General John Bell

Last night while discussing my currently-in-process move to Salt Lake with a recently acquired friend, the conversation turned to pros and cons of the city compared to others nationwide. Though my overall assessment of our fair capital is one of glowing praise, I did promptly come up with the complaint that it is a bit lacking in diversity. Probably to his later regret, New Friend challenged this, questioning whether there is really much benefit to “diversity” for diversity’s sake or whether it’s mostly just rhetoric that leads to poor execution of presumably good intentions—patronizing acts of putting a person’s culture on display for others to ooh and ahh over. Unfortunately and unfairly for N.F., his casual response to my observance led to an onslaught of my own brand of rhetoric, as those who have been acquainted with me longer would have known that once given the opportunity to discuss my thoughts on diversity/racism/integration/affirmative action/ethnocentrism/white privilege/blah/blah blah/blah blah blah, I just can’t seem to shut my mouth.

I won’t go into too much detail about my ideas here (since you, dear reader, didn’t ask), but I will say that I believe so firmly that genuinely coming to know and understand people outside of your own cultural background yields overwhelming good for you as an individual and for us as a society. The means for achieving a legitimate understanding of other groups may be up for debate, but as far as I’m concerned, the results of that achievement are not. Greater interaction and understanding lead to greater compassion, greater cooperation, greater respect, and greater equality. My admittedly idealist and probably biased views lead me to feel that so much of the conflict across the neighborhood or the country or the world would be avoided if we weren’t all so insulated with our own kind—gender/race/religion/age/nationality/anything else in an EEO disclaimer—and truly were able and willing to see things through the perspective of another and recognize the value of both the similarities and the differences we have.

When the news broke of the tragedy at Ft. Hood this afternoon, I felt compelled to stick close to my computer screen and obsessively refresh google news every minute or two. I’m sure it’s obvious but I have to note that the incident hit close to home for me. I grew up on army posts; two of my friends from high school are currently stationed at Ft. Hood; it recalled memories of when my dad was among those targeted in a shooting at Ft. Bragg 14 years ago. As the updates trickled out and the body count rose, I found myself hoping desperately that the release of the shooter’s name wouldn’t do anything to worsen this already horrific event. My heart broke as the headline at the top of the page changed—Fort Hood suspect is Army Maj. Nidal M. Hasan. I want to be sure I am very clear here—I certainly don’t think there would have been anything at all good or redeeming in finding out the suspect was a John Smith. But I did immediately worry that the simple name of this clearly disturbed man would lead to more fear and distrust and hate of a religion or a race or a region of people that absolutely do not warrant such feelings. Sadly, my worries materialized not an hour later when I heard a woman refer to the shooter by an ethnic slur. I can’t help but think that if the suspect were someone of her own background, she would have expressed anger and disgust only toward him as an individual, but because she viewed this man as part of the Other, she cast judgment upon an entire group, including a vast, vast majority of complete innocents.

In a time that is already so trying and painful and distressing to go through, I hope none of us will make the situation any more difficult for ourselves or others by adding to the amount of hate and anger that is already out there. I hope this will be a time of seeking to come together with all those around us and realizing that we each individually choose whether we will be a force for good or for something else, regardless of our heritage or beliefs. Let’s not blame the actions of one man on an entire people, now or ever. Please let’s all, in whatever manner we see fit, take this as a reminder to try to be more understanding, more appreciative, more inclusive, and more unified with all the people we have the opportunity to spend this life with. We have the potential for so much good achieved—and bad avoided—if we actively seek out and embrace all the best parts of each other, whether those parts are similar to or different from our own. If there is any positive to come of the tragedy today, let it be that we decide not to perpetuate any attitudes or behaviors that might possibly be a factor in another person committing such atrocities. Instead, let’s work toward more united communities where we sincerely know and esteem each other. There is so much to learn and so much to gain from expanding our circles of understanding. Please, decide to be a part of that.

closer than that

I have to hurry and spill every last drop from my fingers before I forget anything. I think cold air is so much better at penetrating my lungs than warm and I've been trying so hard for so long to breathe, really breathe, and finally tonight it happened. I ran and ran and ran until everything hurt and no it doesn't take too much running for everything to hurt on me but it doesn't matter, it was just the right amount, and as soon as it was enough I ran back home and flung my lanky lank onto the trampoline and turned Low up high in my ears. And the wind blew one direction and I smelled pumpkins and it blew the other and I smelled apples and then it turned out the wind had one more direction to blow so it did and the pile of leaves that Miranda and Bradley had been playing in covered my face and my arms and my lanky lank and just for kicks the wind blew a walnut off the tree and onto my shin but it didn't even hurt, it was a kiss on the shin. And maybe there are some big changes happening right now and maybe there is so so much I don't know but the lucky thing about life is that there are only a few things that actually even matter and those ones I do know and those ones I do have. And I realized that if a night and a life can be absolutely perfect all by myself on the trampoline under the walnut tree breathing really breathing then maybe everything is a lot better than I pretend it to be and maybe there really is so much wonder and magic and maybe I have just as much right to marvel at it as anyone else.

Phew. I remembered.

death rattle

I'm a total bore for never writing anything on here anymore. I'm still not going to write something, not really, but I feel like I should post some kind of crap, so here is how I responded when a million years ago a friend asked me whether I ate the fish I caught:

I didn't eat it. Or keep it. But I didn't really catch-and-release either. I tried to keep it. I killed it a lot. Tried to gut it etc. but couldn't really figure it out so then threw its carcass back in the water. I slammed its head on a rock! Over and over! And cried hahaha. The head slamming was to kill it before theoretically gutting it, it was supposed to be a quick painless death, but then it wasn't at all, I kept thinking it was dead and then it would start flopping again so I'd slam it again. And cry some more. I was trying to be brave and keep head slamming through the tears but I was just overcome by it all. Sad that I was killing this thing that had just given me so much joy. I tried to stop crying.

And here is the joke I kept making when I nabbed that slippery little sucker:

catfish? more like caughtfish!

Yeah this blog is doomed.

carry me boldly

I know you've already seen a million of these, but



Maybe someday I'll write something on here again. Maybe not.

hooked

I fish now.

I've been wanting to make my summer more American and I thought fishing might be a good step towards that. It is so fun and I love it. I got myself a year license and bought a pole and a little my-first-fishing-trip kit with all kinds of colorful thingamajigs in their own little plastic compartments. I don't know what most of them are for. I'm not really interested in getting good at fishing, or learning about fishing, just in going out and doing it. So far I have gone twice and caught a fish twice. The first one was some teensy little thing my friend told me was a "cuh-roppy." I have no idea what word he was actually saying. I should have asked him to spell it. But last night I caught a catfish that was 14 inches long. It was one of the best things I've done. Anyone want to talk really non-technically about how fun fishing is? That's all I'm looking for here.

got a number on me

I've been keeping a secret from everyone except my mom and a few chosen others for the past month or two. And it's one of those secrets where when it's revealed, you're like, geez what's the big deal? Why would anyone be secret and weird about that? Well guess what, it is a big deal. To me. And it's my blog (blog blog blog! what an awful word) so that's what matters here. Okay get ready for the big reveal--the prestige, if you will:

I run.

That's it. A normal thing that millions of people the world over have been doing ever since the late seventies or so. But to me it is new and exciting and worth dedicating an entire bundle of paragraphs to. It's been secret because I didn't know if it would stick; I didn't think it would stick. Obviously I've had to run at times for various reasons throughout my life and I've always hate hate hated it. I dreaded the infamous mile run in P.E. class like everyone else. Then recently I started feeling the healthiest I've ever felt, or at least ever remembered feeling, and thought I should make the most of it. Right then, right at the moment when I was forming that idea, my unknowingly timely sister-in-law--she of the Obama/Biden teaching fame--introduced me to this program called Couch Potato to 5K. It is about running. I trust the intelligence of my readers enough to take that running program title and not need any further explanation. I've been doing it for some weeks (months?) now, and guess what, it totally stuck. I love running.

I love that every day I surprise myself with going farther than I did the day before. I love that when I take a shower it's to wash sweat off and not just to make my hair look cute. I love that I've become well acquainted with local raccoons and teensy baby quails and snakes both dead and alive. I love that I've fooled my neighbors into this aspect of my identity--"oh yeah, Tracy. Red hair, runs a lot." I love that my legs are in a perpetual state of light soreness. I love that I can join in that conversation, that ongoing conversation that I've overheard countless times, about the best places to run, which muscles are hurting, what song has the best driving beat. I love that running shoes are on my packing list for my upcoming vacation. I love seeing people out running on my drive home from work and feeling that itch, wanting to be out there with them, and feeling excitement about knowing that I soon will be. This is all so new and different and shocking to me, and I love it.

I don't run fast. I don't run far. But I run. And now you know.

yes he can

Well Tiffany is clearly teaching Kyle the essentials.




That chocolatey-mouthed kid got an A+ on his civics lesson today. Okay, maybe A- for the little initial mix-up.