Down On the Farm: Happy Labor Day to you all! Many folks get today off. There will be family get-togethers, barbeques, pool parties, and end-of-the summer celebrations. Please take a moment to remember why this day became a national holiday 125 years ago today. It was to celebrate the common worker and recognize the difficult, and often dangerous work of the American Labor Movement. If you’re saying thanks for the BBQ and a long weekend, take a moment to say thanks for our predecessors that made this day possible.
Thoughts
From the Porch: I slept in an extra hour this morning. You see, I turned
sixty-one years old at about 2:58 AM. Happy Birthday to me, right? It had more
to do with my body feeling my age rather than any secret celebration. It’s been
brutally hot for the last couple of weeks. It simply caught up with me last
night. Such is life…
I’m
unsure of whether it was the oppressive heat or completing another trip around
the sun that made me a bit reflective this week. I’m not where I thought I’d
be, but I am right where I’m supposed to be.
I never thought I’d be farming in triple digit temperatures in my sixties. My goals were much different in my youth. But life has come full circle. Dreams have come true in ways I never imagined. My friend Charlie says I’ve found my ikagi: my reason for being and the thing for which I get up for in the morning.
I
was born on the tail end of the Baby Boomer generation. The sixties, and
unfortunately, the seventies and eighties, shaped much of my perception about
success. I wanted to change the world when I was in college. Idealism isn’t all
that unique for college-age. However, idealism doesn’t make one wealthy and
that’s what everyone else deemed success. So, I traded idealism for pragmatism
and chased whatever I thought was pleasing to others. I got lost somewhere along
the way.
I
won’t bore you with the details. I will tell you I was in my fifties before
life ever began to make sense. That’s only because God began to make sense. Not
the judgmental, punishing God of my youth, but a loving, forgiving God: one
whom I could trust to have my back. The relationship I have with God today is
the foundation for the life I get to live. It’s changed
my perceptions and made me whole.
If
the metric for success is salary, celebrity, or how many followers one has on
social media, then I surely missed the mark. If, on the other hand, it’s about doing
what you love and the people in one’s life, then I am rich beyond measure. I
get up in the morning and know the day is a success
even when it doesn’t feel like it, and it doesn’t
at times. I’m still responsible for the bills. There’s usually more month than
money…). I rarely understand how we make another month financially…
That
being said, I trust God will take care of us even when I can’t possibly see how
it’s going to be done. I show up, plant seeds, and water what comes up. It’s
like that at Opal’s Farm. It’s like that in my life. I’m always surprised by
the harvest.
Thoughts
From the Porch: We sold out early at the farmer’s market Saturday.
We sold much of the week’s harvest on Wednesday, so we were a bit light for
Saturday’s market. Our normal crowd was a bit smaller due to the rainy morning.
Even a few of our farmers took the day off for other pursuits. Hopefully,
everyone enjoyed a much-needed break from summer chores. I know I did.
Our friends Melvin and Janice called Friday night to invite us up to Lake Murray for a camping weekend. It was a perfect Saturday morning to leave market early and head to Oklahoma. Cell service is almost non-existent there. Spending a couple of days unplugged from everything is a periodic necessity. A couple of days in a quiet campsite with good friends is just what the doctor ordered!
Life is full of small pleasures. My Sunday morning meeting was covered by someone else, so I slept in for a change. Upon awakening I made the coffee and headed for some serious porch time. I made the mistake of checking out my CNN app and discovered twenty-nine people had been killed in two mass shootings just hours apart: one in El Paso and the other in Dayton, Ohio. It was difficult to separate the horror and sadness I experienced from the rising fury toward the hatefulness of the crimes.
I wanted to write
about it but growing older (and hopefully wiser) has allowed me to hit the
pause button on such occasions lest I speak or write out of anger. I tend to
say things I later regret or that are misunderstood. It makes apologies and
amends to others for my emotional outburst extremely difficult. So, I’ve mulled
this over for the last couple of days before sharing my thoughts.
Same
story, different day…
The storyline has become all-to familiar. Another mass
shooting. The news covers all the vigils held to honor the dead. Finding
relatives of the fallen or hospital room interviews with survivors are a
ratings bonanza. There’s an outcry against gun violence. Politicians and
political pundits from both sides of the aisle pontificate on how to prevent
this from happening again, just as they did the last time and the time before
that. What happened Sunday will happen again today, tomorrow, and so it goes.
According to data collected by the non-profit organization,
Gun Violence Archive, (as of August 4th, 2019) a mass shooting is
defined as “an event where at least four people, not including the gunman, were
shot”. By this definition, there have been 292 mass shootings in last 219 days
of this year alone. I’m no math wizard but according to my calculations, that’s
1.3 mass shootings a day.
We simply don’t hear about most of them. It seems only a
large body count is newsworthy. Maybe we’ve become numb to “average” shootings.
Many occur in communities most folks ignore anyway. Sadly, if this weekend’s
events are like previous mass shootings, the media will play with the story for
a few days until another ratings booster comes along…
Words can
kill just like bullets
The FBI is unsure as to the motive of the Dayton shooter, but are treating the El Paso event as an act of domestic terrorism based on white supremacy. The shooter’s motives were clear so he several hundred miles to carry out a planned attack on immigrants because of the “Hispanic invasion of Texas”.
The “Hispanic invasion”. “Those people”. “Go back where you came from”. All words and phrases coming from the highest office in the land. All words that spark hate, division, and most of all, fear. When asked what we can do about the problem with those people, someone shouted, “shoot them” and everyone present laughed. Except for one 21-year-old from North Texas. He took those words literally…
I don’t know what to do about gun control, red flag laws, or mental health issues and gun violence. I don’t know if the present occupant of the White House will change his words, but maybe we should hold him accountable for those words. Words kill. They accounted for at least 22 of the deaths this weekend. Hateful words, attitudes, and divisiveness pulled the trigger as much as the gunman did. Donald Trump is as complicit in the El Paso shooting as the gunman.
What I do know is to counter hateful words and actions with
love and grace, despite my anger and sadness. The grace shown to me by a loving
Abba will guide my actions. I’ll not allow hate and division to interfere with
loving and uniting others, especially “the others”.
What I know for certain is, “The only thing necessary for the
triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”―Edmund Burke(in a letter addressed
to Thomas Mercer).I
won’t be quiet, nor will I sit still.
gregoryjoel.com 