Family and Unity - Critically Moving Forward the Human Agenda
Family and Unity - Critically Moving Forward the Human Agenda with ...
Love, Compassion, Hope, and CHANGE!
It had been a good day. Though we were still coping with the reality of workforce reductions, we remained positive. Morale was high. I'd like to think I had something to do with my team's high morale. I tried to do more than just remind them of the fact that we still had a job to do. We were gainfully employed, yes. We still joked. We still laughed. We lived and worked for the moment. It was the best we could do. And, it was enough. Part of the equation, this formula for positive morale, involved participating in something besides work tasks, something more than just the daily grind. At our job, there are opportunities to expand your horizons, to get involved. I'm part of the company Diversity Council, which I believe has been pivotal in moving forward the human agenda in the minds of those that serve on the Council, as well as every associate at the company that attends a diversity event, reads our publications, visits our websites, or gets in a discussion around our activities. It helps. It creates perspective. For many, like me, learning about diversity, and serving on the council, was just one of many doors I mentally walked through. It opened onto a path, and this path was my personal diversity journey. I believe the journey along this path is simply part of my winding, meandering mental road to wisdom. As I've often said, I believe the road to wisdom is brightly illuminated by the light of perspective. Such light is provided by the Diversity Council.
As I walked into the Publix grocery store on the way to my home, I was thinking about the Diversity Council, and some of the ideas we were discussing for our 2009/2010 activities calendar. I picked up some juice, considered ongoing societal struggles with regard to the GLBT community, some chicken, continuing color-line disparities, same scallions, carrots, and baby potatoes, thought about Islamaphobia. I entered the checkout line with these thoughts swirling in my mind, and I smiled. I smiled because I knew just considering them, just thinking about them, was the start. And through my efforts, and the efforts of the Council, others would start thinking, would start considering, would start changing.
The young man at the register, a young Euro-American kid with green eyes, red hair, and freckles smiled politely and said, "hello sir," as he started running my items over the scanner. The bagger, a young African-American, with deep chocolate skin and close cut hair, did the same, smiled politely and said "hello sir," as he started bagging my groceries. As I pulled out my debit card I glanced at the young man bagging groceries the next aisle over. I chuckled. Twins. They looked exactly alike. I was pleased to see more African-Americans in my neighborhood. When I first moved in, it wasn't as diverse. However, times were changing, and many of the people moving in were hard-working, mannerly, and upstanding ... it lends credence to hope. They were no more special than kids working at the Kroger in the city, except these kids were more exposed, had more support, had more education, and I am one who firmly believes that education is key. It is the basis, the foundation. A good education from your parents is why you say please and thank you. It is the basis for your articulation, your patience, your discipline. Obedience is affirmed and witnessed, discipline exercised, because the parents are involved, and educated appropriately themselves. They embrace this education and it stretches across the ethnic divide. I truly did consider these things, as the old couple walked in.
My heart skipped a beat, for in the moment I saw her, I felt love.
It was a quick thing. It was a fleeting thing. It affirmed the change I was seeing and feeling. It's not that it was new. It just felt new. It felt right. There was the older white woman (Euro-American) walking in first. I would hazard a guess that she was about 65. She looked clear-eyed, determined to pick up some thing, one particular thing. She didn't look worried, or frustrated, just objective focused. She was on a mission. Her husband, and I'm certain he was her husband because they looked alike, but very, very different, the way married people do over time. You've all seen it happen, even with married couples of different colors, the group image they project creates a mental picture that evokes similarities, even with people who have never seen them before. Her husband walked briskly behind her. He had a look of contentment on his face, mixed with determination. In his arms was a baby girl, a small toddler. She was the first reason my heart skipped a beat. The second reason my heart skipped a beat is because I felt the love. The husband held the little girl in his right arm. He held her close. His large hand was on the back of her head, gently holding it, as she rested in the crook of his neck, between head and shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around the old man's still big, broad shoulders. I felt the love. I could see the corn-rows of her hair peeking out between his fingers. Inside I smiled, thinking he didn't do that to her hair. I wondered, did she? I wondered, nyahhh. But, maybe she did. All this happened in the seconds it took for them to walk by. I felt the love. Interestingly enough, there didn't seem to be any stares. I looked intently, but made sure not to be seen looking. I didn't want to disrupt the love. However, I'm certain they would not have cared. I felt the love, from the baby girl, to the man, to the woman, and back again. She belonged to them. And more importantly, they belonged to her. This older couple, this white man, and white woman, belonged to this little black girl. I could feel the love. They were her parents, or grandparents, and they were giving her the love she needed. I thought of this. I considered all this, in the seconds, as they passed. Then, they were gone. They were behind me, quickly moving on with the woman's mission, the mission to find and purchase some singular object. They were behind me, and I continued to feel the love.
The young black man bagging my groceries saw them too. He stared briefly. He couldn't manage discrete with an instruction booklet written in crayon. He looked quickly at his friend, the red-headed white kid. The kid was too busy processing my debit card. He had missed the family walk by. The bagger looked at this twin the next register over. His twin looked back. The bagger's eyes went wide, as if to say, did you see it? His twin shrugged, what? The bagger tilted his head in the direction the family had walked, towards the pharmacy. His twin looked in the direction behind me. I didn't turn, but I knew he could see them. They were all so young, these boys, red-head and the twins, I didn't linger on what they might be thinking, I decided to speak.
"It happens."
The bagger turned towards me. "Sir?"
"It happens," I said again. "What you're looking at. I saw them too. It does indeed happen, with more frequency."
"Yeah," the bagger said, quickly. "Sir, I know. I know, sir. I'm not saying it's bad or--"
"I didn't say you said it was bad, son," I interrupted. "I just said it happens. And, it's a very, very good thing."
"Oh, oh yeah, it's definitely a good thing. I mean, it's about having a family and everything. Yes sir, I know."
"Yes, it is."
I took my bags from the bagger, "Thank you, sir," he said. "And have a nice day." The red-headed register operator echoed the same words. I thanked them both, and started walking towards the door. I didn't look back. I didn't look for the family. I wondered if the bagger really understood. I knew he got it on some level. I just wondered how deep that level of understanding went. His generation is radically different from my own, just as mine was different from my parents. Still, there is racism. There are the disparities. There is the continued need for an understanding, a need to embrace diversity. That fact was made clear in the moment he stared at the family, at their little chocolate muffin, a beautiful toddler the old man held as though he had birthed her himself. He stared, and put to truth the knowledge that the baggage remains.
I walked out of the store very much moved in mind and spirit. Seeing them was like seeing hope. Seeing them was the embodiment of change. Seeing them was the truth, for me a validation of that which I have claimed to be true, that with each passing day we grow in love and understanding, that we each put a brick in the project, the construction of stairs to the great plataeu of human enlightenment, where we come to the realize the AXIOM, and live by it, Human does not kill Human, Human does not hurt Human, Human loves Human. I have HOPE.
D.S. Brown - March 2009
www.2Rulesof3.com
Love, Compassion, Hope, and CHANGE!
It had been a good day. Though we were still coping with the reality of workforce reductions, we remained positive. Morale was high. I'd like to think I had something to do with my team's high morale. I tried to do more than just remind them of the fact that we still had a job to do. We were gainfully employed, yes. We still joked. We still laughed. We lived and worked for the moment. It was the best we could do. And, it was enough. Part of the equation, this formula for positive morale, involved participating in something besides work tasks, something more than just the daily grind. At our job, there are opportunities to expand your horizons, to get involved. I'm part of the company Diversity Council, which I believe has been pivotal in moving forward the human agenda in the minds of those that serve on the Council, as well as every associate at the company that attends a diversity event, reads our publications, visits our websites, or gets in a discussion around our activities. It helps. It creates perspective. For many, like me, learning about diversity, and serving on the council, was just one of many doors I mentally walked through. It opened onto a path, and this path was my personal diversity journey. I believe the journey along this path is simply part of my winding, meandering mental road to wisdom. As I've often said, I believe the road to wisdom is brightly illuminated by the light of perspective. Such light is provided by the Diversity Council.
As I walked into the Publix grocery store on the way to my home, I was thinking about the Diversity Council, and some of the ideas we were discussing for our 2009/2010 activities calendar. I picked up some juice, considered ongoing societal struggles with regard to the GLBT community, some chicken, continuing color-line disparities, same scallions, carrots, and baby potatoes, thought about Islamaphobia. I entered the checkout line with these thoughts swirling in my mind, and I smiled. I smiled because I knew just considering them, just thinking about them, was the start. And through my efforts, and the efforts of the Council, others would start thinking, would start considering, would start changing.
The young man at the register, a young Euro-American kid with green eyes, red hair, and freckles smiled politely and said, "hello sir," as he started running my items over the scanner. The bagger, a young African-American, with deep chocolate skin and close cut hair, did the same, smiled politely and said "hello sir," as he started bagging my groceries. As I pulled out my debit card I glanced at the young man bagging groceries the next aisle over. I chuckled. Twins. They looked exactly alike. I was pleased to see more African-Americans in my neighborhood. When I first moved in, it wasn't as diverse. However, times were changing, and many of the people moving in were hard-working, mannerly, and upstanding ... it lends credence to hope. They were no more special than kids working at the Kroger in the city, except these kids were more exposed, had more support, had more education, and I am one who firmly believes that education is key. It is the basis, the foundation. A good education from your parents is why you say please and thank you. It is the basis for your articulation, your patience, your discipline. Obedience is affirmed and witnessed, discipline exercised, because the parents are involved, and educated appropriately themselves. They embrace this education and it stretches across the ethnic divide. I truly did consider these things, as the old couple walked in.
My heart skipped a beat, for in the moment I saw her, I felt love.
It was a quick thing. It was a fleeting thing. It affirmed the change I was seeing and feeling. It's not that it was new. It just felt new. It felt right. There was the older white woman (Euro-American) walking in first. I would hazard a guess that she was about 65. She looked clear-eyed, determined to pick up some thing, one particular thing. She didn't look worried, or frustrated, just objective focused. She was on a mission. Her husband, and I'm certain he was her husband because they looked alike, but very, very different, the way married people do over time. You've all seen it happen, even with married couples of different colors, the group image they project creates a mental picture that evokes similarities, even with people who have never seen them before. Her husband walked briskly behind her. He had a look of contentment on his face, mixed with determination. In his arms was a baby girl, a small toddler. She was the first reason my heart skipped a beat. The second reason my heart skipped a beat is because I felt the love. The husband held the little girl in his right arm. He held her close. His large hand was on the back of her head, gently holding it, as she rested in the crook of his neck, between head and shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around the old man's still big, broad shoulders. I felt the love. I could see the corn-rows of her hair peeking out between his fingers. Inside I smiled, thinking he didn't do that to her hair. I wondered, did she? I wondered, nyahhh. But, maybe she did. All this happened in the seconds it took for them to walk by. I felt the love. Interestingly enough, there didn't seem to be any stares. I looked intently, but made sure not to be seen looking. I didn't want to disrupt the love. However, I'm certain they would not have cared. I felt the love, from the baby girl, to the man, to the woman, and back again. She belonged to them. And more importantly, they belonged to her. This older couple, this white man, and white woman, belonged to this little black girl. I could feel the love. They were her parents, or grandparents, and they were giving her the love she needed. I thought of this. I considered all this, in the seconds, as they passed. Then, they were gone. They were behind me, quickly moving on with the woman's mission, the mission to find and purchase some singular object. They were behind me, and I continued to feel the love.
The young black man bagging my groceries saw them too. He stared briefly. He couldn't manage discrete with an instruction booklet written in crayon. He looked quickly at his friend, the red-headed white kid. The kid was too busy processing my debit card. He had missed the family walk by. The bagger looked at this twin the next register over. His twin looked back. The bagger's eyes went wide, as if to say, did you see it? His twin shrugged, what? The bagger tilted his head in the direction the family had walked, towards the pharmacy. His twin looked in the direction behind me. I didn't turn, but I knew he could see them. They were all so young, these boys, red-head and the twins, I didn't linger on what they might be thinking, I decided to speak.
"It happens."
The bagger turned towards me. "Sir?"
"It happens," I said again. "What you're looking at. I saw them too. It does indeed happen, with more frequency."
"Yeah," the bagger said, quickly. "Sir, I know. I know, sir. I'm not saying it's bad or--"
"I didn't say you said it was bad, son," I interrupted. "I just said it happens. And, it's a very, very good thing."
"Oh, oh yeah, it's definitely a good thing. I mean, it's about having a family and everything. Yes sir, I know."
"Yes, it is."
I took my bags from the bagger, "Thank you, sir," he said. "And have a nice day." The red-headed register operator echoed the same words. I thanked them both, and started walking towards the door. I didn't look back. I didn't look for the family. I wondered if the bagger really understood. I knew he got it on some level. I just wondered how deep that level of understanding went. His generation is radically different from my own, just as mine was different from my parents. Still, there is racism. There are the disparities. There is the continued need for an understanding, a need to embrace diversity. That fact was made clear in the moment he stared at the family, at their little chocolate muffin, a beautiful toddler the old man held as though he had birthed her himself. He stared, and put to truth the knowledge that the baggage remains.
I walked out of the store very much moved in mind and spirit. Seeing them was like seeing hope. Seeing them was the embodiment of change. Seeing them was the truth, for me a validation of that which I have claimed to be true, that with each passing day we grow in love and understanding, that we each put a brick in the project, the construction of stairs to the great plataeu of human enlightenment, where we come to the realize the AXIOM, and live by it, Human does not kill Human, Human does not hurt Human, Human loves Human. I have HOPE.
D.S. Brown - March 2009
www.2Rulesof3.com
Moving!