I have a pretty good set of boundaries that allow me to follow the political conversations of the day. But this morning, I am distraught.
It is my custom to check into the world every morning with several on-line news media that offer different perspectives. This morning one of my usual sources included an op-ed piece with some inflammatory statements regarding last night's CNN Tea Party presidential debate. I was torn about pursuing the reliability of this particular op-ed piece. I did not want to watch excerpts from the debate. If what this particular writer stated was true, the pain in my heart would only grow. Yet, my horror would not let me blow-off the possibility that what was referenced actually happened.
It has always been our policy on this blog to not spread inaccurate information. My dilemma: other than venting with close friends, I was unwilling to write my reflections in any public way. Finally I could not stand it and listened to video clips. Indeed, the op-ed writer was reacting to the televised debate as it actually happened.
What disturbed me the most was when a question was posed to Ron Paul about the hypothetical plight of a man, who opted not to carry health insurance, needing considerable medical care if he was to live. Now I know Ron Paul's position that in a non-socialist country, people ought to be able to do as they please and take responsibility for the consequences. It was the audience's response that horrified me. As the questioner pushed Ron Paul about whether the man should be allowed die and not receive medical care , the audience broke out in applause. Later, the audience booed Ron Paul for saying that not all Muslims are terrorists.
Compassion? What is happening in my country? Everyone for themselves and damn the rest? Have we taken down the welcome sign that greeted my immigrant grandparents? Do we let people die without treatment, even if they have made the foolish choice opt out of health insurance? Is our fear of everyone who looks different or worships in a different way sufficient grounds to call the whole lot of them terrorists?
When I back away from this segment of the population who advocate such extreme positions, I slowly regain my belief in this country in which I live. Another news article today described how a motorcyclist swerved to avoid hitting a car and ended up under the car, which burst into flames. People who observed what happened tipped the burning car far enough so that someone else could pull the man into safety. Split-second reactions on their part saved his life. Nobody asked him if he had insurance - or if he was a Muslim.
When I watched excerpts from the commemoration of 9-11, I was equally proud of my fellow Americans. The tributes made were not hate-filled or fear-filled. They came from people who have struggled honestly with the events ten years ago, some of them still missing loved ones who died.
Home-made jam? On my kitchen counter stand our latest batches of jam. Such a simple, homely tribute to ordinary life. Jam for the coming winter, some made from our own fruit. I remind myself that life is not about hate and fear. Life is about compassion. Compassion toward my neighbors. Compassion toward the people who live in my city. Compassion for people everywhere, who go about their ordinary lives. Some of us make jam. Some of us gather with friends and family. And some of us suffer terrible losses.
I think I need to stand in my kitchen for a while and admire our jam.
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