrants, the vast majority of whom are law abiding - more so than those white Christians, in fact - and who do jobs that white Christians long ago eschewed doing?  (If you doubt this last point, just google Alabama and North Carolina and their recent [disastrous] approaches to expulsion of immigrant agricultural workers to see just how far-fetched such a theory would have to be.)  How else ... well, you get the picture....

Let's face it, like the Afrikaners before them, white Christian Americans are worried about what happens when they no longer dominate this society ... and, truth be told, for good reason.  American history, whitewashed though it is, is replete with egregious examples of white Christian inhumanity, so the fear of payback is a most legitimate one ... except, again, for the reality of historical example, which shows, for instance, that there was no widespread retribution in the Republic of South Africa.

Again, I digress too eloquently....

So, to sum this up and keep it real/100, let's just put it this way:  America has been great throughout much of its history - let's acknowledge this - but only for some and decidedly not for all.  For far too many of us, we need to Make America Great for the First Time by holding it accountable to its professed creeds.  In so doing, we must fashion a world in which all of God's children of whatever hue, gender identity, religion, etc., can drink from the deep Well of Opportunity that this country can represent.  But until that day, we should all realize that the anger of the dispossessed exists on both sides of our ideological divide and that if this is not addressed deftly, the fabric of our society may tear irreparably.

So how do we keep this from happening, to prevent us from tearing ourselves apart forever?  There are many ways, but I'll focus on just a few:

First, let's commit to living by the Platinum Rule.  Beyond just treating each other as we ourselves would like to be treated - which is an egocentric, sub-optimal approach - let's commit to treating each other as these others want to be treated.  Among other things, this imposes a duty upon us to get to know each other well so that we can predict how our fellows want to be treated.  This may seem a huge leap - and it is - but it's solely in a forward direction.

Second, let's commit to respecting each other's religious beliefs and yet keeping them out of the public square.  I really don't care which of the paths to God you favor - or if you don't favor one at all - but I would like not to have you claim God's mantle to disadvantage me, which is how institutional religion - and especially institutional conservative Christianity - plays out in American society currently.  So, I'm glad your faith - or lack thereof - sustains you, but please stop trying to reflect your evangelism in the contours of the society in which I'm supposed to enjoy my freedom.

Third, let's commit to the commonweal, meaning that we'll be guided in our policy- and decision-making by the Greater Good.  Adverse impacts are real and too well targeted in our history, so we must acknowledge and address them if we are to go forward differently and better in the future.  And as we craft the ever evolving rules by which we interact and progress, let's be fair and equitable in our construction.  To an appreciable extent, this is a commitment to multi-faceted diversity and inclusion in that we want all of God's children to have a chance in life and to have access to opportunities that can enable individual and collective progress.  And this does mean all of God's children....

And fourth and finally, let's commit to reality and truth over mendacity and b.s.  Let's face it, the lies that we allow to be told in our society at present are fantastic and fantastically awful in that they limit our ability to make progress toward a more just and equitable society.  As hard as it may be, let's admit and address all of the -isms that still plague us by opening the doors of opportunity more broadly and by being vigilant in holding our elected representatives to this 'truth and reality, no b.s.' standard.  I realize that this is asking a lot of us - more, in fact, than we've ever asked of ourselves before - but our future depends on it.  Simply put, you can't build a strong foundation for the future on a fantastical cornerstone.  It, like our consciences, really must be able to bear the weight....

If we choose to disregard these suggestions - and many astutely developed ones that others have offered - then we do so at our increasing peril.  This tailspin of societal devolution that we're experiencing will only get worse unless we correct course soon and significantly.  The only remaining question is whether or not we have the will to do so, as the consequences of failure become clearer and more precipitous each day.

Bringing this meditation back to where it started, remember that Johnny is a winner in this game and yet largely disaffected.  Just imagine what happens when others like him join forces with those who are losing increasingly in our current societal structure.  History offers precedents for this, too: seems to me there was a revolution in this very country in the late eighteenth century when it was widely perceived that the structure of our society was oppressive.

To put it bluntly, unless we move in a different and better direction - one in which the Johnnys of our society are likely to go from angry to fiercely proud - then we will indeed experience the traumatic pain of failing to learn from history - our own, no less - and find to our horror that everything old indeed can be new again but not in a great way....

God gave Noah the rainbow sign,

No more water the fire next time.

 - Negro Spiritual "Mary Don't You Weep"