Recently I attended an afternoon meeting in one of St. Louis's affluent suburbs.
I was early so I parked next to the curb a few doors down from the address I wanted.
While I waited for the meeting to begin, I pulled out my phone to catch up on my messages.
I was engrossed in conversation when I noticed a cobalt blue luxury sedan pull up and stop next to me.
My first inclination was that I had parked in some one's space. My car is a '98 beat up sedan.
I looked up. There was a well groomed meticulously dressed man shouting at me
through his car's closed window .
I turned my phone off and opened my window to find out what was wrong.
The driver who was red in the face was pointing at the back of my car and waving his hands. At first I was frightened by his demeanor.
His words were less than gentle they were accusatory and filled with rage.
When I took a breath and listened for a moment, I realized his problem was not with me, my car or the space I had pulled into.
None of these bothered him. What bothered him was a sign I had on the rear bumper of my car that said, "Gun Sense Voter."
When I got over my fright, his arrogant, insulting words did not bother me as much as the ignorance displayed
by one with the intelligence to know better. After his tirade had passed, he drove off and
I was glad that neither he nor I had a gun with us.
Would that I could say the same for people in other towns and cities throughout this land.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Sunday, October 11, 2015
BREAKING DOWN THE GENERATIONAL DIVIDE
Two weeks ago I attended a dinner at a friend's home in celebration of the Jewish holiday of Sukkot.
Unfortunately the cold weather did not permit the dinner to be served out of doors in the traditional
skua, so we ate inside.
We were eight people around the table, each one representing a different generation. I guessed that my hosts were in their late forties, early fifties. Their children, a son about nine and a daughter in her first year in high school.
The other guests included a couple, the woman still working as a Judge in the St. Louis court system and her husband a former Airline executive, now retired who bakes breads for non profit organizations and Frankie Muse Freeman, nationally know attorney and civil rights activist,
and me.
Our conversation included the nine year old son's story of hikes with his father to find eatable mushrooms in a local park, to a discussion of candidates running for the Republican and Democratic Presidential nominations. We spoke of family recipes and about organizations working for more equable opportunity and fairness in all facets of daily life.
All the while, the young man played with his cell phone even though his sister seemed enthralled with the adult conversation.
As we talked I marveled at Frankie Freeman who will be 100 next year. Her eyes may be failing but not her mind nor her inquisitiveness nor her desire and ability to still "right" things. She insists on people calling her Frankie no matter who they are or were they are so I will do so here.
Frankie was breaking glass ceilings long before we knew what the word meant. She earned her degree in law at a time when women were thought to be best kept at home. Even so she married raised two children and has known the joys and sadness that life hands many from time to time.
As a black woman, when she looked for a job she had to struggle to have her educational credentials recognized. She met that challenge by opening her own law office, one in which she still worked until just a few years ago.
She has written The book, "A Song of Faith and Hope," about her life and has served on numerous city, state and national commissions dealing with human and civil rights, been honored by many of them, is a devoted member of her church, but is eager to learn about other faiths as well.
Frankie has meet with presidents, governors and elected officials in Missouri. Recently she was appointed to serve on the Commission on Presidential Scholars, was named St. Louis Citizen of the Year, and will be honored at the 33rd Annual Thomas Jefferson Society Dinner hosted by the Missouri Historical Society in November.
Even so, the night she attended the Sukkot dinner I watched and listened as she spoke with interest and enthusiasm to our youngest guests. For those of us who were older she kept bringing our far ranging conversation back to the City of St. Louis reminding us that there are no easy answers and there is "still much work to do right here."
I came away from that dinner feeling hopeful that the barriers which sometimes exist between generations can be broken down if we, like Frankie Muse Freeman, are able to deal honestly with the reality of human problems and respect each other as we go about the work of overcoming them.
We were eight people around the table, each one representing a different generation. I guessed that my hosts were in their late forties, early fifties. Their children, a son about nine and a daughter in her first year in high school.
The other guests included a couple, the woman still working as a Judge in the St. Louis court system and her husband a former Airline executive, now retired who bakes breads for non profit organizations and Frankie Muse Freeman, nationally know attorney and civil rights activist,
and me.
Our conversation included the nine year old son's story of hikes with his father to find eatable mushrooms in a local park, to a discussion of candidates running for the Republican and Democratic Presidential nominations. We spoke of family recipes and about organizations working for more equable opportunity and fairness in all facets of daily life.
All the while, the young man played with his cell phone even though his sister seemed enthralled with the adult conversation.
As we talked I marveled at Frankie Freeman who will be 100 next year. Her eyes may be failing but not her mind nor her inquisitiveness nor her desire and ability to still "right" things. She insists on people calling her Frankie no matter who they are or were they are so I will do so here.
Frankie was breaking glass ceilings long before we knew what the word meant. She earned her degree in law at a time when women were thought to be best kept at home. Even so she married raised two children and has known the joys and sadness that life hands many from time to time.
As a black woman, when she looked for a job she had to struggle to have her educational credentials recognized. She met that challenge by opening her own law office, one in which she still worked until just a few years ago.
She has written The book, "A Song of Faith and Hope," about her life and has served on numerous city, state and national commissions dealing with human and civil rights, been honored by many of them, is a devoted member of her church, but is eager to learn about other faiths as well.
Frankie has meet with presidents, governors and elected officials in Missouri. Recently she was appointed to serve on the Commission on Presidential Scholars, was named St. Louis Citizen of the Year, and will be honored at the 33rd Annual Thomas Jefferson Society Dinner hosted by the Missouri Historical Society in November.
Even so, the night she attended the Sukkot dinner I watched and listened as she spoke with interest and enthusiasm to our youngest guests. For those of us who were older she kept bringing our far ranging conversation back to the City of St. Louis reminding us that there are no easy answers and there is "still much work to do right here."
I came away from that dinner feeling hopeful that the barriers which sometimes exist between generations can be broken down if we, like Frankie Muse Freeman, are able to deal honestly with the reality of human problems and respect each other as we go about the work of overcoming them.
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