Sunday, January 17, 2010

Coming to you from bed...pain and Cival Rights

Well, I have a big week coming up with a bigger weekend and I am probably going to be seeing the last of my naps, so I am taking the afternoon off. I sleep alot and spend a lot more time laying down that sitting or standing. I just can't do it. Often times I am spending my time laying in bed watching the Travel Channel, like I am doing now. I am watching Andrew Zimmerman, but the perky blond, Samantha Brown is my favorite!

Went to church this morning and sang in choir. One of the nice things about being in choir is that you get to do a lot of sitting and standing. I can't sit for long, remember....?

Yesterday I went to a seminar from an Institute down in FL on non-invasive back surgery. They go in with a tube and do laser surgery and put some little instruments down the tube to take things out, shave things down, etc. I have a lovely mass of scar tissue under one of my screw heads that is sitting on my Sciatica. Ouch isn't the word. It Hurts, A LOT! I am losing the function of my right leg, which of course is my driving leg and I don't think I am going to be walking very long. Which is an issue, because I can't sit. SO, I hope that I don't get bed ridden!

Enough of that stuff. Today in Adult Forum at church we had 2 people talk about their experiences during the Cival Rights movement. It's interesting because the book that I just finished reading, Alex Cross's Trial was about a real trial that happened during the Cival Rights movement. It breaks my heart to know that discrimination still happens today. I have worked long enough as a social worker to see discrimination first hand. My Grandfather used to say all the time, "I was poor and we just pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps and went to work and made something of ourselves!" No matter what I said......Like, "Well, you were Male and White and had options that African American's or Women had...He didn't want to hear it. He thought he was integrated because he had black friends...and that is what he would say, "My black friend...." I don't think I ever heard him say, "My white friend....." He didn't get it. Or maybe he couldn't. I think there were 2 things that made me the angriest. When my grandparents were getting ready to buy a house in FL, the town they picked was Steinhatchee. Why? Because the only black people were the one's who delivered stuff to town and left. WTF? Seriously? How could you live in such a place. The second was more mind blowing to me than that. When Gillian was 3, I took her to Springfield TN to visit my cousin. She and her husband owned an antique shop at first. Springfield is about a half hour north of Nashville. She proceeded to show me around town and then pointed out all the sites winding up in the "black" section of town. Yes, according to her, the blacks knew where to live and didn't live outside their area. WHAT? But I think the thing that stunned me the most was when we were in line at a grocery store and a black person moved out of line and let us go in front of him. I thought he was just being kind and mentioned this to my cousin afterwards and she just said, "Black people around here know better, whites go first" Again,.....WTF? My cousin really wanted me to move down there but no way was my daughter going to grow up in that kind of atmosphere.....I can't imagine it's gotten any better. So, so sad.

I had the awesome chance to work at an agency back in 2000-2002 where I was 1 of 3 white people who worked at an almsot all African American agency. It was strange at first, but it gave me a clue as to how it felt for someone who might be AA coming to work just about anywhere else. I laid low and learned more than I ever have. I learned that we didn't start the day until we ate breakfast. There was a woman who cooked every morning. Grits, eggs, toast, etc...and we had out morning meeting over breakdfast. Nothing was really timed. Home visits were done to other AA families but there were no set times. And they were accepted into AA homes much more readily than I was, no suprise there. But as time went on, the neighborhood knew who I was and I was accepted. I didn't have fear walking on the West Side (although Cheryl was) and never managed to get shot at. It was the best learning experience I have ever had.

So, this is long and I am ready to take a nap. Thanks for pulling up a chair and reading. Any questions?

Wendy

2 comments:

Judy said...

This was a wonderful blog. I sometimes wish I could move the kids closer to a city with much more diversity. I am always mindful to raise tolerant children, but sometimes, telling them isn't enough - they need to live where there are more cultures and ways of life and religions, rather than the WASPish North Country. Yes, they learn about MLK in school, but even that isn't enough.

Anonymous said...

Wow- Wendy glad you are opinionated.