BLM and Defunding the Police Part One

There is so much going on in the world today. Just about anything from the upcoming election to COVID-19 is a good topic to put under a microscope and really look at and talk about, but today, I want to talk about Black Lives Matter (BLM), more so about the literal and not the group and about Defunding the Police. This blog post will be part one and focus on Black Lives Matter.

Please remember, these are my thoughts and opinions and you are in no way obliged to agree. 

Let's start with the term black lives matter. They do you know. They always have, but in our current world, BLM has taken on a new militant meaning and to mention that any other lives might also matter is condemned as hate speech. So for the purpose of getting a few of my opinions and thoughts out there, I am only going to discuss the literal term black lives matter along with a few facts.

The term BLM, as I stated above, has taken on a militant stance against the police and law enforcement. Much has to do with racial profiling and the deaths of black individuals by police. It is not however, just about black people dying or racism in police departments. Black lives matter, because they are human lives. They are men, women and children of all ages and it is not just about their mortality, but also about the quality of their lives, the opportunities they have, their livelihoods and the character of black African Americans.

Have blacks had an easy time in American history? No. It's a simple answer. They were taken from their homes and brought to the United States for one purpose....to be slaves. They were used as field labor, house maids and sex slaves. Many were treated with less dignity than a farm animal and their lives were viewed as expendable because they were seen as property and not as humans. Did black lives matter back then? To much of the North they did, but even back then, not all blacks were treated equally.

In the mid 1800's there were approximately 180 slave owners who themselves were black. Most if not all had also been slaves but had been freed and became more prosperous than those who were still owned. The sad part is that of those 180ish black slave owners, there were black men like William Ellison, a former slave who had prospered and soon realized to continue in prosperity, he needed slaves to help him. Unfortunately, coming from a slave background himself, did not make him a kind and benevolent slave owner. While he was likely more compassionate than his white counterparts, he still made sure his slaves knew he was the master and he kept his distance from those of black skin who worked for him. Did black lives matter to him? Good question.

As time went on, even post Civil War race relations remained tense, especially in the South, and blacks and whites were segregated in every way possible. It pretty much stayed this way until the late 1950's and into the 1960's when the Civil Rights Movement became political, humanistic and spiritual for both blacks and many whites who were realizing that skin color meant nothing. It was the character of a human being that mattered.

The Civil Rights marches of the 1960's did have their moments of anger and frustration, but they were a proud time for black Americans. Men and women dressed in suits and dresses, held their heads high and walked the streets proclaiming that they would no longer sit at the back of the bus, have their children going to segregated schools or be treated like second class citizens because they were black. There were eloquent, history making speeches made by Dr. Martin Luther King, Medgar Evers and other prominent black figures of the day and people were listening. Change was coming and the blacks of the 1960's were being heard, not because they were rioting and destroying, but because they were the change they wanted to see. Was it easy for them? No and many lost their lives for the cause, but at the end of the day, they fought for peace, unity and equality...and they were beginning to win the fight.

Race relations have always had their highs and lows and quite frankly, there are people of all colors that hold prejudice in their heart regardless of how far the rest of the world comes. There are fringe instigators of all colors that will continue to keep race an issue and a tool of division because that is who they are. But they are a minority of any group, not the majority. Unfortunately, sometimes the minority of a group puff themselves up so big and become so loud, that we forget just how small they really are and give them undo credit for being much bigger.

In 2008, the first black president was elected into office.....President Barrack Obama. Not only was he black, but he was also mixed race and part white. On paper, he should have been the greatest unifier our country ever had as he had some understanding what it was like to be on both sides of the color spectrum. In 2008, racial tensions were not that high, but by the time he left office, they had taken new heights. Instead of uniting we were a nation divided by color in a way that had not been seen since the 1960's. It was also during his presidency that the group BLM was founded. It became a time when there was a huge uprising of rioting, killing and destroying by blacks in black communities. A match had been struck and rather than be a peacemaker, the President whether it was intentional or otherwise, fanned the flames of rage and the country exploded.

Now here we are in 2020. We are literally sitting on a powder keg that if it goes off, could put us into the throws of another civil war. How? Why? I have my suspicions, but lets deal in facts. George Floyd.

George Floyd was a black man with a history of drug abuse, theft and holding a pregnant woman at gunpoint. He was not a saint, but he was a man and he died a cruel and unnecessary death at the hands of police in front of many many witnesses. It was the spark that set off a "war" that will likely make future historians look back on us and shake their heads.

In the wake of George Floyds death, he suddenly became the martyr for the BLM movement. He was not squeaky clean and he had been on the wrong side of the law, but within days, his criminal history didn't matter, only his death did. Since then, cities have been destroyed, communities have been destroyed, historical monuments have been destroyed and the lives of police have been put in danger in a way never before seen. Gone are the days of class, pride and eloquence in protesting and now we are in full on blood in the streets rioting. Why? Because BLM! Now this is where I say that yes, I support the lives of blacks but I do not support the movement/organization of BLM because I find it hypocritical.

I have been told by those that are black and those that support BLM that one of their main goals is to push back on police. They want police held accountable for all the black lives they have taken in the past and they demanded justice against the police officers who were involved with Floyds death, but when the officers were arrested, that was not justice enough. They shout "black lives matter" everywhere they go and they want the focus on black lives....so let's put it there and ask some questions.

The number of blacks killed by police in the United states is not as high as the number of whites. But let's take everyone but blacks out of the equation. Is there racial bias in the police force? I am sure there are bad and racist cops that have no business being cops, but those are the few. So in 2019, 235 black people were killed by cops. How many of those black people were criminals? How many of the cops involved were black themselves? How many of the "victims" fired on cops first? How many of them had killed others or would have killed again? Yes, those black lives mattered but rather than blame 235 deaths on police, I can't help but wonder how many of those 235 brought their deaths on by their own actions? We don't have white laws and black laws. We have laws and we have a majority of cops who uphold those laws to protect people of all colors. When the choice is made to break those laws, the consequences are not the law breakers to choose.

Then I have to ask, if black lives matter, then why is the focus only on black deaths caused by police?  According to the Chicago Tribune, in 2020 alone, so far 432 people have died in just Chicago. Of that number, 308 have been black and have ranged in age from less than a year old to elderly. The most black fatalities take place on the South and West sides of the city which are predominantly black and were black on black killings. They are mostly gang and drug related, and this is just one city this year. City's like St. Louis, Atlanta, Los Angela's and New York have their own similar statistics. So....if black lives truly matter to the BLM movement, then why aren't they focused on these numbers? Why aren't they out there walking through the streets of their own neighborhoods and demanding better from others in their communities, because I promise you, for every black life lost, they were someones child, parent, aunt, uncle, grand child, spouse or friend and their lives mattered immensely to those who loved them.

Some more questions. If black lives matter to the movement, then why did the movement allow their protesters to go into black communities and riot, destroying businesses and homes and stealing from the very communities that they live in? Do only those dead by cop, lives matter? What about the very much alive black lives, who no longer have a place to live, shop or work, because the BLM movement destroyed it all? Does the black mother with three kids not matter, now that her home is burned out? Does the black grocer who has spent his life building his business to watch it destroyed and looted not matter? So which black lives matter? Shouldn't all black lives matter and not just the ones that you can sensationalize with an agenda?

And finally, if black lives matter, why are so many of the protesters white? Why are white kids who have no idea what it is like to struggle as a black person, starting to be the face of your movement? Why are you allowing white ANTIFA members who have no loyalty to the black community and who have their own agenda which has nothing to do with black lives, to instigate, deflect and take the focus away from racism and put it on furthering division and hate in our country?

In truth, black lives do matter to me. I want our society corrected so that all humans regardless of color are treated equally and with respect. The fact is we can't change the past, but we can make sure it doesn't repeat itself going forward, but it is not just white people that need to fix this.I don't want to think of a mother or grandmother, sister, brother, child or spouse of any color suffering over the loss of someone they loved due to senseless inter-community killings. Much work needs to be done on all fronts but facts cannot be ignored. Either ALL black lives matter or they don't and if you want true change.....you have to take responsibility instead of constantly placing blame and hiding behind a hypocritical movement, so that you can be the change you want to see.

So these are my thoughts, my opinions and some facts thrown in. There is much wrong in this world and nothing will ever change unless we all work towards that change. Change doesn't start with hate and nothing good ever came from hate. To change, we must listen, hear and take responsibility and then and only then will the world become a better place.

Part Two on BLM and Defuding the Police.....will be coming soon. 

Maskers vs. Anti-Maskers

Happy "almost" 4th of July!!!!

Tomorrow we will be celebrating Independence Day. Well....in theory anyway. Most of us are feeling anything but "independent" and after what has been going on in our government and with the citizens of our country, many also find little to be proud of. Basically we have all lost our damn minds and if proof is needed, just look at social media.

So today, I am going to talk......masks...or what I like to call maskers vs. anti-maskers.  

In my state, our governor "mandated" that as of midnight last night, masks were going to be mandatory in public places. It was then pointed out that the governor did not really hold the power to "force" this decision, so it turned into she "highly suggested" that masks be worn in public places. In essence, she really can't "force" masks to be worn, but she did empower businesses to reject services to customers who do not wear masks. It also became a situation where since there was a great deal of blow back on the mask "suggestion" that the counties started deciding whether they would try to enforce the mandate or not. Our county decided that they would stick with "suggest" since the police had already made a statement that they would not be enforcing, arresting or even acknowledge calls that pertained to mask wearing. Can you blame them? We are in the middle of summer, the highest crime rate time anyway, and because of this mandate they are now going to be inundated with Karen Calls about people not wearing masks.

So where do I stand on the subject? Usually about 6 feet (or further if possible) away from people whether they are wearing a mask or not. I am not a fan of people right now....mask or no mask. I also do a lot of heavy sighing and eye rolling when I see the ridiculousness of what I see on the news and in social media with the maskers vs the anti-maskers.

I do kind of see this from both sides, as fear has been a powerful media tool in the pushing of masks and apparently fear leads a lot of peoples lives. Who knew?  On the other hand, I completely understand the desire to not want to have your face covered when it is 100 degrees outside. Especially when reputable sources on both sides, doctors, scientists and even the CDC have said one thing and then changed it time and time again in the last few months. What we know about this virus is.......we apparently don't know! What I know about this virus is.....I am not going to stop living my life nor am I going to live my life in fear. Like me or hate me.....I don't really care. I guess I am just a rebel like that.

So today I went to Walmart. I hate going to Walmart, especially the day before a holiday weekend. The stars aligned just so though, and today was the day I got to go. Now, I have not been wearing a mask much, but I do carry one with me, as I am not going to disrespect a business if they want me to wear one on their premises. If I don't want to wear a mask, then I don't need to do business there, but if I need their services, then I have enough respect to abide by their wishes.

I truly expected today, with the "suggestion" in place, that I would not be allowed in Walmart without a mask. I was amazed though at the hoards of people shopping along with no masks. Yes, there were slightly more people wearing masks than usual, but there were just as many if not more, without. Because I wanted to get in and get out without incident and because there were soooooo many people in the store, I did actually wear my mask going in. However, after about 10 minutes with the heat, humidity and so many people, I had to take my mask off. My glasses kept fogging up, I was getting a horrible headache and my mask was literally getting wet from the humidity....in the store. I gave up.

I did my shopping without incident and as I was leaving I heard an interesting conversation. The lady who stands at the exit was of course, wearing a mask and an older gentleman and his wife who were also wearing masks, walked up to her and thanked her for wearing the mask. She told them, your welcome but that it was mandatory for all employees to wear one. Then he asked why they were allowing customers to walk around without masks on. She told him that it is Walmart's policy, that they cannot refuse service to anyone whether they are wearing a mask or not and they cannot ask someone to put a mask on. Interesting. So that explained a lot. There are obviously some businesses worried about the economics of this whole virus thing.

Now don't get me wrong. I am not going to get into a knock down drag out over a stupid mask.If it is a business requirement I will do it without comment. If however, I have a choice, you are going to see my naked face every time. Sound funny? Maybe, but that is just me.

Is the virus real? Yes of course it is. There are though, I believe, many "facts" about this virus that are not real. I refuse to argue about it though. Why? Because I could argue with a wall and get further than I can with a masker. When someone acts based in fear, there is no getting through that barrier of fear and resistance and I am not even going to waste my time trying. Life is just too short. I am however, going to go on with my life as simply as possible. I will carry a mask with me and I will wear one where it is required to do business. Every place else, I will social distance, not because I am told to, but because I have always done that.

Bottom line, if you choose to wear a mask, I have no problem with that and you will get no argument from me on your choice...because frankly....it is none of my damn business how you choose to live your life. I also will not argue with you on my choice to wear or not to wear one, because frankly....it is my choice and none of your damn business how I choose to live my life.

I can think of no better way of ending this than with this video of the Star Spangled Banner. Perhaps you will learn something you didn't know.

Grief: You Are Going to Feel How You Feel Until You Don't Feel that Way Anymore

As I write this, in this moment, it has been 19 years, two hours and 55 minutes since the last time I saw you, hugged you, kissed you and said "I love you," to you. For those doing the math, that is 228 months, approximately 912 weeks, somewhere around 6,939 days and right around 166,552 hours. Broken down even further....that is real close to 9,993,201 minutes since last I was walking out the door, not knowing that in an instant, my world was going to change forever.

I break this down in such a way, because over time, sometimes the months and weeks have passed quickly with the business of life taking over and sometimes, the loss has been so painful and so excruciating that it feels like life has stopped and it has been all I can do to get thru the next minute. I guess this is simply the nature of grief.

On July 2, 2001, at about 7:30 in the morning, I kissed my husband, told him I loved him and walked out the door to take my mom to a doctors appointment. My mind was on the news of her health that we might hear that day and little else. Other than that, it was a normal summer day and not for a second did I think it would be anything else, but by 1:00 that afternoon, my life would be shattered, my heart would be irreparably broken and nothing from that moment on, would ever be the same in my life again, because at 1:00 p.m. was the time I came home to find that my husband had suddenly and unexpectedly dropped dead of a brain aneurysm.

I had lost people before Tim, and I have lost people since, but with the exceptions of my mother a year after, and my baby daughter many years earlier, no death has ever taken from me or affected me like his. It was losing Tim that taught me about falling completely apart and then eventually finding my way back to life. It taught me about abject loss and then slowly seeing the blessings that surround every tragedy in life. Most of all, it taught me about the beauty of grief and the strength and purpose that can come when you begin to move on with gratitude.

Skipping ahead to this year (2020), there has been a great amount of loss in my world. Some have been by extension of those I care about, and some have hit me right in the heart, leaving another piece  of my heart, wounded and bleeding. Those wounds never completely go away. The best we can hope for is that they scar, leaving us a permanent reminder of who we loved and what we lost. Maybe it is because of all that has been lost this year that I felt the need to write this and since I woke up very early today with Tim on my mind, I write this in his honor.

If you make it out of childhood, there is an overwhelming probability that at some point you will lose someone you love and depending on just how long you live in this world, the chances are even better that you will lose several in your lifetime. The fact is, no matter how many times we lose those we love, the grieving process will happen and it will always be different. Grief is not a one size fits all occurrence and if anyone tells you differently, then they likely haven't dealt with a lot of loss.

Yes, there are stages of grief that we all tend to go through, but we all don't go through them the same way and we don't all go through all the stages. When I lost Tim, I went from hysterical to complete calm in a matter of minutes. The "knowledge" of his death in those first few minutes, knocked the wind completely out of me. I felt as if I was living in a nightmare and I was begging to wake up. I remember screaming and then there was the realization that I was a mom and I had young children that were more lost than I was. I then became calm, in an almost auto-pilot kind of way, and I began to organize and give direction as if I had to clean up and control the situation.

In those first few hours, life went by quickly in a slow-motion kind of way. There were things to do, questions to answer and a never ending line of people coming in and out helplessly wanting to help. I remember in the moment I was so grateful they were there, but at the same time I couldn't focus or even comprehend reality, so I was just blank inside. Again....auto-pilot.

The days that followed were non-stop. People continued in and out, making arrangements that I never planned to make and making decisions that I had no idea how to make. All of this was going on, along with the fact that I still had kids. I had to be a mom and help these children who looked to me for guidance, to get through something that I didn't have a clue about getting through. All I wanted to do was crawl in bed and not move, not think and not feel, but instead.....I had no choice but to keep moving and keep answering questions and making decisions.

It was nearly a week of everything but the kitchen sink being thrown at me. There were people in and out and in a funny sort of way, it felt as if a new normal had set in. Then there was the funeral. There were faces, kindness, me trying hard to look as if I was still me, when somewhere inside I knew that the me that left the house on July 2nd was gone forever as surely as if I had taken my last breath the moment he did.

Then it was over. Tim was buried. All who had come to say good-bye, left. They all went back to their lives and I was left alone, raising kids and having to figure out what each minute going forward was suppose to look like. I was angry for the first time. No I was not angry at Tim, because I always knew that Tim would have never left if that had been his choice. I was also not angry at God. I was raised to understand that none of us is guaranteed in this world and none of us leaves this world until the moment that we have accomplished everything we were meant to accomplish. No....my anger was at the world. I was so mad that everyone got to go home and resume their regular lives. How could this be? How could everyone else just go back to business as usual, when my life had virtually stopped?

I don't know for how long the anger lasted, but I do know that it took a toll on who I was as a person and my relationships with those around me. Some days I would force myself to get up and be a semi-functioning human being for the sake of my kids and some days I just barely functioned. It was a mixture of grief, guilt and anger. I could barely talk to people, even those closest to me, because I was seething with anger at them. I did not want to hear and see how they were going to work, enjoying their summer and doing the many mundane, everyday things that make up life, while I was caught up in a weird place where I had to exist but couldn't move from the pain that held me in place. It got to the point where I didn't answer the phone or the doorbell and the only time I left the house was out of necessity. Looking back now, I can't tell you whether this period in time lasted weeks, months or years, but even today, if I think about it, I can come back to a touch of that dark emptiness that filled me during that time. It was suffocating and I remember wondering if I would always feel that way and if I would survive. All these years later....I have those answers. No....I would not always feel that way and yes....I would survive.

At some point, the wound in my heart began to heal a bit and start to scar. As harsh as the old saying, "Life goes on" is, it is true. Those left behind after a loss, have no choice but to fall back into life and eventually start living again. No, that life didn't look much like the life I had previously, but slowly not only was my heart starting to heal a bit, but so was my mind. The anger slowly subsided and I began to be very grateful for those people who even in my darkest moments when I refused to let them in, stood by me. I was blessed to have some people in my life that loved me enough to give me time and not turn their backs on me. I also began to see the positive in the negative. Yes, I had lost Tim, but the blessing was that I had ever had him at all. I began to see that Tim and I had put a lot of love and happiness in our short years together. We had more in our few years than some people have in decades of marriage. He had given me kids who were constant reminders of his heart and soul and each time I looked at them, I saw him. In time I came to realize that Tim had been a gift and our time together had been something special that God reserved for only the two of us. Tim had given me love, a life, children, joy, laughter and strength. In a very real way, while he was alive, Tim gave me what I needed to survive when he died.

After Tim died, I learned that as much as he changed my world and my life with his presence, he also changed so many others. There was a period of time, when out of the blue, I suddenly had people coming to me and telling me what he had done for them at work or in a passing moment in their lives. I learned of people he had encouraged, gone to bat for or helped in some way. I heard stories of how his kindness, strength and humor had changed peoples lives and it validated what I already knew. Tim had not left this world without doing exactly what he was put here to do. I was so grateful in this knowledge.

Once the healing seemed to be fully underway, a new normal had set in. I could go several hours without feeling alone or missing his voice, but grief is a strange thing and it doesn't let go easily. I remember driving one day and a song came on the radio. It was "The Dance," a song that had been a favorite of Tim's and had been played at his burial, and that song tore through me like a grenade. It literally took my breath away and made me have to pull off the road. Tears flooded me and I cried like I hadn't cried since the day he died. I was angry and frustrated that after all this time, I could still be brought to my knees by of all things....a song. Once the tears subsided though, I actually felt better and the healing continued on. This however, was not the last time over the years that I would be brought down out of the blue and I am sure, even at this stage of the game, it can still happen under the right and unexpected circumstances.

I think of all the things that I have gone through in my grieving process, the most startling, sad, beautiful and reassuring gift though, has been my dreams. Over the years, there have been several and when I wake up, I am left feeling beautifully sad. In those dreams, Tim always comes to me and lets me know that he is always with me. His visits to my dreams always come at a time when I am struggling and his presence is comfort and the dream stays with me long after I am awake. I still am blessed to have these from time to time and I have come to see them as a spiritual extension of his life.

Today, all these years, months, weeks, days and minutes later, the grieving process still continues on, but it is not the devastation of those early days. Today, it is a smile when I see a picture or a tear when a memory hits me full on. It is a subtle ache instead of a searing pain and it is an understanding that while the loss was painful, if given the chance, I would do it all again because he was my person. He was my love and he gave me so much and that pain was just a reminder of how much I loved and how lucky I was to have him in my life.

So if I were ever to give someone any advice on grief, I would simply say, don't let anyone tell you how you are "supposed" to do it. Grief and grieving are personal and as I said earlier, not all grief is created equally. It is a process in which there are no real rules and no shortcuts. As Tim used to say, "You are going to feel how you feel, until you don't feel that way anymore." Today I feel grateful. I was blessed that God gave me Tim and I am grateful that I see his light continue on in our kids.

Tim Elam

Sept. 20, 1961 to July 2, 2001