History is so important and yet, people seem to be so absorbed in the moment that they forget their past. There are certain things in life that should never be forgotten. When we forget, there is a window to make the same mistakes.
The Holocaust, D-day, Korea, Vietnam, and the Civil rights movement are a few subjects that should never leave our consciousness. People have made sacrifices that I myself can never put a price on.
I educate my daughter about these subjects so she will never take for granted the freedoms she has today. We all owe it to our children to tell these stories. We don�t want them to become complacent and we should all be vigilant. We should never forget.
As I�ve previously mentioned, I�ve been catching up on movies since Jackie is gone. Most of these movies I�m watching now have violent or disturbing content that I felt she shouldn�t be exposed to. I have shown Jackie documentaries on the Holocaust but this was very intense so I am saving it for later.
This movie I have to say, I didn�t watch it because I knew it would be emotionally hard to take in. I got the book years ago and every time I went to read it, I became so depressed that I would cry after reading about 3 pages. I felt I owed it to myself to someday watch it or at least read the book.
Rene� and I rented �Schindler�s List� Friday night. I knew he was pissed because he�d much rather watch some black and white Elizabeth Taylor (blech) movie than watch something as long as this one. I felt he was being shallow.
We shall now talk about the experience that I had when I watched this movie, �Schindler�s List�. Steven Spielberg captured it so well. I think I realized that when you see the naked starved people running across the courtyard that�s when it hits you that these people have been stripped of everything and are no longer considered human beings but are now animals.
It just made me physically ill that anyone could dehumanize people that way. I couldn�t even do that to Saddam�s cronies.
I told Renee he could go home if he didn�t want to see it. But I guess he knew it was important, an experience, because we sat down and watched it together.
Words cannot convey the utter horror, helplessness, anger, grief and disbelief I felt watching this.
How could that have happened? Was it only 60 or so years ago?
What was is about Hitler that made him such an enigmatic speaker? Was it the shiny eyes or the sharp intellect and mastery of mere words that turned a whole nation and many countries against the meek?
Many points in this movie, I had to stop and think. How would I feel if I was forced to wear a symbol of my religion on my arm, forced to quit my job, leave my home and live in squalor all because of my beliefs?
What if someone tried to take my child away and I knew they lied to me and my child and I find out they are going to kill my baby?
What if someone shot my mother or sister or brother or baby in front of me?
What if I had to hide to survive? What if those who found me were SS? How would I die?
What if because I didn�t work fast enough I was shot or beaten?
What if I was starved?
The utter horrors of Schindler�s List lie in the actuality of the events themselves. This really did happen. Six million human beings were slaughtered. Whole countries were void of any Jews. The Jews themselves, if they lived through the experience, had no where to go. There are still SchindlerJuden alive today. I am going to research that, I believe.
At the end, when he was now the hunted, instead of the hunter, and had to escape, he was surrounded by these people whose lives he'd repeatedly saved. I was so touched that I cried when Mr. Schindler came to the realization and panicked because he realized that all his material possessions could�ve saved a life. His car, a few. His watch, two.
He labored, swindled, lied and cheated to save thousands of people. Yet, he felt he didn�t do enough. He was horrified. I sobbed watching that scene.
On some level, I can identify with that. Sounds silly in the shadow of the biggest massacre in history, but I feel that if I can save one person from hopelessness I will have fulfilled my destiny.
I am constantly frustrated with my inability to make my way into the Victims Advocacy field. I want to help. I say it softly but I want to be loud, and I�m not sure anyone is listening.
I know that when you are victim of a violent crime, it affects the rest of your life. Sometimes, you have mental scars as well as what I have, physical scars. I know how irritating it is to hear from some oblivious person that �you should forget about what happened.�
When I hear that, I want to kick that person�s teeth in. It�s not easy to forget someone tried to kill me.
I think if I just get to one victim and say, �you can�t take back what happened to you, but you can decide how you live the rest of your life. You can�t let them victimize you forever. You will survive and you will be stronger for it.�
So many people are hurting, and I have love and reassurance to give. And right now, I have no way of giving that love back. I can only go to the Victim�s Advocacy Rally every spring and hope I make it on the news. I hope someday that Victim�s Causes will be important to us and our lawmakers. It only takes a second for you to become a victim and it shouldn�t take you a lifetime to get help.
I want to help people. I want to speak for those who�ve not found their voice and dammit someday I will. Y�all just know I�m going to be the biggest mouth in St. Louis by the time it�s over. Get ready.
This Mother�s Day weekend wasn�t as lonely as I anticipated. I didn�t have Jackie to spend it with and the only person I really spent time with was my Grandma. I did laundry; I sat outside and watched the storm come in. I had a brush with Oblivia, who was letting her kids play in the middle of the parking lot when the sky was lit up with lightning like the Fourth of July.
But I was able to escape. Thank God.
I was okay with not being with my daughter. It was a little hurtful that he didn�t get her to make me a card or something. But he�s always been a bit inconsiderate of my feelings, so I don�t know why I expected a change.
We have a peeping Tom again. I went to Walgreens last night and bought some tear gas. I�m not playing around with this guy like I did last year. This year, I see him in the dark; I�m going to spray him so much that his eyeballs are going to fall out. I�m sick of people like him.
I watched �Dante�s Peak� and �Never Been Kissed� this weekend. Both were really good.
On Sunday, I was really busy. I went to see Grandma, I did laundry and then Rene� and I went to McGurk�s in Soulard. It is a genuine Irish establishment and their spinach and artichoke ravioli were positively orgasmic.
Our waiter was a real Irishman too, and had that brogue. Meowww!!!
The food was fantastic.
But back to earlier that day, Grandma called me at the crack of dawn, okay, really 9:00 a.m. to make sure I was coming. �Lissy? You there?� I groggily fumbled for the phone and told her that indeed I was coming. Would she like McDonald�s or White Castle?
�Oh, get me a sausage biscuit with egg��
On the way over, I felt like my little gift was not enough so as I racked my brain for ideas, I took in the sights on the way down Broadway. Traffic was light so I took my time and enjoyed the scenery such as the run down houses and the best of them all, the Brewery.
I stopped at a roadside florist in Soulard, which was being run by two hotties. They were nice hotties, which I love even more. We talked about how one person really makes a difference in the world, and there�s not anything in the world that can really convey thanks for a good mother or mother figure. We were waxing poetic about mothers on the roadside. How funny!
Surveying the flowers, I was overwhelmed because they were obviously good quality flowers. I wasn�t quite sure what to buy because I wanted to get her flowers that captured her spiritual beauty. Something as colorful and sweet as she is.
Finally exasperated at my indecision, I settled on a variety of flowers, one each of almost every color. Yellow, pink and white carnations, peonies, baby�s breath, and lavender and some other things I couldn�t pronounce.
Grandma, I explained to the florist, was the only person who had some level of influence in my life who said, �You can do anything you want to do� always nodding when she said it. She gave me the spiritual boost I needed to make a life for myself. It seems on some level that success is a thing to hide in our family, that if you are trying to make your own destiny that you are hiding where you came from and that you are ashamed. I�m only ashamed I�m the seemingly only one who can accept my past and make a future for myself.
I wonder what those guys thought of someone that loves her Grandma (�don�t you call me Granny; I ain�t no old lady,� she�d always grumble) so much.
She made me a strong person who loves people way too much and gets crabby when she feels taken advantage of. Seems like Grandma held our family together for years, but that�s a huge job, and after a while, she just was content being Grandma. Someone else�s job now to be the glue.
She was not ashamed of being poor. She wasn�t ashamed of being uneducated or even na�ve. I�m myself am not ashamed, I know I come from a long line of country mouses turned city rats. I know that I lived in a house in an alley and that in the summertime we, the neighborhood kids, played in the monstrous spray of the fire hydrant that someone opened up for us. I know that we didn�t have money or even class, but we had our dignity. I won�t forget those memories, because they are what make me who I am.
Grandma answered the door, as always looking tired but thrilled I was there. Seems I always make an entrance at her house and I find myself usually embarrassed by her hugs and the barking dogs. Grandma is mostly Blackfoot Indian and about 5�ft 8. She�s solidly built but round in the stomach no matter what. Seems like hovering above poverty for years will do that do you when don�t have a steady supply of nutritious food.
Grandma looked very tired as always. She had her long hair loosely pinned up and was wearing a blue apron housecoat.
�Hi, Grandma, I missed you.� She quietly leaned in for the kiss on the cheek that I always delivered.
After we parted and I went into the dimly lit kitchen to put our food on the table. It doesn�t take much for me to be depressed by Grandma�s surroundings. Peeling, yellowing, wallpaper and flaking paint and just a general lack of light in her place contributes to a hopeless feeling that permeates her home. Seems she�s not really affected by it. That may be why she hasn�t moved yet.
Grandma shuffled in slowly and took a seat to my right while I pulled out her breakfast sandwich.
When I gave her the little gifts I�d gotten her, I finally felt I had gotten Grandma enough. She won�t allow you to make too big of a deal out of any holiday, so I was toeing the line. She always says, �You shouldn�t have.� And I always say, �It�s nothing compared to you Grandma.� It�s sounds clich� but in her case it�s true.
The flowers in addition to the gourmet jam I bough her was just right.
As far as getting someone something that�s dietarily good for them, you don�t tell a fat person not to eat pizza anymore than you tell anyone else what to eat. I mean, Grandma is a diabetic, but she is smart. She rations her portions. I watched her open the BlackCurrant Jam (from England, no less) and she tasted a tiny portion and after a sigh she closed it. I was happy to get Grandma something she could enjoy, not another useless plaque to put on her wall. She�s in her 70�s for God�s sake. I mean, how many pictures of a rose or of a momma bird and chicks or a mother and some kids can you get someone?
She just chuckled and beamed at me. I knew she was so pleased.
10:57 a.m. - 2003-05-12
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
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