Gift Wrapped Pathology
"The pathology is already there. Ideology becomes the gift-wrapping..."
I don't know enough about the man who attacked me in a church parking lot to know just how pathologically disturbed he was. That he was a disturbed individual was apparent from casual observation on other occasions. But how disturbed, how ill, I honestly can't say.
What I DO know is that hate speech and violent discourse became the "gift-wrapping" that others exploited and prompted him to turn his disturbance on me, to turn me into his victim.
In the weeks leading up to that attack, the vitriol in our local environment had been raised to a toxic level. Hate, threats, and incivility was rampant around us. I felt cornered by it and completely unsupported by the authorities upon whom one in my position would normally depend for back-up.
In fact, during that last month before the attack reckless words had been committed to paper that, in the words of one of this country's leading experts on church conflict, "made it open season on Pastor Jan."
Today, in the wake of the Tucson tragedy a leading authority on hate and violence in this country described the shooter as someone who was deranged and for whom some convoluted, not necessarily right-wing, just twisted, ideology had become the "gift wrapping" on that pathology. It made sense. He was deranged and found his focus by whatever means, and she became his target. He was vulnerable. That vulnerability was exploited. And he opened fire.
That's what happened to me. With fists, not a gun, thank Jesus.
Two things. We must become vigilant in identifying those who are deranged and capable of violent acts. And we must be determined to NOT exploit that psychosis for our own means.
Second, there are a LOT of women and men like me out here in America tonight, and last night, and the night before who aren't sleeping. Instead, we are seeing again those faces of rage, we are feeling the wounds of our trauma. And it will continue like this for awhile. Pray for us too.
And pray for all those anonymous victims of the Tucson shooting, the survivors of whom we've heard mostly nothing, who are going to be facing demons of their own for years to come.
And, in my usual attempt to find something humorous to say about my traumatic experience, let me close with this, directed mostly to those who authorized and encouraged my attacker,
"I've upped my meds. Up yours."
Monday, January 10, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
"Where will you be?"
WHERE WILL YOU BE?
Five friends and I spent a dismal evening in July, 1984 at a camp in California listening to a raving lunatic preacher screaming, "Where will you be? WHERE WILL YOU BE? Where WILL you be? Where will you BE? WHERE will you BE?" over and over again, until he was hoarse and we answerwed for ourselves by slipping out the window. It was the 4th of July. Our answer was clear, we would be at the beach in Santa Cruz, watching the fireworks. That's where we be. [Byron, dear, RIP.]
The question has remained, and not just as a joke. The preacher was hoping we'd be in heaven but before I get there, and he's probably certain I'm not going, I have other plans. "Where will you be?"
Just because I've been ill for several years and spent more time than I'd like, or ever expected, answering that question, "safely alone in my own little corner, in my own little chair," where I can be securely away from all the creeps and people who mean to hurt people, I still have bigger plans. I went back to Poland a few years ago when I realized that the icky meanie people would not be there, "I come to Poland because nobody here wants to kill me." There are many more places I can think of, and want to experience, places that feel likewise engaging and compelling. I want to go. That's where I'll be.
So, in answer to the age-old question, "WHERE WILL YOU BE?" (in no particular order)
Antarctica.
Mongolia.
Casablanca.
Venice.
Hallstadt.
Nice.
Como.
Bungee jumping in New Zealand.
CapeTown.
Damascus.
Ramallah.
Marrakesh.
Tripoli.
Pskov.
Boden.
The Faroe Islands.
The farthest island closest to the North Pole.
Greenland.
Bora Bora.
The Cook Islands.
Patagonia.
Victoria Falls.
Madagascar.
Selma.
Beijing.
Hanoi.
Sochi.
On a rock in Lappland as reindeer thunder past.
Cabot's Point.
Nantucket.
Sarajevo.
And on and on and on. I do have a list, with details, written in a journal. Some of these are return visits (above) and some are new. And all are captivating for one reason or another, or twenty-six. This is just off the top of my head so some special hopes are no doubt lost in the fog of afternoon sweets. But you get the idea.
What about you? Where will you be? Where WILL you BE?
Five friends and I spent a dismal evening in July, 1984 at a camp in California listening to a raving lunatic preacher screaming, "Where will you be? WHERE WILL YOU BE? Where WILL you be? Where will you BE? WHERE will you BE?" over and over again, until he was hoarse and we answerwed for ourselves by slipping out the window. It was the 4th of July. Our answer was clear, we would be at the beach in Santa Cruz, watching the fireworks. That's where we be. [Byron, dear, RIP.]
The question has remained, and not just as a joke. The preacher was hoping we'd be in heaven but before I get there, and he's probably certain I'm not going, I have other plans. "Where will you be?"
Just because I've been ill for several years and spent more time than I'd like, or ever expected, answering that question, "safely alone in my own little corner, in my own little chair," where I can be securely away from all the creeps and people who mean to hurt people, I still have bigger plans. I went back to Poland a few years ago when I realized that the icky meanie people would not be there, "I come to Poland because nobody here wants to kill me." There are many more places I can think of, and want to experience, places that feel likewise engaging and compelling. I want to go. That's where I'll be.
So, in answer to the age-old question, "WHERE WILL YOU BE?" (in no particular order)
Antarctica.
Mongolia.
Casablanca.
Venice.
Hallstadt.
Nice.
Como.
Bungee jumping in New Zealand.
CapeTown.
Damascus.
Ramallah.
Marrakesh.
Tripoli.
Pskov.
Boden.
The Faroe Islands.
The farthest island closest to the North Pole.
Greenland.
Bora Bora.
The Cook Islands.
Patagonia.
Victoria Falls.
Madagascar.
Selma.
Beijing.
Hanoi.
Sochi.
On a rock in Lappland as reindeer thunder past.
Cabot's Point.
Nantucket.
Sarajevo.
And on and on and on. I do have a list, with details, written in a journal. Some of these are return visits (above) and some are new. And all are captivating for one reason or another, or twenty-six. This is just off the top of my head so some special hopes are no doubt lost in the fog of afternoon sweets. But you get the idea.
What about you? Where will you be? Where WILL you BE?
Will you go to see Venice before it sinks?
Alta aqua
There is a delightful, charming palm tree in the center of Warsaw but Venice is sinking.
Is it time to see Venice before it goes under? What to do? Where to go? So many places to experience, so little time. The palm tree will wait.
I was put on this earth, I'm clear on it, to wander. Like Chancey Gardner, in Kosinski's Being There, I like to watch. I could happily wake up in a new city or town, or forest, or ocean, every week. Antarctica, the northernmost islands in the Atlantic (I've figured out how to get there), Marrakesh, the sand dunes of Namibia, racing horses in Mongolia. trekking in the far reaches of tribal Afghanistan, watching a thundering reindeer herd in Lappland. And maybe even watching the waves lap the beach in Bali.
It is a grace to have experienced so much. But it's hardly the beginning. I had no idea I did such a good job of keeping my 'bucket list' to myself but Dave just looked at me with amazement when I mentioned the Norwegian post boats. "The fords of Norway! " (Old Far Side aficionados will recognize this) Yes, Dave, the fjords and fords of Norway and the mists of New Zealand. And the Rock of Gibraltar. And the villages of Uganda. (Even though I am SOOOO not a jungle, creepy-crawler, snakey person, I'd go for the people.)
He's worried now. "And what else?"
And so, in answer to the question, now what? the next blog post will list my list of where I need to go. And, c'mon, now, don't be shy, please add yours to mine. We don't have to go together but do tell us. I'm pretty sure I haven't yet thought of EVERYthing.
There is a delightful, charming palm tree in the center of Warsaw but Venice is sinking.
Is it time to see Venice before it goes under? What to do? Where to go? So many places to experience, so little time. The palm tree will wait.
I was put on this earth, I'm clear on it, to wander. Like Chancey Gardner, in Kosinski's Being There, I like to watch. I could happily wake up in a new city or town, or forest, or ocean, every week. Antarctica, the northernmost islands in the Atlantic (I've figured out how to get there), Marrakesh, the sand dunes of Namibia, racing horses in Mongolia. trekking in the far reaches of tribal Afghanistan, watching a thundering reindeer herd in Lappland. And maybe even watching the waves lap the beach in Bali.
It is a grace to have experienced so much. But it's hardly the beginning. I had no idea I did such a good job of keeping my 'bucket list' to myself but Dave just looked at me with amazement when I mentioned the Norwegian post boats. "The fords of Norway! " (Old Far Side aficionados will recognize this) Yes, Dave, the fjords and fords of Norway and the mists of New Zealand. And the Rock of Gibraltar. And the villages of Uganda. (Even though I am SOOOO not a jungle, creepy-crawler, snakey person, I'd go for the people.)
He's worried now. "And what else?"
And so, in answer to the question, now what? the next blog post will list my list of where I need to go. And, c'mon, now, don't be shy, please add yours to mine. We don't have to go together but do tell us. I'm pretty sure I haven't yet thought of EVERYthing.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
If I weren't a realist (to be sung to the tune of "If I Were a Rich Man"
If I weren't a realist
If I weren't a realist, these would be my resolutions for 2011:
(First of all, the whole "sung to the tune of" thing won't work but if I weren't a realist, it would.)
1. I will never complain on Boniva days.
2. I will stop every morning at 11:11, beginning today: 1.1.11, and write a thoughtful email to my daughters and my brother, my sisters- and parents-in law.
3. I will not waste even one minute listening to television that I don't really want to hear: no commercials, no second hour of the same news broadcast, no fourteen times listening to the same inane local sports recap of 2010. The mute button works just fine. (As does the 'off' one.)
4. I will forget that Suzy Q's exist.
5. I will hang up my jeans every night.
6. I will organize all 42,363 photos in my collection, including scanning all of the old prints that are worth keeping into the carefully organized digital collection, and I will complete the all of the girls' scrapbooks.
7. I will never ever ever put the car in reverse until the little blue light goes off, no matter if it takes ten minutes and it's 60 degrees outside and I'm late, again.
8. I will always get a haircut within two days of the appropriate time.
9. I will clean up the dog poop in the yard every day and I will watch with joy and patience as the dog eats (the phase before the poop) because Daisy just needs to be watched as she eats her food. Don't you?
10. I will never leave washed laundry in the washing machine so long that it really needs to go through another quick cycle just to be wet enough to be dried.
11. I will not use my mini-trampoline as a shelf for stuff I don't want to put away.
12. I will send fun, thoughtful cards via snail mail, with hand-written letters inside, to all of my family and friends in advance of their birthdays.
13. I will watch the Netflix movies within a month of their arrival.
14. I will not use the upstairs stair rails or banisters as semi-permanent storage for my hoodies, sweaters, scarves, and the occasional pair of pants.
15. I will give up watching Two and A Half Men, my comedy hour, even though it is very well-written, which is to say, hilarious, because Charlie Sheen is scum.
16. I will not fall asleep while watching the Rose Bowl Parade because it is un-American. (But do I have to listen? Can I just watch while listening to music? And do I have to actually watch, or can I have it on and be reading at the same time?)
17. I will not speed, and specifically, I will not drive 90 mph on the tollway to the airport even though I'm the only car on the road.
18. I will not make fun of ducks.
19. I will use capers in gourmet menu items at least once a week.
20. I will not be ashamed of occasionally putting a Carpenter's CD in the car and going for a drive through the foothills and singing along, loud.
If I do ANY of these things in 2011, you will be the first to know.
What are your resolutions? Realistic or otherwise? I'm dying to hear! So is everyone else who reads this. Go for it. We're all eyes.
If I weren't a realist, these would be my resolutions for 2011:
(First of all, the whole "sung to the tune of" thing won't work but if I weren't a realist, it would.)
1. I will never complain on Boniva days.
2. I will stop every morning at 11:11, beginning today: 1.1.11, and write a thoughtful email to my daughters and my brother, my sisters- and parents-in law.
3. I will not waste even one minute listening to television that I don't really want to hear: no commercials, no second hour of the same news broadcast, no fourteen times listening to the same inane local sports recap of 2010. The mute button works just fine. (As does the 'off' one.)
4. I will forget that Suzy Q's exist.
5. I will hang up my jeans every night.
6. I will organize all 42,363 photos in my collection, including scanning all of the old prints that are worth keeping into the carefully organized digital collection, and I will complete the all of the girls' scrapbooks.
7. I will never ever ever put the car in reverse until the little blue light goes off, no matter if it takes ten minutes and it's 60 degrees outside and I'm late, again.
8. I will always get a haircut within two days of the appropriate time.
9. I will clean up the dog poop in the yard every day and I will watch with joy and patience as the dog eats (the phase before the poop) because Daisy just needs to be watched as she eats her food. Don't you?
10. I will never leave washed laundry in the washing machine so long that it really needs to go through another quick cycle just to be wet enough to be dried.
11. I will not use my mini-trampoline as a shelf for stuff I don't want to put away.
12. I will send fun, thoughtful cards via snail mail, with hand-written letters inside, to all of my family and friends in advance of their birthdays.
13. I will watch the Netflix movies within a month of their arrival.
14. I will not use the upstairs stair rails or banisters as semi-permanent storage for my hoodies, sweaters, scarves, and the occasional pair of pants.
15. I will give up watching Two and A Half Men, my comedy hour, even though it is very well-written, which is to say, hilarious, because Charlie Sheen is scum.
16. I will not fall asleep while watching the Rose Bowl Parade because it is un-American. (But do I have to listen? Can I just watch while listening to music? And do I have to actually watch, or can I have it on and be reading at the same time?)
17. I will not speed, and specifically, I will not drive 90 mph on the tollway to the airport even though I'm the only car on the road.
18. I will not make fun of ducks.
19. I will use capers in gourmet menu items at least once a week.
20. I will not be ashamed of occasionally putting a Carpenter's CD in the car and going for a drive through the foothills and singing along, loud.
If I do ANY of these things in 2011, you will be the first to know.
What are your resolutions? Realistic or otherwise? I'm dying to hear! So is everyone else who reads this. Go for it. We're all eyes.
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