The Best Way [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

It’s a common misconception that in order to succeed in life it is necessary to climb over the bodies of the competition. Dog-eat-dog is among the saddest philosophies in the human canon. Not only is it a poverty mentality (there’s not enough for everyone), it’s a lie all dressed up in gold-veneer. It assumes achievement (of any kind) happens in a vacuum. No support. No privilege. No mentors. No relationship at all with circumstance. To be clear: “Every man for himself!” is a cry issued from the bridge when the ship is going down. It is the mantra of the mentally vapid and morally vacant, the desperate, the drowning. It is antithetical to thriving.

No one thrives in isolation.

The people I admire most are those who rose in life because they helped others rise. They invested in the betterment of their community because they understood that they lived in community. They understood that prosperity is something that is best created when it is created for all. My mentors understood that to suppress, undermine, exploit or demonize members of their community might bring momentary success but it inevitably fractured the foundation: all houses crumble. The best route to thriving is to make certain that the ship is solid and the course is beneficial for all on board. Taking care of others is the best way of taking care of yourself. Work hard. Be kind. Thrive.

As I write this, people across the nation are assembling for the No Kings protests. They know, as do I, that in order for a community – for a nation – to thrive it must protect the rights and values of all people, not only of its citizens. It’s a philosophy called democracy. Of the people, by the people, for the people. They are taking to the streets to push back against the authoritarian assault on our democracy by those who adhere to the dog-eat-dog philosophy otherwise known as fascism.

It’s been less than a year since the authoritarians took the reins of power and we’re already seeing the nation’s foundation crumble. When we suspend the rights of due process to immigrants, we suspend due process for all of us. When we suspend the rule of law for one man, we suspend the rule of law for all of us.

We are at the crossroads. It does my heart good to see millions and millions of people take to the streets as a peaceful community – in service to their community – to protest the outrages we now witness each day – and attempt to protect the rights of all people – all people – before they are lost, before this listing ship starts to sink, before the oligarchs, crooks and cowards on the bridge crow with delight, “Every man for himself!”

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE KIND

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Show Up! [David’s blog on KS Friday]

They young reveler looked at me and shouted over the music, “It’s great seeing you here!” He offered a fist bump and guided me through the secret handshake that followed the bump. We laughed.

At first I was puzzled. I didn’t know him at all yet he was genuinely delighted to see me. And then it occurred to me. In his eyes I am old. My beard is gray. He was happily surprised to find an old guy dancing in the raucous sweaty crowd at Chicago PRIDE.

Kerri leaned forward and told him – well, shouted over the throbbing thunderous music – that the performer on the stage was our son. The young reveler looked like she just slapped him. “WHAT?!” he exclaimed. He turned and told his friends. They looked at us as if hell had just frozen over – a remarkable metaphor since it was 105 degrees at 7:30 pm. Parents at PRIDE! Parents celebrating and supporting their son! Impossible! Unimaginable! Fist bumps, high-fives! The young reveler shook my hand enthusiastically saying, “No Way!! No Way!!”

Their dancing resumed, more enthusiastic, more joyful, in a world made new with wondrous possibility. The word spread. Proud parents were at PRIDE, dancing! Hunky boys fanned Kerri to keep her cool. She stood on the curb so she could take pictures of the stage above the festive crowd. “You’re Craig’s Mom!” I heard declared again and again. More hugs and introductions.

Later, exhausted, on the train ride home, Kerri said, “I think it was really important that we showed up.” I knew what she meant. We unintentionally showed up for more than Craig’s performance.

I thought of something the MC said to crowd after Craig’s set, “Are you going to take care of your trans brothers and sisters? Are you going to take care of each other?” he asked. The crowd cheered and he added, “Remember, if one of us is marginalized, all of us are marginalized.” Words of caution made more relevant – and poignant – by the manufactured hatred of our times. The demonization of “the other” marginalizes all of us.

Now, more than ever, it matters that we show up for each other. I was heartened by the No Kings protests. I am heartened each time a community shines a light on masked ICE agents and shames them away from brutalizing yet another human being. Our presence – our witness – in this moment matters more than we will ever understand.

CONNECTED on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about PRIDE

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The Smallest of Things [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

We’ve taught Dogga not to bark at the dachshunds next door. He stands vigil on our bed where he can see out the window and over the fence. He waits, knowing their morning routine. When the moment arrives, when the dachshunds come outside, Dogga groans and moans – like a character in a melodrama – to suppress his bark. He leaps off the bed, turns to look at us, and vigorously complains. His indignation is among our favorite morning rituals. We giggle at his yawling discord. We tell him to, “Go get candy cane!”, his favorite toy, useful in chewing away his dissatisfaction. He races into the next room returning with his plastic candy cane in his mouth, looking somewhat like Groucho Marx gnawing on a red and white striped cigar.

In those moments I couldn’t be more in love with my life. It’s the smallest of things.

We were like small children overrun with anticipation as we awaited the blossoming of the peonies. Last fall Loida gifted Kerri with two new peony roots. Elsa Sass and Amalia Olson. We planted them with great care, following the instructions to the letter. In the spring, little green adventurers broke through the soil. Soon there were leaves and then the tiniest buds. And then, one day, the buds began to swell; nature’s Jiffy Pop. Like Dogga peering out the window, we’d race outside each morning to hold our vigil. This week, the buds burst open, radiant flowers unfolded. Kerri was beside herself. The photo session has been ongoing for days. “I just love them!” she exclaims with each and every snap.

It’s the smallest of things.

This weekend, people left the comfort and safety of their homes to walk together in the streets. They showed up for each other. They showed up en masse to remind their elected leaders that they serve the public and not their party; they are meant to serve the needs of the public and not the whims of a criminal. People walked together to remind the absent/silent Republican members of Congress that they swore an oath to uphold The Constitution – and they are betraying their oath. Millions of people stepped out of their houses to walk together, to express their dissatisfaction with the brutality, the attempted authoritarian take-down of our democracy, to join together their voices to say, “We will not abdicate our responsibility to each other as you have abdicated your responsibility to us.”

It’s the smallest of things. To step out of the house. To walk with others. To speak truth to power, especially when power is a bully threatening violence.

Recently I’ve asked myself – as I’ve heard many others ask, “But what can I do?” This weekend we experienced an answer: Do the smallest of things. Step out of your house. Take a walk with your neighbors that sends a clear message to the cowards in Congress and the supremely corrupted court: The democracy that our ancestors planted here is precious and worth protecting.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PEONY

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