A quote: “You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” ~~ Maya Angelou
I’ll start with a story …
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I remember when the young man moved into 5G, 3 doors down from me. I don’t social much but I was in the hall fumbling for keys and he was trying to direct a couple of movers holding an emerald green couch into his apartment.
Emerald green. Bold choice of color when even beige was a relief of too much gray. I had hopes for him.
We later met at the mailboxes in the lobby.
“Oh, you’re 5D,” he smiled.
“Yes, and you’re emerald couch,” I smiled back, “Now that introductions are made, young man, please knock on my door and let’s have coffee sometime.”
When they pass out your old lady creds, you get to be bold. A couple or three times a month, he’d stop by and we’d sit on my balcony, mugs of coffee and a plate of pastries.
William (never “Bill”) was polite, droll sense of humor and our talks were entertaining. Though, as time went on, I noticed that while we laughed, we never got beyond the surface. Oh, I could tell him about me, but anytime I asked about him, he would easily move on.
There was no girlfriend (or even a boyfriend). Sometimes I’d be introduced to a co-worker or two if I bumped into him in the lobby. He was vague about family – a dad somewhere, grandparents gone, mom … well, he shut down on that.
One day I heard commotion in the hallway and watched as the emerald green couch was being taken away and an older woman watched as a new gray couch was brought in its place.
Looks like Mom had arrived.
Over the next few days I tried to catch William in the lobby. Fail. So I grabbed my old lady creds and knocked on his door, smile ready and when she answered, her eyes narrowed at my invitation.
“I’m here now. He doesn’t need anyone else,” and the door closed.
I had had hopes.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.
Sarah hadn’t considered herself lonely. She had her circle of friends and the comfort of her faith, so she hadn’t felt she was living in an “empty” house, although she was now the only person in it. The memories of fifty years of marriage, of raising a family that might not have been as big as those of her ancestors but still was full of warmth…
And then she became aware of the shadow that was spreading across this big, beautiful country. There was no one specific moment when Everything Changed, but in retrospect she could see the shifts. The grumbling that wasn’t shushed, the cruel words not rebuffed, the complaints not countered.
To be certain, some of the earliest had seemed like legitimate concerns. How much could the needs of Cold War secrecy justify withholding vital information while obtaining consent, reducing to mere lip service the core principles of ethical experimentation declared in response to some of the most heinous medical crimes in the history of science?
But so many of these “concerns” were focusing not upon the people who perpetrated these experiments, but the people whose lives had been reshaped by them. She couldn’t put her finger on just where it crossed the line to punishing the victims, but when people started talking about visible indicators to mark out people whose genetics had been changed, she could tell it was going beyond reasonable medical alerts to harmful stigma.
And then came the day when people who openly objected were targeted. It was then that Sarah had decided to take action. Nothing obvious, but quiet little ways to help those who were trying to hold the line. A cache of cookies here, some bottles of water there, a message of “you are not alone” to bolster courage.
I may be too old to march on City Hall or our state capitol, but I can still help those who can. Maybe we can stop it before it gets to the point of people disappearing in the middle of the night.
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