The #MeToo movement was used today as a tool to feed
into the media's never-ending and ever-failing quest to prove Hillary Clinton an
enabler and protector of abusers. And so today there are hundreds of stories
floating titled things such as - - "Who is Burns Strider?" and
"Five Things You Need To Know About Burns Strider." Well, I know Burns
Strider have ten things for you to know about him. To know Burns is to know a
true friend.
Canoe in the Rapids, by Winslow Homer
1.) Loyal and available to his friends, Burns Strider is a guy who will stay on
the phone with a childhood friend until 4:00 am when she is suffering from a
life crisis and needs support.
2.) Burns is the friend who will invite you
for coffee at his office and tell you stories about growing up in Grenada, Mississippi.
You’ll enjoy the stories. They are colorful and vibrant and you'll walk away not
exactly sure what any of those stories had to do with anything. You will go to
sleep. You will wake up in the morning with your eyes as big as the planets and
understand that the point was to live authentically. To tell the truth. To tell
your own truth. To live your own truth. To be proud of your
truth, warts and all. And you will carry this message with you wherever you go.
And you will think of the words “lemony yellow aura,” forever, with great meaning.
3.) He is the guy who will meet you for dinner on a Tuesday night between
dropping his kids off at sports practice and picking them up because you had a
panic attack at work and are afraid of the future and are forgetting to
breathe.
4.) Burns does not let his friends off the hook. He tells us he loves us and
worries about us and that he better get a call back and when he knows
everything is not ok we are not allowed to say that everything is ok.
5.) Burns is a guy who might not tell you
that a piece of kale is stuck in your teeth during a lunch because he knows
there is a wall of mirrors that the two of you will pass as you exit and you
will see it and try to remove it with a fingernail. When you do this, he might
encourage you to just leave it. After all, it is important to be authentic.
6.) When confused, a friend can text Burns
at 10:30 pm on a Saturday night and ask, “Why is my boyfriend hiding copious
amounts of Kings Hawaiian bread rolls up high in the cupboards of our kitchen?”
Promptly, he will respond: “Because they make the best sandwiches. They really
do.”
7.) Burns loves his children (even more
than he loves Mississippi State Bulldogs sports). His sons are his life.
He is devoted to documenting nearly everything they do around town in DC, on
road trips, and on charmed adventures. He invites the rest of us to witness the
love and the celebrations of their life together.
8.) The relationship Burns has with the
Clintons is a sacred one. He will tell funny stories about diet cheating on the
campaign trail with former President Bill Clinton, or when Secretary Hillary
Clinton scolded him about procrastinating on a health concern. He will let you
know how and what they are doing, but that’s it. He is like that with all of his
friends. He protects us all from whatever we need protection.
9.) He wears a Make Mercy Great Again hat.
#MMGA
10.) His southern accent allows you to enjoy it when he is
making fun of you. I was once complaining about paying for my storage unit back
in Ohio - and within the context of my very nomadic life - Burns suggested that I make one of those interactive maps with blinking lights to
show all the cities where my possessions reside and he said, "And over
here, in Ohio, this is where I keep my books and grandparents’ furniture, but
if you want to hear about the emotional
things I have stored here, you will have to pay extra.”
Lastly, Mary Oliver, a poet both Burns and Secretary Clinton enjoy
wrote, “I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing—that the light is everything—that it is more than the
sumof each flawed blossom rising and
falling. And I do.”
On a blustery Friday evening in Dupont Circle, I had some time before meeting friends for drinks so I popped into Kramer Books, meandered around for a bit and grabbed what I considered a sure way to escape for an hour: Selected Writings of Truman Capote. I headed to the narrow cove of a bar for a quick dress rehearsal drink.
Overlapping voices echoed in a symphonic cacophony.
That was how all of Washington sounded in those winter months. The election of Barack Obama had lifted something off the city's shoulders. I eased into the embrace of the fine prose of Capote, who would have described that crisp, renewal of our spirit in those months, - - the relief and community that we shared too - - for a moment in time, we could be who we really are.
In the essay "Bobby," Capote described Bobby Kennedy's sweetness and charm. The parties at Marilyn's house. The long nights of laughter in Hollywood. The essay may have been titled "Bobby," but it may as well have been called "Truman". Special note was made at the conclusion of the essay -- when Bobby was assassinated, Capote cried. That's how powerful this little runt of an Irish Catholic on Marilyn's couch was. -- powerful enough to make Himself cry.
Motioning for a second glass of wine, balanced on my lonely perch at the bar, I thought of what an anti-social, alcoholic, son-of-a-bitch Capote truly was. Eye-roll. Glance at cell phone.
In remembering reading about Capote remembering Bobby, my mind scanned images -- not of a murdered family in Kansas or of Audrey Hepburn in black and white -- but to Philip Seymour Hoffman's surrender on screen when he truly became Truman Capote. That's the type of work Philip Seymour Hoffman created in film. He surrendered to the role of the tormented, in Capote, the otherwise forgotten, as the hospice nurse in Magnolia, and in the role as the critical liaison between Mr. Lebowski and Mr. Lebowski, - - a voice for those who just want a rug back because it ties the room together. I think it is safe to say that Philip Seymour Hoffman gave us a chance to find our own redemption in the experiences of his characters. But most of us will never kiss Marky Mark.
I read on a blog yesterday that we won't find George Clooney or Matt Damon dead in an apartment with a syringe piercing their arms. We don't have to worry about losing most of today's mainstream actors to the fatal disease of addiction, it said. Even Matt Damon's stellar performance in Team America can't earn him a place in the same category as Hoffman. Those guys just aren't made of the stuff Philip Seymour Hoffman was made of.
He was made of something different.
And after a rush of euphoric sensation, Philip Seymour Hoffman peacefully went to sleep for good. He will never again draw out of us our own need for self-forgiveness. He needed a remedy on Sunday, and we needed the redemption we received from him through the years. I guess we've all gotten that for which our essence begs. Thank you for that, Philip Seymour Hoffman. May you now rest in peace, forever separated from your broken heart.
The Last Sermon (March 1980) Archbishop Oscar Romero
Let no one be offended because we use the divine words read at our mass to shed light on the social, political and economic situation of our people. Not to do so would be unchristian. Christ desires to unite himself with humanity, so that the light he brings from God might become life for nations and individuals. I know many are shocked by this preaching and want to accuse us of forsaking the gospel for politics. But I reject this accusation. I am trying to bring to life the message of the Second Vatican Council and the meetings at Medellin and Puebla. The documents from these meetings should not just be studied theoretically.
They should be brought to life and translated into the real struggle to preach the gospel as it should be for our people. Each week I go about the country listening to the cries of the people, their pain from so much crime, and the ignominy of so much violence. Each week I ask the Lord to give me the right words to console, to denounce, to call for repentance. And even though I may be a voice crying in the desert, I know that the church is making the effort to fulfill its mission....
Every country lives its own "exodus"; today El Salvador is living its own exodus. Today we are passing to our liberation through a desert strewn with bodies and where anguish and pain are devastating us. Many suffer the temptation of those who walked with Moses and wanted to turn back and did not work together. It is the same old story. God, however, wants to save the people by making a new history....
History will not fail; God sustains it. That is why I say that insofar as historical projects attempt to reflect the eternal plan of God, to that extent they reflect the kingdom of God. This attempt is the work of the church. Because of this, the church, the people of God in history, is not attached to any one social system, to any political organization, to any party. The church does not identify herself with any of those forces because she is the eternal pilgrim of history and is indicating at every historical moment what reflects the kingdom of God and what does not reflect the kingdom of God. She is the servant of the Kingdom of God.
The great task of Christians must be to absorb the spirit of God's kingdom and, with souls filled with the kingdom of God, to work on the projects of history. It's fine to be organized in popular groups; it's all right to form political parties; it's all right to take part in the government. It's fine as long as you are a christian who carries the reflection of the kingdom of God and tries to establish it where you are working, and as long as you are not being used to further worldly ambitions. This is the great duty of the people of today. My dear Christians, I have always told you, and I will repeat, that the true liberators of our people must come from us Christians, from the people of God. Any historical plan that's not based on what we spoke of in the first point-the dignity of the human being, the love of God, the kingdom of Christ among people-will be a fleeting project. Your project, however, will grow in stability the more it reflects the eternal design of God. It will be a solution of the common good of the people every time, if it meets the needs of the people.... Now I invite you to look at things through the eyes of the church, which is trying to be the kingdom of God on earth and so often must illuminate the realities of our national situation.
We have lived through a tremendously tragic week. I could not give you the facts before, but a week ago last Saturday, on 15 March, one of the largest and most distressing military operations was carried out in the countryside. The villages affected were La Laguna, Plan de Ocotes and El Rosario. The operation brought tragedy: a lot of ranches were burned, there was looting, and-inevitably-people were killed. In La Laguna, the attackers killed a married couple, Ernesto Navas and Audelia Mejia de Navas, their little children, Martin and Hilda, thirteen and seven years old, and eleven more peasants.
Other deaths have been reported, but we do not know the names of the dead. In Plan de Ocotes, two children and four peasants were killed, including two women. In El Rosario, three more peasants were killed. That was last Saturday.
Last Sunday, the following were assassinated in Arcatao by four members of ORDEN: peasants Marcelino Serrano, Vincente Ayala, twenty-four years old, and his son, Freddy. That same day, Fernando Hernandez Navarro, a peasant, was assassinated in Galera de Jutiapa, when he fled from the military.
Last Monday, 17 March, was a tremendously violent day. Bombs exploded in the capital as well as in the interior of the country. The damage was very substantial at the headquarters of the Ministry of Agriculture. The campus of the national university was under armed siege from dawn until 7 P.M. Throughout the day, constant bursts of machine-gun fire were heard in the university area. The archbishop's office intervened to protect people who found themselves caught inside.
On the Hacienda Colima, eighteen persons died, at least fifteen of whom were peasants. The administrator and the grocer of the ranch also died. The armed forces confirmed that there was a confrontation. A film of the events appeared on TV, and many analyzed interesting aspects of the situation.
At least fifty people died in serious incidents that day: in the capital, seven persons died in events at the Colonia Santa Lucia; on the outskirts of Tecnillantas, five people died; and in the area of the rubbish dump, after the evacuation of the site by the military, were found the bodies of four workers who had been captured in that action.
Sixteen peasants died in the village of Montepeque, thirty-eight kilometers along the road to Suchitoto. That same day, two students at the University of Central America were captured in Tecnillantas: Mario Nelson and Miguel Alberto Rodriguez Velado, who were brothers. The first one, after four days of illegal detention, was handed over to the courts. Not so his brother, who was wounded and is still held in illegal detention. Legal Aid is intervening on his behalf.
Amnesty International issued a press release in which it described the repression of the peasants, especially in the area of Chalatenango. The week's events confirm this report in spite of the fact the government denies it. As I entered the church, I was given a cable that says, "Amnesty International confirmed today [that was yesterday] that in El Salvador human rights are violated to extremes that have not been seen in other countries." That is what Patricio Fuentes (spokesman for the urgent action section for Central America in Swedish Amnesty International) said at a press conference in Managua, Nicaragua.
Fuentes confirmed that, during two weeks of investigations he carried out in El Salvador, he was able to establish that there had been eighty-three political assassinations between 10 and 14 March. He pointed out that Amnesty International recently condemned the government of El Salvador, alleging that it was responsible for six hundred political assassinations. The Salvadorean government defended itself against the charges, arguing that Amnesty International based its condemnation on unproved assumptions.
Fuentes said that Amnesty had established that in El Salvador human rights are violated to a worse degree than the repression in Chile after the coupe d'etat. The Salvadorean government also said that the six hundred dead were the result of armed confrontations between army troops and guerrillas. Fuentes said that during his stay u l El Salvador, he could see that the victims had been tortured before their deaths and mutilated afterward.
The spokesman of Amnesty International said that the victims' bodies characteristically appeared with the thumbs tied behind their backs. Corrosive liquids had been applied to the corpses to prevent identification of the victims by their relatives and to prevent international condemnation, the spokesman added. Nevertheless, the bodies were exhumed and the dead have been identified. Fuentes said that the repression carried out by the Salvadorean army was aimed at breaking the popular organizations through the assassination of their leaders in both town and country.
According to the spokesman of Amnesty International, at least three thousand five hundred peasants have fled from their homes to the capital to escape persecution. "We have complete lists in London and Sweden of young children and women who have been assassinated for being organized," Fuentes stated....
I would like to make a special appeal to the men of the army, and specifically to the ranks of the National Guard, the police and the military. Brothers, you come from our own people. You are killing your own brother peasants when any human order to kill must be subordinate to the law of God which says, "Thou shalt not kill." No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. No one has to obey an immoral law. It is high time you recovered your consciences and obeyed your consciences rather than a sinful order. The church, the defender of the rights of God, of the law of God, of human dignity, of the person, cannot remain silent before such an abomination. We want the government to face the fact that reforms are valueless if they are to be carried out at the cost of so much blood. In the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cries rise to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you in the name of God: stop the repression.
The church preaches your liberation just as we have studied it in just as we have studied it in the holy Bible today. It is a liberation that has, above all else, respect for the dignity of the person, hope for humanity's common good, and the transcendence that looks before all to God and only from God derives its hope and its strength.
My friend Fred has spent more than half of his life in prison and was on death row for seven years, and is currently serving a life sentence at Riverbend Maximum Security Institution. We met two years ago when I was going to Riverbend weekly and have corresponded ever since. I've previously blogged about my classes there. Anyway, I just received a letter from him that I want to share. As a friend of Fred's, my heart aches. Please keep Fred in your prayers.
". . . I am sorry for the delay but things have not been pleasant for me. There is a force greater than I and the energy from that force keeps me going. My oldest son was murdered. While visiting his aunt who lives next door to his grandmother, the unthinkable happened. An older guy - 56 years old, was visiting his aunt as well. This guy visited quite often. His aunt and the guy sats around the house and drink alcohol as a hobby. My son and this guy got into a verbal confrontation. Outdoors right in front of the house. My son decided to walk away and went back inside. The guy decides to leave. He goes home and return at the door with a knock. My son's aunt answers the door and the guy announced, "I come back to kill him." He is referring to my son. He walks over to the sofa where my son is sitting. He pulls out a 38 revolver and points it at my 19 year old first born. My son gets up off the sofa and slowly backs away. My son repeatedly ask the guy, "so man you're gonna kill me??" Before he could utter it again, the guy pulls the trigger and shoots him in the chest killing him as the bullet goes through his lungs. The guy sats down on a stool near the door and sats the gun down on a coffee table. He tells his aunt, uncle who was also present in the home that, "I came to do what I planned to do. He's dead and won't be coming back. You all can do whatever you want with me." No one made a move and my son's uncle preceded to continue drinking. The guy is currently being held on murder charges in the state of Mississippi... I am deeply sad, hurting and feel helpless... Kate my friend, you stay strong and I am here for you. When you feel like the world is against you remember that God is always with you."
In Port-au-Prince during the summer of 2008, I sat down next to a man and his daughter for a meal. When white people encounter one another in Haiti, the first question is, “so what brings you to Haiti?” His name was Geert Van Der Kolk, a Dutch novelist, living in Washington, DC. He was in Port-au-Prince after a visit to the south to Les Cayes and the small island off the coast, Il a vache. I, having spent two previous summers in Les Cayes, and having done research on Il a vache (the tiny island where I met Dr. Chris), my interest was spiked. I assumed he was interested in humanitarian work, Pwoje Espwa, or church twining, and therefore he and I would know the same people. I was wrong.
Geert had plans of moving to Il a vache to build a sail boat entirely by hand (with the locals help) with only a hammer and a machete, made from local wood, palm trees and bamboo, in the tradition of Haitian fishermen. He intended then to sail this boat to Florida in a reenactment of sorts of the thousands and thousands of journeys of “Haitian boat people” who risk their lives to illegally migrate to the US where there is food, clean water, jobs, and health care for them and their children. This would become the topic of his next book. I remember thinking, “Wow, Haiti really does attract all kinds.” But then Geert continued, and shared that in 1999 he had been sailing with his family in the Bahamas and there was a call of distress and he was involved in trying to rescue Haitians from a capsize. Twenty Haitians died. An all too common story.
I shared my thoughts about the United States “Wet Feet Dry Feet” policy and realized in our conversation that Geert’s sailing dream was not one only of healing to honor this experience ten years ago, nor was it mere adventure, - - but one of social criticism and love of the Haitian people. I never saw Geert again after that dinner.
About a month ago, my friend Dan called me from New York. He had recently returned home after three years working in Haiti. Dan and I met in 2006. We have had hours upon hours of conversation, as well as numerous shared adventures in 2007 when I was conducting my thesis research; (I consider a boat ride home to Cayes from Il a vache to be one of those adventures.) He tells stories like no one I know. So Dan called to tell me that I needed to stop by my undergrad Alma Mater American University here in DC to see Geert’s boat. The guy really did it! And unbeknownst to me, Dan knew Geert and had been going out to Il a vache to hang out with him and the boat builders. Dan witnessed the boat from start to finish.
This afternoon I visited the boat “Sipriz” - - Haitian Kreyol for “surprise” - - as well as the beautiful exhibit at the Katzen Art Center at American University. The boat is outside on the lawn, exposed to all diplomats and policy makers who drive through Ward Circle from their million dollar homes to the halls where the destinies of Haitians are decided. I walked around the boat, touched it, and stood in awe that something so fragile could survive so much. Inside the exhibit, the beautiful bird on the sail was displayed on the wall as if it were one of those large Monet canvasses at the MET. As I watched the video a woman asked me if I knew anything about Haiti, and if it was really as poor as she heard it was. She asked me questions like “do the children pee and bathe in the same water?” We talked for a bit and I told her I had met Geert once, and that I had been to Il a vache, and I told her she should try to visit Haiti.
I own only one sharp knife. It is small. Tuesday night I was told of its formal name: “a paring knife” and I was also notified that such a knife would by no means be sufficient for a “normal person’s kitchen”. My disinterest in all things culinary is nothing new. I’ve baked no-bake cookies and made 10 Minute Rice in three minutes. One boyfriend joyfully noshed on raw cauliflower after an earnest attempt to serve him baked eggplant for dinner, and another asked in his annoying Afro-British accent, “Have others tried to domesticate you, and they’ve failed?” - - Making me sound less like a woman who prefers to have food prepared for her and more like a feral beast. Somehow though, I have survived in the United States sans the ability to cook, and also without a television or an alarm clock, for what it is worth.
The controversy surrounding my paring knife and the frustration it caused Ben really got me thinking about the things people do in their own lives that cause me such distress when I am in their space. You know, those things that just amaze me that somehow they too manage to survive. Things like the oh-so-common Hansel and Gretel sort of trail of shoes and dirty clothes through the apartment that so many boys seem to be fine with. Or how my friends in the burbs choose to drive their two tons of steel every time they need something from the CVS around the corner. Or the fact that people say they don’t have enough time to exercise or write notes. How do these people survive, I wonder?
