Saying thank you

I try to make a point of saying thank you to service workers whenever I can. That includes shuttle bus drivers, MBTA drivers, janitors, the public works people who fix the street signals, and the kid who bags my groceries. They do work that makes my life easier. Many of them make very little pay and often deal with rude people. I admit that I do not make it a habit of thanking elected officials unless I've worked with them on some issue or legislation. They are in positions of power and I feel it is their duty to do their jobs well.

I'm wondering, however, if that should change. I wonder whether extending our appreciation for doing the right thing, particularly in the face of personal or public pressure to do otherwise, would relieve the pressure to do the wrong thing.

I starting thinking about this after hearing about the apparent suicide of Middlesex Sheriff James DiPaola. I did not know DiPaola personally. I never worked with his office. Like everyone else, I was shocked to hear of his suicide.

DiPaola had just decided to resign as Middlesex County Sheriff after the Boston Globe made public his attempt to take advantage of a loophole in the law would have allowed him to take his state earned pension while also earning his salary as the Sheriff. He was also under investigation for allegedly campaign finance impropriety. By most accounts, this investigation was for fairly minor offenses. Despite just winning re-election by a considerable margin, he chose to resign so that he would not be known as the person who double-dipped.

In a state that is awash in news stories of official corruption of the highest order, DiPaola's decision to resign showed that there are still people with integrity in our system. Stories that have come out afterwards describe a person who believed in treating others with dignity, who believed in reform over punishment, and who was generally an all around good person.

After reading about his decision to resign, I thought to myself, "I should write him a letter thanking him for putting the dignity of his office ahead of his own personal gain." I admire individuals who have the strength of character to publicly admit a mistake and act to address it. I wanted him to know that. But I never wrote that letter. Now, I do not for one second believe that if I had done so he would be alive today. I am not that powerful. But I do believe that if more people had done something like that for DiPaola and others like him, throughout his career and in this recent period of stress, perhaps the burdens that weighed on him would be that much less.

So, I would like to take this opportunity to thank elected officials who do the right thing even if it means losing your seat. This includes Wisconsin Senator Russ Feingold. This includes any of those members of Congress who vote to allow the service of openly gay individuals, as well as those who vote in favor of the DREAM Act. This includes members of the state legislature that voted against the recent anti-immigrant policies. And for those members of the Boston City Council who vote not to expel Chuck Turner. Yes, he was convicted of taking $1000 from an FBI informant. But we all know that Turner does not have a corrupt bone in his body. He may not be all that competent when it comes to campaign finances, but we all know he was not bribed. I understand the need for rules, including the one that requires that the Council evaluate whether he is fit to serve. But rules without exceptions are never just.

Perhaps if we thanked elected officials for doing the right thing they may actually do the right thing more often.

I love my life

I love living in a city.

I love that people do actually give money to subway performers.

I love having heat in my house.

I love that people help moms with their strollers on the stairs of the subway stations.

I love that I can drink alcohol and not have to drive home.

I love that I have students who begin to see their own potential.

I love that, if I need to, I can walk to the supermarket and get my sick husband orange juice.

I love that my friends can have a completely different worldview than I have, and we can still be friends.

I love seasons.

I love books. Real books. The ones that I can write in.

I love that my sisters take care of each other. And can forgive each other.

I like chocolate. Dark chocolate, mainly. I don't love chocolate. But I love my friends. And chocolate with my friends is the best.

And now for something different

I went to the funeral services of my good friend's father today. He was a well-known, and well-loved, man. Suffice to say that it was a large event. It had been a while since I had been to a Catholic funeral service and I was struck by two things. First, that I still remember all of the prayers and even the songs despite the fact that I stopped being a practicing Catholic more than 15 years ago. Once a Catholic....

I was also struck by the emphasis on the Catholic faith throughout the service. Perhaps this has something to do with the place the Church finds itself in right now, with scandals occurring left and right, and the faithful leaving in droves. Or, perhaps I just never heard it in the few funeral masses I've gone to. Whatever the reason, I listened to the prayers with 15 years of intervening experience and a greater willingness to hear things out and think things through. There was one line that I kept ruminating on because it both symbolized one of the many reasons I decided to stop going to Church, but also where I can make my peace with it.

The line was from John 11:25-26, which says, in part:

...I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die...

This, and other similar passages have always bothered me because it implies that whoever follows a different faith is not in God's good graces. Many Christians, including the Church, actually believe this. However, I believed that this interpretation contradicts John 10:16:

I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold.

This implies that there are many ways of faith, many paths to God. Belonging to one flock does not determine entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven. I prefer this view of faith, rather than the other. I refuse to believe that God is the stereotypical bureaucrat that refuses you entrance because you didn't fill out the right form. My God is a thoughtful and compassionate God (which of course makes my God very different than other Christian Gods).

How, then, to reconcile the two? We all know that the books of the Bible, even those by one "author" were cobbled together somewhat higgledy-piggedly like. We also know that the stories told were chock full of metaphors and fables that require interpretation (at least for those of us who do not believe in the literal meanings of words interpreted several times over two millenia). However, if you are a person of faith, you must try to reconcile seeming contradictions with what you've got. So, here's my interpretation: If you believe that Jesus is also God,then these lines of the Gospel of St. John should be interpreted as, "If you believe in God, even if you die, you will live."

During the services, this was interpreted as, "you shall continue to live in the Kingdom of Heaven." However, I believe there is more to this. Whatever happens to your soul after death, it is through the living that you continue to live. So I would extend this interpretation in this manner:

If you believe that God is knowledge and that God is love, and if you believe in God, then you must believe in both knowledge and love. I would argue that it is impossible to believe in both knowledge and love without sharing it. You cannot hoard knowledge and love if you truly believe in God. And it is through your sharing of your knowledge and your love that you continue to live on in others.

There is no doubt that Dr. Joseph Warren was a man of faith. But he was also a scholar and an educator; a man who sought knowledge and shared it. And he did so with the deep love of his fellow human beings that you see in people who truly believe and have faith in God. I do not pretend to know what will happen to Dr. Warren's soul, or whether he will fare well in judgment by his God. But I take comfort that his belief in God made him the scholarly educator, the passionate advocate and activist, and the loving man that he was. And because of this, he will continue to live on in those whom he touched.

Subtle bigotry of expectations

This week, the Northwestern District Attorney in Massachusetts indicted 9 teenagers for several criminal violations that led to the suicide of a student in South Hadley. There is the expected, and necessary, hand wringing and soul searching that accompany such events in small towns. The suicide occurred some months ago and the extensive bullying endured by the young girl was quickly exposed. Initially, the focus was on e-bullying, although the recent indictment reveals that there was a fair amount of traditional, face-to-face bullying. It was also revealed that some school officials and staff were aware of, and even witnessed the bullying, but did nothing to stop it or provide support for the young girl.

In today's report on the matter, I took note of the following quote:

This happens in other areas, not here.

Indeed, this is exactly the kind of thing that happens in "here" in these small, middle income suburban towns. The Boston Globe found that middle schools in suburban school districts had surprisingly high rates of violence, confiscation of weapons, and sexual harassment.

What I find interesting in all of this is difference in reaction to these problems between the primarily white and middle class/wealthy suburbs and the city. While there was an early and sustained cry for justice for the victim, when indictments were handed down, the idea of criminal punishment seemed too harsh for some. Some questioned whether this was even appropriate.

We’re not talking about whether these kids should be punished in some normal fashion or be thrown out of school. We’re talking about whether they should have criminal records or possibly go to jail.

My question is: is it inappropriate because of who these kids are, or because of the crimes they've committed? And can you reconcile that answer with the fact that hundreds of Boston area (read: black, African-American, Latino, and poor) students each year have been sent to jail for offenses significantly less extreme than criminal stalking and violations of civil rights, as the South Hadley 9 are now charged with.

It is my view that suburbanites have different standards for themselves than for those of us who live in the city. Exceptionalism is a sentiment widely held by privileged suburbanites, the vast majority of whom are white and at least middle class. Suburbanites are quick to turn a blind eye to the zero tolerance policies that have resulted in urban children, primarily non-white and poor, from being treated in exactly the same way as the nine indicted this week - if they were lucky. And yet, when their children are found to have been criminally stalking and violating the civil rights of one of their own, the punishment is somehow not normal. In this case, in this place, the crime is not so egregious to require this level of punishment. Indeed, what these kids did is really normal adolescent behavior. And the people to blame are not the 16-18 year olds who stalked this young girl, but the teachers and school officials who did not do anything to stop it. And the parents. Let's not forget the parents of this isolated case of extreme bullying.

But, of course, that is different than the youth who commit crimes in the city. They should be held responsible for their behavior. Even if what they have done is normal adolescent behavior, like smoking pot. Because that is illegal. They deserve their criminal records. Our teens are different. Our kids do not do things like this. This kind of thing only happens over there. Some place else. A place that is comprised of people who are not like us. Bad people. Not people like us. Our kids deserve to live with their shame privately. They do not deserve criminal records.

Beyond hope

I am certainly excited over the passage of the health care reform bill this week. I will feel much better when the reconciliation bill, with the necessary changes, is passed and signed. It's about time that this country started moving down a path towards true civilization.

With that said, there is a lot of uncertainty that prevents me from feeling the kind of elation that I thought I would have felt. My feelings are captured perfectly by these lines from the poem "we are running" by Lucille Clifton:

oh pray that what we want
is worth this running,
pray that what we’re running
toward
is what we want

The reform is imperfect, we all know that. There are at least two general directions I can see this going. The imperfections can be used to foster more discontent among the fear-filled bigots (especially among those who believe that our president is a socialist, marxist, communist Muslim). As much as I would like to ignore these folks, fear is a great motivator for getting people out on election day. And complacency keeps folks home. Juxtapose the two in any given election and you get Scott Brown elected to the Congressional Senate. Every increase in reactionary, right wing ideologues there are in policymaking positions, the greater the chance that this much needed reform is repealed, or worse, crafted to not work.

Or we can insist that the imperfections be monitored closely, rooted out, and fixed. Ask the question "what would make this fail" so that we can identify those "unforeseen" consequences and then proactively address them.

We can be sure that those who oppose this reform for whatever reason are prepared to do whatever it takes to repeal or cripple it. If the last year has shown us anything, it is that we must move beyond hope. We must act. Act to rebut the misinformation and lies. Act to deny going back to system in which people lose their homes or their lives but for lack of health insurance. Act to continually improve this imperfect system we call the USA.

Hope is not enough anymore. We need to seize the sense of possibility that we felt in November 2008, when it was evident that the world really was changing for the better. Now we need to make that change happen. Part of that means moving past the uncertainty, past the grief or anger that the bill wasn't sufficiently comprehensive or efficient for your taste, and past the certainty that your favored solution was the only acceptable solution. If we cannot work together to take what we've been given and change it for the better, then you can be sure that we will lose it.

P.S. Don't forget to fill out your census forms. And then mail them back. And also, tell your neighbors. The due date is March 30.

Random thoughts on the week's news

Anti-Obama/Tea Party/Right wing nutcases argue that the health care legislation that passed last night is unconstitutional because it would force people to buy a health insurance under "threat of financial punishment."

-Where were these people when Congress passed a law that requires everyone to either buy a digital TV or buy a digital converter box for their analog TVs?

-Are these the same people who are upset that they are required, under penalty of law, to send their children to school?

-I am curious if these are the same people who are upset that they have to purchase clothing if they want to walk about in public.

And indeed, you are not required to purchase anything. If you choose not to purchase health insurance (or take advantage of the subsidies available to you), then you can pay a fee into the health system that must make itself available, as required by law, when you end up in the emergency room.

You call it punishment. I call it contributing to the system.

Meaning of diversity

Over the past few months, I've been mulling over the concept of diversity. As seen in my postings here, I have been primarily concerned with issues around ethnic/racial and class diversity. There is no doubt that poor and non-white people in the U.S. are, as a group, disproportionately disadvantaged in a variety of ways, the election of Barack Obama notwithstanding. Gender issues are a close second in the hierarchy of diversity concerns I generally spend my brain-space and time.

However, recent events have forced me to think through what diversity really means in our social networks, our workplaces, and our schools.

A good friend of mine recently had a baby. At the baby shower, there were a significant number of people in attendance who are deaf and who communicate using American Sign Language (ASL). This is largely explained by the fact that my friend works as an elementary school teacher at a school for the deaf. While hanging out in the living room, chatting with my friend, I became aware that she was interpreting what I was saying to those who spoke American Sign Language (ASL). I also became aware that my behavior was subtly rude. As I was speaking to her , I looked at her directly (a habit I developed because my own slow hearing loss means that I am never sure I am speaking loud enough for people to hear me - unless I've been drinking). This prohibited anyone who may have had the skills from reading my lips. At the same time, should I assume that deaf people do learn to read lips? I wasn't sure what was the appropriate way to interact and communicate in the presence of a mixed hearing group.

Having moved to the Northeast from L.A., the diversity in human ability has become much more apparent to me. Outside of my public health care clinic and one family member (who was a victim to polio), the differently-abled were largely invisible to me. I can't say I recollect ever seeing people sign in public, nor was there ASL interpreters during school or other public events. However, here in the Boston, there are interpreters at the Black Nativity (which is something worth seeing if you ever get the chance - the signing of the show as much as the show itself).

It could be that sensitivity to these issues co-occurred with my moving to the Northeast. It could also be that the Northeast, specifically Boston, was better at integrating the deaf into public activities. Whatever the case, it is worth considering whether our ways of behaving systematically, if subtly, exclude the hard of hearing. Social scientists study the hidden, even if unintentional, mechanisms that result in social networks, workplaces, and schools that are disproportionately composed of people of similar ethnic, class, and gender characteristics. Does the same exist for people who are deaf? In all likelihood, the answer is yes. In five years of teaching at my university, I have never once had a profoundly deaf student.* This despite the fact that there are enough deaf students to create a Deaf Club on campus. I've never seen an offer to include ASL interpretation at community meetings in the city of Boston, neither in citywide meetings or in my own neighborhood.

When differently-abled people are not found in our social networks, workplaces, and schools, this undoubtedly influences our view of the range of human variation that should be accepted and integrated into society. It now strikes me as odd that we tend to constrain our view of diversity to those visible immutable characteristics.

So, what do we do about that, if anything? What could be done to facilitate the integration of the hard of hearing into the mainstream of society? And can it be done while allowing for a sense of community to be maintained within the cultural community of deaf people (as we should also accept with other identity groups). By this, I am not asking about about technological solutions to the physical disability of deafness, but social and policy solutions.

My main diversity concerns will likely continue to largely focus on ethnicity, class, and gender. But it is worth thinking about other forms of diversity that tend to get ignored when we sit around developing policy. I am not sure what the answer is. But I suspect that the way things are could be different and even better.

*I did have one student who wore a hearing aid.