My Native Tongue

Anyone who has ever traveled to a foreign country where theirs is not the prevalent language, has probably noticed that they can hear their mother tongue spoken even across a crowded and noisy room. My ears are keener still, for I can hear my native tongue spoken from 4 blocks away! My native tongue is Bullshit. When, in the same foreign country, a native of that land tries to converse with you in your own language, you appreciate the effort, regardless of how clumsy their attempt may be. After a while, however, even the most polite traveler, may note that prolonged exposure to the butchering of their mother tongue tends to grate on one's ear. In this, I am no different. While I appreciate those of you who try to speak proper Bullshit to me, after successive clumsy attempts, it does offend my ear. For this reason, I shall try to confine my musings to English, but, should I occasionally lapse into my Native Tongue, please, bear with me and do not feel obliged to join me on a similar linguistic tangent. If this note offends you, you should probably leave now, before my thoughts on Religion and Politics cause you serious distress.

Tears and Rage

When I was a child I was taught of America. It was a Fabled Land where the milk and honey of Freedom ran in the streets, conceived by an idealistic people who, having felt themselves oppressed for so long, rose up and threw out their oppressors. It was born of a miracle of courage and determination that led landed gentry and peasant farmers, merchants and tradesmen, Protestants and Catholics to see beyond their personal differences, band together, and rise up as one, declaring to the world, "We will bear the yoke of tyranny no more!" And I believed. From the spacious skies to the amber waves of grain, I believed. I was fortunate enough to be able to travel this land from sea to shining sea, and I believed. Then I saw poverty and hunger. I saw ignorance and bigotry. I saw hatred. I asked how these could exist in such a glorious and just land, and, much like the boy who could not see the Emperor's New Clothes, I was shushed. So I did as I was told, and I was quiet. I did as I has been taught, and I believed. I still do. The words that will follow in this place do not evince any change in that belief. Rather, it is as a result of that belief that I feel compelled to write them now. If you have known something precious when it was bright and new, and then you see it tarnished and worn, even cast down in the mud and trampled upon, do you not weep to see its abuse and do everything in your power to lift it up and repair it as best you can? If you know that abuse to be deliberate, do you not feel rage? I see this Fabled Land, once a shining beacon in the night to the oppressed throughout the world, now tarnished and soiled. Her noble flag, woven of hope in the face of despair, and defended with the blood of her Heroes, that blessed Star Spangled Banner, I see now tattered and worn. I weep to see these abuses, and I would repair them. I see the sacred parchments of "We the People" and the precious ideals they espouse cast down in the mud and wantonly trampled. I see the very precepts upon which this nation was founded twisted and betrayed for personal gain, and I rage! This does not mean that my belief has been lessened. My Faith in this nation and that for which it once stood is stronger than ever. It is those things for which it has been made to stand that give me pause. It is the flagrant usurpation of individual freedoms, once held so dear, that move me to tears. It is the brazen betrayal of the public trust for political and financial gain which leads me to rage! I am not moved to such strong emotions by any weakening of my belief, but rather by its strength. I still believe. But I also still see, and, unlike that child who questioned so long ago, I will no longer be shushed. The Emperor has NO new clothes! In fact, he's stealing yours! These are my tears. This is my rage. Where, in the name of all that is right, and just, and decent, are yours?

Thursday, September 27, 2007

For Evil to Triumph

We've all heard the Edmond Burke quote, “For Evil to triumph, all that is required is for Good men to do nothing.” These words never rang truer than now, and never did they more aptly resonate than in the small town of Jena, LA. I know, many of you will wonder, “Where in the world is Jena, LA,” and next, “Why should I care?” That's because in their unbridled zeal to update us all on the paternity of Anna Nicole Smith's baby and to keep us apprised of the latest antics of Paris Hilton and company (You know, “Real News”) the national media, both liberal and conservative, somehow managed to let this little tidbit slip through the cracks. In order to address this oversight by media possessed of a Candyland Mentality, let me bring you up to date.


Many years ago the high school students of Jena, LA, pop. 4000 and 85% white, planted a tree in the courtyard of their school, which they dubbed “The Tree of Knowledge.” The name is ironic, as future actions would show this to be anything but the Garden of Eden. Over the years as the tree grew, it became the practice for white students to congregate in the cool shade beneath. Only white students. Last September 17 year old Justin Purvis, a black student requested permission from the school's principle to sit under the tree. It was granted. The next morning students arrived at the school to find THREE NOOSES hanging from the tree! I gets worse!


The principle contacted the local Superintendent of Schools to report the incident. He wanted to expel the culprits, but the Superintendent saw, “no racial overtones,” and called the incident, “only a harmless prank!” The students responsible received a three day suspension! The next day, the nooses now removed, a group of black students approached the tree. They believed that they were living in the 21st century. They thought that they, too, had rights. They were soon confronted by the police and the local District Attorney, Reed Walters. The District Attorney was heard by nearby teachers and students to tell the black students the he could, “end their lives with the stroke of a pen.” He wasn't kidding.


In the months that followed, racial tensions rose. In November the school was set on fire! In December of 2006 a black student, Robert Bailey, was severely beaten at a local party by white students. The police filed simple battery charges and the suspect was released! A few nights later Robert and two other black students were confronted at a local convenience store by a former white graduate of the school. He pulled a sawed off shotgun on them, which they wrestled away from him before fleeing the scene. Robert's mother says this was done so they wouldn't get shot in the back while leaving! The police filed no charges against the ADULT WITH THE GUN, but filed assault charges against the three teens which were later dropped!


The following Monday a fight broke out at the high school under the tree, as white students taunted Bailey about his beating. One white student was taken to the hospital, though he was later released, smiling in the company of his friends. Robert Bailey and five other black students were arrested. The charge levied by District Attorney Walters... ATTEMPTED 2nd DEGREE MURDER!


In July the first student, 17 year old Mychal Bell, a promising young football player on track for a college scholarship, was convicted by an all white jury on lowered charges of aggravated battery as well as conspiracy charges. In Louisiana , aggravated battery requires a weapon be involved; the qualifying weapon cited by the prosecution in this case was the boy's TENNIS SHOES! His court-appointed defense attorney called NO witnesses on his behalf!


I guess District Attorney Walters was definitely NOT kidding! “A stroke of his pen!” indeed! He is doing his level best to destry six promising lives because these young students had too much intelligence, too much pride, and too much dignity to quietly conform to a system that required them to say, “Ya suh, Boss! You's right, Boss! Dat der is sho a white tree, Boss!” and shuffle on. Instead they stood up to injustice. In the face of overwhelming numbers, in the face of long-antiquated bigotry and hatred, they REFUSED to “shuffle on” for ANYONE! They proudly held their heads high, as we would want any American youth to do in the face of adversity. AND A BIGOT WITH A PEN IS DESTROYING THEM FOR IT! ...while Good men and women do NOTHING!


Since the original trial, and largely due to the efforts of African American activists including the Rev.s Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, as well as the NAACP, the ACLU, the Congressional Black Caucus, and the Southern Poverty Law Center, a Federal Appeals Court to set aside Mychal Bell's conviction and grant him a new trial. Just days ago a Louisiana Appeals set aside the conspiracy charge, as Bell was only 16 at the time of the incident, and could not have been tried as an adult on that charge. Of course that only reduced his possible sentence from 22 years to 15½ YEARS, and D.A. Walters can STILL retry the conspiracy charge in juvenile court! Of the remaining five students, two have had their charges reduced to those similar to Bell's, two others are expected to be treated in a like manner at arraignment, while the last, young Mr. Purvis, he who first asked permission to sit under the Tree of Knowledge, is still facing the attempted 2nd degree murder charge with a possible 100 YEARS!


The most heartening news to come out of Jena, LA of late is that the The Tree of Knowledge has been cut down! It's too bad that wasn't done before the Serpentine District Attorney had a chance to spew his venom on innocent students.

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