Political Darwinism

 

For the past five years or so, I have felt like I was living in the Twilight Zone.  With all of the science denying and ‘alternative facts’ which are pure fabrications and falsehoods, it seems like a large portion of our nation’s population has lost all sense of reality. Now, we face a resurgence of Covid 19 hospitalizations and deaths due to gross misinformation about the efficacy of the corona vaccines. This situation would be bad enough if it was merely the result of deceptive websites.  But ultra conservative news sources and elected government officials are contributing to the low immunization rates in our nation by echoing the nonsense.  We might as well just send the doses overseas to countries that would welcome them.

I have been fully vaccinated since April and feel personally protected from serious health consequences regarding the pandemic. Nevertheless, I am deeply concerned about the rest of our countrymen.  We have already matched the total number of deaths from the Spanish flu of 1918.  I wonder how many more deaths it will take for our citizens and political leaders to come to their senses.

As I was considering the situation recently, I had a revelation.  At this point, 99 percent of the people who are dying are those who are unvaccinated.  This is particularly critical in states with high numbers of politically conservative citizens.  The impact of this on the voting results in the fall elections of 2022 and beyond may be quite interesting.

Wouldn’t it be ironic if the efforts of conservative talk show hosts and legislators to promote the antivaccine movement actually reduce the Republican voting base and usher in sweeping wins for Democrat candidates in state and federal elections? Of course, death is not the only result of Covid infections.  Many Victims are left with long lasting health issues that are extremely debilitating.  It is possible that the voting restrictions being pushed through Republican controlled state legislatures may further reduce Republican voter participation due to hardships associated with mail in ballots.

Many white citizens are concerned about the shifting ethnic demographics in our nation.  It will be interesting to see if the reluctance to obtain vaccines results in a higher death rate among whites and an acceleration of the demographic transition to a greater non-white population. If so, conservative whites will have facilitated the very thing that they fear.

President Biden is receiving a great deal of criticism over the government’s door-to-door effort to promote vaccinations.  I wonder if it wouldn’t be prudent to restrict these efforts to communities where access to healthcare is limited and withdraw from those communities where there is active resistance to vaccination. It would be a shame to waste federal dollars on those who are opposed to this extraordinary effort by the government to save their lives.

Consider what is going on in the media.  Ultra-conservative commentators like Tucker Carlson and Laura Ingraham are encouraging the vaccination doubters and helping to perpetuate the death of more than 200 people daily.  If the Democratic Party had execution squads in the streets killing 200 Republican voters daily, law enforcement would be frantically attempting to end the slaughter and right-wing citizens would be demanding federal intervention.  However, media celebrities are accomplishing the same results with no apparent uproar from their conservative audience.

In recent days, some conservative political leaders have begun encouraging citizens to be vaccinated.  The speculation is that they do not want their political party to be associated with the alarming rise in infections, hospitalizations and deaths from Covid 19.  Is it possible that they have also recognized the potential impact on the size of their voting base?

There appears to be a profound evolutionary process at work.  Those who respect the scientific approach are taking advantage of the protection from the Corona virus that science offers. Meanwhile, the science doubters are leaving themselves vulnerable to this increasingly contagious and deadly virus.  It is almost as though nature is in the process of purging our species of those who are irrational. 

 

Convergence of History

 

I have always believed that the most important factor contributing to who we are is the way in which we conduct our individual lives. Certainly, our genetic makeup, how we were raised and events along our journey all contribute to who we have become. Nonetheless, we have the ability and responsibility to make meaningful decisions about who we are today.

Having made this basic affirmation, I share the widespread fascination with our genealogy.  When I was young, I was told about the Webster line of our heritage, and that I am related to Noah Webster, the editor of the original Webster’s Dictionary. Somehow, that has not influenced my ability to spell.  Honestly, I am very thankful for the spell check feature on my computer.

In 2011, my spiritual journey led me to Quakerism.  Even as a child, I knew that my maternal grandfather was a Quaker and remember seeing him sit and read his bible in the evening.  For some reason which I will never know, my mother did not follow in this tradition.  Instead, she embraced my father’s religion, Episcopalian.

At my first Quaker meeting, I had a deep sense of ‘coming home’.  As I have learned about the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), I have realized that I have always held a deep sense of their primary testimonies, simplicity, peace, integrity, community and equality.  Furthermore, I have been gratified by the role of Quakers in the abolition movement, underground railroad, women’s rights issues, peace movement and racial and social justice concerns.

My oldest son is quite interested in researching family heritage.  A few years ago, he informed me that our Quaker lineage through my mother’s line can be traced all the way back to the1600’s. It is very possible that my ancestors actually knew George Fox, the founder of the Quaker movement.

I find this fascinating but am not sure what to make of it.  Is it possible to inherit a religious persuasion?  I can’t imagine how.  I am more inclined to think that certain personality traits are genetic, and these may predispose us to be drawn towards particular social or spiritual perspectives.

In complete contrast to this is my paternal lineage.  Dad was born and spent the majority of his youth in Georgia.  Although there was never any talk of it, I always suspected that there had to be some rather unpleasant history there. 

I knew that my paternal grandfather had been a member of the KKK because Dad shared that when he was a young boy, my grandmother took him to a KKK march.  As he watched the procession, he recognized his father’s shoes protruding out from under his sheet and began to shout, “There’s Daddy!  There’s Daddy! I can see his shoes.”, His mother quickly tried to silence him because, although everyone knew who was in the march, the sheets and hoods were supposed to conceal their identity.

About ten years ago, I took a DNA test.  In light of my southern roots, I anticipated the possibility that I had at least a few African American genes floating around somewhere.     To my surprise, the only non-European genes were from the middle east and India.  I was thankful to discover that I wasn’t a total cracker.

More recently, I learned that there are documents indicating that my paternal ancestors were slave owners.  I will admit, I am mortified by this revelation.  I recognize that I am not personally responsible for their actions, but I am deeply grieved by them, nonetheless.

As I reflect on my heritage, it is quite interesting to consider the possibility that during the Civil War, my paternal ancestors were probably fighting to defend their presumed right to own slaves while my maternal ancestors may have been involved in aiding escaped slaves as they arrived in the north. If I had been raised in the south instead of in Maryland, would I be inclined to embrace my southern heritage?  Would I be waving a Confederate battle flag and protesting the removal of Confederate statues?  Instead, I wear a wristband which I designed that reads, “Black Lives Matter to Me.”

Each one of us really is a convergence of history.  We are a genetic soup of dominate and recessive characteristics that culminate into what we identify as ‘me’.  If we take the time to reflect on our origins and who we wish to be, it becomes possible to influence the direction of our lives and perhaps those who will follow after us.  My core belief is displayed at the bottom of each of my emails, “What humanity will be tomorrow depends on who we choose to be today.”

 

Death: The End Of Opportunity

 

Is there anything that you would like to accomplish but cannot seem to find the time to do it?  Is there any relationship that you need to reconcile? Our own death means the end of hopes, dreams, desires and possibilities.  The death of loved ones shuts the door on all of our unfulfilled intentions towards them.

As I age, I am increasingly mindful of this reality as it relates to the death of my parents. Looking back, I now realize that I was so busy dealing with my visual disability, raising a family and just trying to survive that I don’t believe I ever asked them about how my condition affected them personally.  They spent a great deal of money trying to provide me with training and an education in order to support myself, but I’m not certain that I ever took time to thank them.

When my mother passed away in February, 2005, my youngest sister and I began clearing a few things out of the attic and discovered three financial ledgers that had been kept by our maternal grandfather.  We began going through one volume that covered the time of the depression in the 1930’s.  Numerous questions arose but at that point, Mom was no longer there to provide any answers.

When my father died five years later, we completely emptied the attic.  A box of items belonging to my maternal grandmother was among the things we found.  In the box was a leather folding picture frame of a young sailor. I showed it to my youngest sister and said, “I wonder who this is”.

“I’ll bet that’s Oscar” she exclaimed.

“Oscar” I queried.  “Who in the heck is Oscar?”

She proceeded to tell me that he was a young man Mom was engaged to before she married Dad.  Well, as the saying goes, you could have knocked me over with a feather.  I had never heard about this guy before.  Apparently, that was a conversation reserved for girl talk between Mom and my two sisters.

And so, it has gone.  Time and again, I think of questions I would love to ask each of my parents, but those opportunities are gone forever.  I can only hope that my children and grandchildren are wiser than I have been and take time to ask their questions before I am no longer around to respond.

Due to the pandemic in the spring of 2020, I was required to suspend my massage practice for about seven weeks. One of the things I did to occupy my time was to write a brief memoire highlighting key events in my life.  I wanted to provide my sons and their families with a basic record of my journey.  So far, it has not sparked any inquiries from them.  Hopefully, it will help to fill in some of the gaps in the future.

I have been accused of being a workaholic.  If there is any truth in that, it is due to an abiding desire to fill my life with meaningful activities.  Frequently, when I am not engaged in physically doing something, I am reading, and it is generally a book that will increase my knowledge about a wide range of interests.

There is one opportunity that I have determined will not escape my full attention: I try never to end a visit, telephone call or email without telling my family members that I love them.  There may be numerous unanswered questions after I am gone, but whether or not I loved them will not be one of them.

Thank You, Dad

 

My father was a difficult person to know.  I was a young adult before I began to understand the source of his underlying anger and sullen personality. Born in December, 1918, he was an only child and spent his youth in a small farmhouse in rural Georgia with his epileptic father, domineering grandmother and, for a while, his mother.

As far as I can determine, when he was about eight years old, his mother was working as a waitress in a small local restaurant and ran off with a traveling salesman from Baltimore.  At thirteen, he overheard his grandmother say to his father, “You don’t even know if he is yours.”  According to his own words, he thought to himself, “Well, I know who my mother is” and determined to run away from home and join her in Baltimore.

At the height of the Depression in 1931, he snuck off to a nearby town where he sent a telegram to his mother and asked her to wire him $10 so he could take a bus to Baltimore.  Somehow, she managed to obtain the money, but upon his arrival she asked him, “Where did you think I was going to get that kind of money?”  It doesn’t seem like much to us today, but at that time it amounted to a week’s pay for most people if they were fortunate enough to have a job.

Dad did not share a great deal about his life in Baltimore.  I do know that my grandmother had remarried, and Dad had a strained relationship with his stepfather, Brook. Nevertheless, when WWII broke out, Dad’s plan to enlist in the Army Air Corp was threatened when he received a draft notice for enlistment in the regular Army, but Brook intervened by speaking to an acquaintance who was the director of the local draft board, enabling Dad to enter the military as an officer.

During the war, he served as a radar tech on B-29’s, first flying as a crew member from India in raids against Japan and later from the island of Tinian in the Pacific.  This was the base where the flights were launched that carried the atomic bombs to Japan.  I never thought to ask him about his feelings about those events, nor did he volunteer anything on his own.

It is impossible to say how much Dad’s personality was shaped by his childhood or influenced by his combat experience. I never saw him physically violent, but his temper was easily aroused with the slightest provocation.  I do not remember him having any friends or even hobbies.  In hindsight, I think he may have suffered from chronic depression.

He did not seem to enjoy interacting with people.  On several occasions, he mentioned how much he disliked Smalltalk. When he attended church with us, he would immediately go to the car after the service and generally fume over how long it took my very sociable mother to leave church.  Mom predeceased Dad by five years, during which time he could have been involved in an active senior program in his town, but he simply had no interest in associating with others.

He was extremely critical of what he perceived as weaknesses in others or any behavior of which he disapproved or did not understand.  The few times I heard him speak about his father, it was with distain about my grandfather’s tendency to sit in a chair with a shawl rapped around his shoulders due to his poor health.  He freely made disparaging remarks about anyone he disapproved of, including family members.

I have to give Dad a lot of credit for overcoming his personal challenges. Despite his gloomy disposition, he was generally courteous in public and was a hard worker.  He had a long career at the Social Security Administration near Baltimore, Maryland. For several years, he also had a parttime chiropractic practice in our home.

He may not have been the most pleasant person to be around at times, but he was completely devoted to our mother and to his role as provider.  My brother, sisters and I grew up in a very secure home.  Bills were always paid; food was always on the table and there was never any concern about addictions or violence.  In many ways, we were an ideal middle class family.

I am thankful for the way Dad handled my visual disability.  I have never been able to figure out whether his approach was due to wisdom or denial.  My limitation was simply never an excuse for failing to do my household chores or schoolwork. Consequently, I have always had high expectations for myself even as my vision has declined. Through the years, I have often amazed others and even myself by some of the things I have been able to accomplish.

Perhaps Dad’s greatest gift to me occurred unwittingly.  When I was about ten years old, our family went on a rare day trip to Ocean City, Maryland.  It was my first time in the ocean, so Dad instructed me about how to deal with the breakers.  He said that I should never turn my back on them or try to run.  If I did, they would just overpower me and take me under for a sandy and salty tumble. Instead, I should face them, and as they approached, simply dive through them.  It really worked!  What I discovered was that the force of the water would flow around, over and beyond me.

He intended this as a practical lesson, but I have expanded it into my strategy for   life.  I have learned that problems and challenges are only compounded when ignored or evaded.  For me, the proper response is to face the issue, develop a plan of action and press forward.  More often than not, that approach minimizes the impact and the time spent on dealing with it.

If he had presented this instruction as a philosophical maxim, I doubt I would have understood at my young age.  However, it obviously had a huge impact on me at multiple levels.  For that, I will be forever grateful.

After the death of our mother, Dad was more miserable than ever.  Periodically, when I would talk to him on the telephone, he would say, “I must have done something evil in my life.  I am still here.”  When I learned of his death in February, 2010, I was thankful on his behalf because he had been released from his apparent mental torment.  May he truly rest in peace.

What Do Blind People See?

 

Vision runs the gamut from super vision to total absence of sight.  To be classified as ‘legally blind’, a person’s visual acuity must be 20/200 or less in their best eye with the aid of conventional eyewear or their field of vision must be less than 20 degrees in their best eye with the aid of conventional eyewear.  More information about this is available at the American Foundation for the Blind at https://www.afb.org/blindness-and-low-vision/eye-conditions/low-vision-and-legal-blindness-terms-and-descriptions?gclid=CjwKCAjwz_WGBhA1EiwAUAxIcc_zUTzmjI5_IbkCjL8SWUiGJXmbB1d4R1z93SYuWl-MgXMso3FRYhoCAGQQAvD_BwE#LowVision_vs._LegalBlindness.

We know that normal visual acuity is 20/20, but what does that mean?  It refers to the fact that a person with normal vision can see things as clearly at 20 feet as other normally sighted individuals can see from the same distance. Many outstanding athletes have superior vision that may be as good as 20/10.  In other words, they can see things at 20 feet that others cannot see unless they are 10 feet away.

If someone’s vision is 20/200, they will need to be 20 feet away from something in order to be able to see it as well as a normally sighted person can see from 200 feet.  This is the minimal condition for legal blindness, but this limited definition does not take into account the numerous visual obstructions and distortions that are produced by various eye disorders. Approximately 15 percent of those effected are totally blind.  The remaining 85 percent see something even if it is nothing more than the ability to perceive light.

I have been dealing with macular degeneration since childhood.  Initially, I could simply not read what my teachers wrote on the blackboard.  Eventually I needed large-print books or magnifying glasses to read text.  Over the years my condition has gradually grown worse.  In the beginning, I was aware of a small blind spot in the center of my sight that prevented me from seeing details.    Progressively, that region has increased and obstructed greater portions of my field of vision.

At present, my world is a distortion of light and dark smudges in various shapes and sizes periodically overshadowed by bright defused clouds of light stemming from lamps, sunlight and other sources of illumination.  In familiar surroundings, I can generally interpret these images and navigate adequately.  In unfamiliar environments, it is just a senseless array of confusion.

While my physical sight is extremely limited, I see my mental challenges quite clearly.  Simply moving around my own home requires a great deal of concentration.  Imagine trying to drive along a winding mountain road in the dead of night with a heavy fog all around. Consider the relief you would experience upon reaching your destination. Similarly, when I crawl into bed at night, I am grateful to be able to close my eyes and simply rest.

When I misjudge a doorway, step or table, I often rediscover the laws of gravity and physics, It really is true that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Those events often generate feelings of anger, frustration and, quite frankly, humiliation.  No, I shouldn’t feel humiliated, but when my forehead or nose strikes the edge of an open door, I do, nonetheless.

I find that I have a strong need to feel useful.  Thankfully, I have been able to manage a moderately successful massage practice for the past eighteen years.  The hardest part is maintaining my schedule. The actual massage procedure comes easily to me because I depend so heavily on my sense of touch. 

I do what I can to help out around the house.  My loving wife offers guidance, expresses gratitude for my efforts and silently endures my blunders.  Thankfully, a significant amount of housework does not require much visual detail.  I can easily empty the trash, fold laundry, load and unload the dishwasher and feed our pets. I even manage to do a little cooking.

Like most people with disabilities, those with visual limitations see a wide range of social challenges.  I know a woman who is totally blind.  She sums up her experience at social events as “park her, feed her and leave her.”  I don’t get the impression that it really is a complaint on her part, merely an observation of reoccurring events.  I told her it sounds like a legal firm, but I know exactly what she means. 

Personally, I feel very comfortable with this approach.  Upon entering a social gathering, the first thing I want to do is find a place to sit down.  It takes me out of the flow around me and offers a sense of stability.  I like to eat, so I’m always thankful for a plate of food as long as it is easy finger food and doesn’t include dip, toppings, or anything else that is messy.

Furthermore, I don’t expect anyone to feel obligated to entertain me.  We are there for social interaction.  It would be selfish for me to expect my wife or anyone else to babysit me.  I am generally quite content to listen to the conversations I overhear. Depending on the size and setting of the event, I occasionally am able to join in.

Engaging in dialog in a restaurant or large gathering is challenging.  Sighted people have numerous visual cues to aid in the interaction.  Facial expressions, body language, hand gestures and the ability to watch the movement of lips as people talk all supplement what is being said even when the voices may not be fully heard.  Without those cues, much of the interaction is easily missed.

In small groups, I try to engage in conversations.  I am aware that I occasionally commit social gaffes, but my friends are quite understanding about that.  In larger settings, I prefer to remain quiet and avoid misdirecting the dialog.

Communication is often awkward for those who are blind, but it is also challenging for those with limited experience interacting with people who have disabilities.  Is it appropriate to say, “It’s good to see you?”  Of course, it is, and I will probably say the same.  For a sighted person, the expression may be literal.  For me, it is figurative.

In restaurants, food servers are notorious for taking orders from everyone in the dining party and then gesturing toward one who is disabled and asking the rest of the group, “What does he/she want?”  In those situations, my wife often says, “Honey, she is ready for your order.”  In one restaurant we frequented, she told the server my name so that she could direct her questions to me personally.

I see myself as an educator.  For those who don’t know how to engage with people who are blind, I try to kindly inform them so they will be able to do better in the future.  Frequently in medical offices, I ask aides to allow me to take them by the elbow so they can lead me to a treatment room.    In subsequent visits, I often find that they take the initiative to offer their elbow without me having to ask.

 

I think that most people want to be helpful but aren’t sure what to do or how to act.  My task is to supply that information in a way that will encourage their natural tendency.  Being angry or belligerent will only make them want to run in the opposite direction the next time they encounter someone with a disability.

Perhaps the most important thing that blind people are ideally suited to see is a lesson that has been taught by most spiritual leaders over several millennia:  who individuals are is far more important than how they appear.   Certainly, we are capable of being superficial in other ways, but jewelry, apparel, facial features and body shape are less likely to influence our initial perceptions about those we encounter or distract us from personal development.  Thankfully, physical limitations do not restrict one’s effort to nurture a meaningful inner life.  Conversely, fashion and beauty are multi billion dollar industries that too often mask severely damaged souls.  This is one area where blindness might actually be a blessing.

What do blind people see?  Physically, that varies widely based on the nature and severity of the visual disorder.  In life, we see how demanding things can be in order to attain even a moderate level of success.  Within ourselves, we see whether we possess the courage and determination to prevail. Mentally, creatively, socially, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually our perceptions are 20/20 and, for some, perhaps 20/10.