solidarity

Solidarity – Day 1092

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Sign at Strike – Photo: L. Weikel

Solidarity

Every once in a while, Karl and I get a chance to put our beliefs into action and show our solidarity with fellow Americans who seek to make our country or our world better, or seek to be treated fairly and equitably in exchange for their hard work. Today was one of those days.

Because we have a connection to AFSCME (the American Federation of State, County, and Municipal Employees), we chose to spend some time today walking the picket line at the Kelloggs plant in Lancaster County. That’s because Council 13 AFSCME members are showing up to express their solidarity with their brothers and sisters who are members of the BCTGM local 374-G (Bakers, Confectioners, Tobacco Workers, and Grain Millers). BCTGM International is the union that represents over 1400 workers striking against the major cereal manufacturer nationwide to effect equal wages for equal work.

If you take the time to read about the two-tiered wage system Kelloggs implemented some time ago, you’ll have a better understanding of why these workers are striking. Taking the extraordinary measure of standing up to an employer in this manner is never an easy decision. But times and circumstances conspire to create situations that demand redress.

Photo: L. Weikel

Other Times

It seems we’re being given more and more reason to take to the streets. From the dire trajectory of climate change to recognizing the egregious lack of racial justice in our country, we try to show up and be counted, as opposed to sitting in front of the tv and feeling powerless. Not that we don’t do our share of sitting in front of the tv feeling frustrated and outraged.

But I guess watching the injustices pile up and regular people seemingly losing their ability to make a difference is why, every once in a while, we drag our bones outside and show up. Another reason may stem from the fact that we came of age in the ‘70s. I look back on those times and feel, I don’t know…uncomfortable. I remember watching protests on the nightly news back in the ‘60s. Too young to have much of an opinion about anything, I certainly didn’t fully comprehend what was going on. (I knew how my father felt about it, though – based on his reaction to what we watched on the news.)

Too Young To Make a Difference

I vividly remember feeling confused over why young people protesting against the Vietnam War were so reviled and disrespected, as if they were just too stupid or misinformed to realize the lives of their brothers and friends were necessary sacrifices. Necessary? A reasonable price to be paid?

At the same time, I couldn’t for the life of me understand why our country could not – would not – ratify the Equal Rights Amendment. (And seriously – how egregious is it that we still have yet to pass it?) As someone growing up in the ‘70s, I took it for granted that the rights won by women were pretty obviously righteous. Honestly, how could anyone think women weren’t equal to men or at least entitled to be paid the same for the same work?

Ignorance

Oh, how naïve I was.

Speaking of naïve, as a white person living in a mostly rural area, I had no idea what it meant to be ‘guilty of walking while black.’ I never even heard the term until I was in my late 30s, when a colleague described to me the way her black nephew would be stopped by police for just that: walking while black. At first, it sounded like hyperbole. It took no time at all for me to realize it was the horrible truth for all people of color in our country, but especially young black and brown men.

The systemic racism that resulted in the horror of George Floyd’s murder (and Ahmaud Arbery’s and the countless others we’ve witnessed over the past few years but barely remember their names, not to mention the thousands of others we’ve not even heard about) is something of which I was shamefully ignorant. And I say shamefully because these are my fellow Americans. People I truly believed were as equal and free as me. How could I grow up as a reasonably intelligent and well-informed person and not realize just how pervasive racism continues to be in our country?

Outrage

And then there’s the situation with women’s rights over our own bodies. As a girl growing up in the ‘70s, again, I took for granted that I had sovereignty over my own body. I took for granted that it was my business and no one else’s whether I could use birth control. Or choose whether or when I would become a mother.

Yet here we are.

There are so many reasons why I show up to stand in solidarity with others. I may not work at a factory or nursing home. I may never have to worry about my sons being shot as they take a run on a country road because they supposedly look suspicious (because of their race) or are assumed they ‘shouldn’t be there’ or don’t belong. But I can show up and declare my solidarity with them. I can show up to advocate for Mother Earth, and the rights of all women. I can protest the blatant efforts to disenfranchise whole swaths of people. If it matters to me – I must.

Sometimes all we can do is show up. And if we can do more?

Sometimes it feels like our world’s on fire – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-19)

Feeling Very Loved – Day 1047

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Expressions of Love & Caring – Photo: L.Weikel

Feeling Very Loved

Man oh man, it’s been a week. Wait. What? It’s not over yet, you say? Well, I guess that’s technically true (and not a little scary). All I can say at this moment, though, is that I’m feeling very loved – and I have all of you to thank for that.

When I wrote my post last Sunday night, I was worried. I’d intended to write another anthropomorphized vegetable tale, but obviously that silliness was pre-empted. I may or may not regain the light-hearted silliness required to write about the carrot that arrived from the CSA last weekend.

As most of you know, it doesn’t matter what I may have tucked in the back of my mind as a possible topic on any given evening. Ultimately, I always opt to share my state-of-being in the moment. And I could feel in my bones that, even though he just seemed ‘punk’ throughout the day, Spartacus’s malaise was rapidly degrading into something far more concerning.

Community of Compassion

I want to tell all of you how much your words and gestures of love and compassion have meant to me this week. The first few days of the week were a blur of action and driving and shock. The next few felt like a slow-motion pileup of emotions – as well as that weird unable-to-catch-your-breath feeling of having the wind knocked out of you. That’s the feeling that accompanies sudden, irretrievable loss. It’s like a WOMP right to the solar plexus.

My wish is that none of you ever have to feel it. But of course, I know many of you already have. Whether you have or you haven’t experienced that feeling, reading about it is a gift. Not a gift to you necessarily. But definitely a gift to the writer. It’s a gift that you gut through it long enough to share in the emotions as hard as they may be to read, and then – even more amazingly – take the time to write a comment in response.

Can I tell you how much it meant to me to pull up FB on my phone and just see how many people had reacted? And then the shock of seeing the number of comments? I felt arms around me and a solidarity of shared compassion just in looking at those numbers.

To be honest, I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to read your sweet and loving comments until yesterday. It was a comfort simply to know you cared enough to write to me. I needed to wait a full day to take the time to scroll through them and then truly take in your love.

We Are Kindred Spirits

The level of compassion and understanding with which so very many of you responded was enlightening. The heartfelt responses I received from you were not a reflection of the quality of my writing. No. They were a reflection of the love that each and every one of you has experienced first-hand. Experienced – and then been forced to release into the ethers. Because that’s the nature of our lives.

The array of responses revealed something else, too: You’re all a bunch of lovers. We love and we let go.

The fact that I’m lucky enough to have so many people (from all over the world, I might add) in my life, sharing this journey, holding each other’s hands when any one of us is hurting, is a treasure. It’s not easy to live our lives with awareness. It’s hard to choose to feel – and not run from the hard stuff.

Thank you for being the kind softies you all revealed yourselves to be. I love being part of our community of compassion. I dare say it’s because we have each other that we pick ourselves up every day and refuse to give in to the darkness that threatens all of us every once in a while.

(T-64)

Off His Game – Day 1043

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Spartacus: “I don’t feel well, Mommy” – Photo: L. Weikel

Off His Game

I’m distracted this evening. I’m worried about my Spart-man. As soon as I woke up this morning, I noticed he was ‘off his game.’ For one thing, he hadn’t come back upstairs to cuddle with me after his morning rendezvous with the elements. (Karl lets him out early, but Spartacus always – always – come back upstairs to cuddle with me. Every morning. Without fail.)

Anyway…when I came downstairs looking for my cuddle-bug, I found him outside, just standing underneath the bird feeders looking…lost. And forlorn. And frazzled, to be honest. The hair along his backbone was standing on edge – the way it looks when we walk past his buddies the wolfhounds and they talk smack to him.

It’s fine when his hair bristles at the abuse by his wolfhound buddies. It’s quite another when there’s no discernible…anything…going on.

His position the entire day – Photo: L.Weikel

Off His Game

I knew immediately that something was ‘off.’ He looked at me and the usual joy that beams out of his eyes wasn’t there. It was as if he was distracted, which perhaps he was. I think he was feeling ill and didin’t know what to do with those feelings.

I called him and chirruped in my most enthusiastic voice, but to no avail. He acted like he didn’t even want to climb the three steps to our porch. He did so, eventually, but not without exuding a sense of extreme malaise. There wasn’t even a hint of tail-wagging to be observed.

He drank a bit of water, but had no interest in food. I think I can count on one hand the times this boy has ever been disintererested in food. But…ok. Things happen. I was not going to get worried by a little stomach growler.

Things Only Got Worse

As the day wore on, Spartacus became more and more lethargic. Basically, he slept the entire day. But beyond that, he barely moved. That wouldn’t bother me all that much if the sleeping yielded even an ounce more pep. But it did not. We couldn’t even coax him to stand up.

Several more hours went by. The sun was setting and the moon was rising and it was time to take our walk. Spartacus, my baby. Can’t you shake this bug off yet, bunny?

I put his harness on in the hopes that it would inspire him to at least give a walk a try. Our walks are legend. And besides, I figured if he ate something that disagreed with him he might have to ‘get things moving’ in his innards and a walk might be just the ticket to his recovery.

Alas, no dice. He barely stood up long enough for me to secure his harness before immediately resuming his prone position on his massive pillow. Undaunted (and a bit shameless, I’ll admit), I offered him a treat. Nope.

Even the Wolfhounds Sensed Something

Even the wolfhounds recognized his absence. Entirely uncharacteristically, they turned their backs on me as I walked past them. Their buddy Start was nowhere to be seen. They couldn’t be bothered with his human.

“Bah. Where’s the little guy? We’re out of here.” Photo: L. Weikel

While I was walking, Karl brought him inside and tucked him into his softest dog bed. Once I came back, I had a feeling he might need to go to the bathroom. We took him out and he wandered a bit in the dark, but overall, it seemed to be a fruitless endeavor. Fruitless, except perhaps for a bit of some almost-dry heaves. (I’ve wracked my brain to think if he snuffled up anything on our walk last night, but I cannot remember anything unusual. And yes – he walked four miles with me yesterday…)

This is NOT the way Spartacus ever behaves.

Tigger: “What’s wrong with Spart, Mommy?” – Photo: L.Weikel

Present Status

Right now, Cletus is watching over his big brother. They’re both curled up, asleep on the mega pillow we have on our porch. Honestly, it’s the cutest indication of brotherly love. It’s fascinating – the cats all seem a bit perturbed. There’s definitely a disturbance in the force.

I’m not sure if Spart has a bit of a fever and feels better sleeping outside in the coolness of the night air, or what his motivation is for remaining outside. Is it just too much trouble to get up and come inside? It’s unsettling.

Believe me; once I write this and get it posted, I’m going outside and carrying him up to bed. There’s no way I’m going to let him sleep outside when he doesn’t feel well.

He’s my baby. And if he’s not acting more like himself by the time I wake up tomorrow morning, he’s going to visit his doctor. We can only hope it’s just something that needed time to work itself out.

Thanks for listening and maybe even sending some love to our pup.

Cletus having Spartacus’s back – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-68)