Merry Christmas

I am reminded that Christmas Day is like every other day on the calendar in that there is no break from life's joys or sorrows. For every story I hear of a child's wonder and unique perspective there is one about a loved one's sudden passing or a trauma that has gripped a family.  Life has its own consistent rhythm.

Yet, Christmas is like no other day when we allow ourselves to embrace its love no matter what life is presenting to us.  The gift is to remember this love even when it is disguised every other day of the year.  This is my Christmas prayer. 

Two holiday songs have risen to the top as I choose music at this time of year. I feel so peaceful listening to them both. One is "Douglas Mountain" performed by Raffi and the other is written and performed by Mindy Smith, "Santa Will Find You."

One song brings light and the other reminds us that we are loved and will always be found by this love.  These are my Christmas wishes.

"Douglas Mountain"

Snows are a falling on Douglas Mountain,
Snows are a falling so deep.
Snows are a falling on Douglas Mountain,
Putting all the bears to sleep.
Putting the bears to sleep.

Trimming the wicks on Douglas Mountain,
Shining my chimney so bright.
Trimming the wicks on Douglas Mountain,
So God can bring the night.
So God can bring the night.

"Santa Will Find You"

If you're far away on this holiday eve
And you're dreamin' of being at home
If you're worried at all that you may be forgotten
You should know that you aren't alone

'Cause you're there and you're shining
Bright like a beacon, bright as a northern star
So, don't worry because
Santa will find you wherever you are
Santa will find you tonight

If you're listening for reindeer and sleigh bells
As they jingle and tap on the roof
You're awake, piled in blankets
With your cousins

And you hope there'll be presents for you

'Cause you're there and you're shining
Bright like a beacon, bright as a northern star
So, don't worry because
Santa will find you wherever you are
Santa will find you tonight

It's the time and the season to bring lovers together
Never let distance keep you apart
With the spirit of Christmas
You'll never be lost
If you truly believe in your heart

When you're there and you're shining
Bright like a beacon, bright as a northern star
So, don't worry because
Santa will find you wherever you are
Santa will find you

Don't worry because
Santa will find you wherever you are
Santa will find you tonight

Merry Christmas......

B-One

Scanning the pile of saved newspaper sections on the ottoman of my favorite comfy chair, I recently came across one that had several articles of interest - details of a yoga practice for beginners, tips for indulging in a Caribbean Christmas, the controversy over full body scans at airport security, a look at the state of today's bingo halls.  It was no contest - bingo halls all the way.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/28/nyregion/28bingo.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=bingo%20in%20the%20blood&st=cse

The bingo hall experience is one from my childhood and it was given to me by my maternal grandmother, Elizabeth. Much to the chagrin of her husband and my grandfather, Vincent, Elizabeth was enamored with attending bingo games.  And to avoid Vincent's terse displeasure about her indulgence in this hobby, Elizabeth devised various shrewed tactics to get to the bingo table.  Elizabeth had many hobbies and led a very full, active life, but this one facet just fascinated me because her participation in bingo transformed her into a mischievous young girl whose eyes twinkled when she was among her fellow bingo babes.

And yes, the bingo hall was filled mostly with women and a smattering of daring men.   The men were either there out of boredom or attempting to make some money. They also could hold their own in a hall full of the other gender. While the game does not exude masculine traits, the location is, in my opinion, quite manly in its starkness.  Back then it was like a smoke-filled boxing arena minus the ring.  Blaring artificial lighting, monotonous rows of chipped-top tables, clanging metal chairs - nothing soft about it.  Yet, it was a haven mostly populated with female attendees. Talk about the feminine mystique! 

I do not recall how I came to be the partner in crime with Elizabeth, but it probably had something to do with being the youngest grandchild and providing a smokescreen for her stealthy departure.  I am sure Vincent was told we were heading to one location together, while the bingo hall was our real target. Elizabeth used to tell me not to utter the 'b-word' - she instead called it 'the secret.'  (She was light years ahead of author Rhonda Byrne's highly touted controversial book, "The Secret.")  Vincent was no fool.  He just could not compete with Elizabeth's focus.  They were quite a pair. I especially loved it when Elizabeth would attend church bingo, whose pedigree edged slightly above the pedestrian bingo hall.  Jesus and I both served as a cover for the ever clever, always motivated, Elizabeth. 

It makes me chuckle to recall our bingo hall moments. While playing the game of chance would seem to be a lighthearted endeavor as a little bit of gambling and some camaraderie blended into one austere setting.  But no.  It was a gathering of formidable players whose interest was twofold: hearing the next number and being the first one to yell the word, "Bingo!"   Simple. Direct. Primitive.

What fascinated me the most in those number-filled halls were the tabletops carpeted with seemingly limitless rows of bingo cards. The introduction of multi-colored bingo daubers (yes, that is their official name) revolutionized the speed of the game, yet it is one incident that occurred during the time when players covered the cards with plastic discs that is seared into my memory.  I did not witness this firsthand, but the story holds magnum opus status in my family.  It also explains Vincent's disdain for bingo.

He once attended a game with Elizabeth. Vincent, who emigrated from Italy early in the 20th century, could only write his name and never learned to read during his eighty-plus years on the planet. Incredibly, he did all of the food shopping and scanned the supermarket fliers, looking at the food photos and the numbers associated with them to discern the weekly prices of lettuce or chicken. He adapted magnificently. 

Except for bingo.  

Apparently, in the heat of a series of bingo games one evening, Vincent came close multiple times to having the needed numbers to win.  In his last game, he thought he heard his number which would have catapulted him to the winner's circle.  He was mistaken.  Embarrassed and frustrated, Vincent said nothing, but in an embittered gesture, swept his cards with one angry thrust of his arm and threw them along with their companion chips up toward the harshly lit bingo hall ceiling, creating a confetti shower of disappointment.   

With no words, Vincent acted out his final say about bingo. 

Elizabeth was mortified but undeterred.  I imagine this is the opening that ushered me on to the gambling scene.  I would sit next to my grandmother, fascinated by the many cards, the colored chips, daubers, the mixed scents of perfume and smoke, and the clarion call of numbers with their associated letters.  I sometimes would even get my very own card (well, really one of Elizabeth's, but I could pretend it was mine).  She and some of her nearby friends would rub my head often as a good luck gesture.  Playing a minor role in her theatrical past-time brought me such joy.  Feeling included in this seductive, mystifying effort where players could yell out one word of victory and momentarily be a winner hooked me.

Sitting alongside this strong, generous, and humorous woman was the real gift in our bingo hall forays.  Thank you Elizabeth.  In bingo terms, to B-One with you was sweet victory.

Walking Into History

It was a warm November day in New Orleans and six-year-old Ruby Nell was starting first grade at a new school.  Her father was very concerned about the change to this school, but her mother felt more confident, yet anxious.  Ruby's first day was not only momentous for her, but for her country. 

Ruby was the first black child to attend a white school in New Orleans. She became the symbol of integration in 1960. 

Fifty years later, Ruby Nell Bridges recalled those first months at William Frantz Elementary School.  This week she was a guest on National Public Radio's program "Tell Me More."  She shared her memories of walking up to school with her parents and several US Marshalls amidst a huge crowd of white people screaming and shaking their fists at this little girl.  "I thought it was like Mardi Gras with all the hooting and hollering," Ruby stated. "I really did not have any idea why all those people were outside the school."
http://www.npr.org/2010/12/01/131727013/Wisdom-From-A-Trailblazer-Ruby-Bridges-Talks-Racism-In-Education

Ruby's parents deliberately did not mention the crowds or their purpose to their young girl because they thought she would be upset that the hateful protest was focused on her.  In a striking contrast, Ruby was warmly met by her white teacher, Mrs. Henry.  Mrs. Henry allowed Ruby to pick any seat in the room and she chose one in the front row.  Once Ruby was settled in, she could hear the sound of doors opening and closing and people shuffling up and down the hallways.  White parents were taking their children out of school because of what this little girl represented to them.  For the rest of that school year, Ruby and Mrs. Henry were the only two people in the first grade at William Frantz Elementary. In fact, the school had very, very few students attending classes in the other grades. 

Norman Rockwell's 1963 painting
"The Problem We All Live With."



One of the images that has stayed with Ruby, and which caused her to have some sleepless nights, was a box that the protesters placed on the sidewalk outside her school every morning and afternoon.  It was a child-size coffin containing a black baby doll. Fortunately Ruby also had some pleasant memories from her first grade year, many of which were with Mrs. Henry, who taught her pupil with the same enthusiasm she would have had for a full class of students. 

Ruby is no stranger to feeling battered by seemingly unbeatable odds. She continues to live in New Orleans and was among the thousands of people who had homes destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. The strain of her attendance at the integrated elementary school 50 years ago eventually put such stress on her parents marriage that the couple separated when she was in sixth grade. Ruby noted that her parents did not discuss the role integration played in their eventual divorce, but the damage was already done.



Ruby Nell Bridges, 2010

This month Ruby, along with New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu and his wife Cheryl, are co-sponsoring the First Annual New Orleans Children's Book Festival.  "I've participated in so many book festivals across the country. And I thought, well, you know, we here in New Orleans have a festival for everything you can imagine, but we had not had a festival for kids to celebrate reading and literacy. And so it was something that I really wanted to do, and I thought this was a great opportunity to try and commemorate and celebrate the 50th anniversary," Ruby explained on the radio show. The festival is part of a commemoration of the 50th anniversary of Ruby's historic walk into elementary school.  When asked about her opinion of integration, Ruby replied, "I believe integration has intrinsic value." 

1960 school integration protesters



Integration. I am so distracted with wrapping my thoughts around sending my six-year-old child past an angry mob of adults who are carrying hateful signs and making vicious gestures that I need to address that first.  Ruby did not yet understand her own bravery.  Her parents understood. They were all too aware of the risks and weighed them against their feelings about equality and who has the right to a good education. Their bravery knocks me back on my heels 50 years later. Hate is fear that has no bottom. I think integration is one way to equal the education playing field and I feel it became an answer partially due to how the school tax base is structured.  Instead of moving money, move the children.  I believe leveling the funding playing field is a more substantive way to go so all schools have more balanced resources to be safe, clean, up-to-date places of learning.  That is a bit of a pipe dream as long as the design of school districts and the taxes they receive are the geographic equivalent of walled cities.  Everything stays in and nothing gets out.   

In the NPR interview, Ruby said she supports initiatives that give all children the same access to the same education.  Her concern was the all too familiar scenario where children in poor areas face lacking opportunity while those in more affluent areas having an abundance.  "There are two kinds of parallel dialogues going on. One is that, you know, the whole reason that people wanted integrated schools was not just because they wanted to go to school with people of different races, but because of - they wanted to end the political invisibility that came with segregation. They wanted access to the same schools, the same textbooks, good facilities as the white kids had, and integration was seen as the way to achieve it."

She continued, "Now there are some people who are saying, you know what? Forget all that. We put all this effort into access and integration and so forth. The real issue is: What are kids learning? And it doesn't matter if they learn in all-black or Latino or all-white schools. It matters that they are learning. What you have to say about that?"

"Tell Me More" host Michel Martin ends each interview asking her guests for any wisdom they have to share.  Ruby Nell Bridges waxed eloquently, "I always say the lesson that I took away is the same lesson Dr. King tried to teach us before he was taken away from us: you absolutely cannot judge a person by the color of their skin. You have to allow yourself an opportunity to get to know them. And racism is something that we, as adults, have kept alive. We pass it on to our kids. None of our kids come into the world knowing anything about disliking one another. And that's the wisdom that I took away from that experience, and that is the wisdom that I pass on to kids across the country."

Through My Eyes is the title of Ruby Bridges book about her experience 50 years ago. Her website is:   http://www.rubybridges.com/home.htm