The Pursuit of Happiness (and Justice for All)

The white caps turn to gentle waves, rolling into the shoreline at my feet. The puffy cotton clouds float over the lake. Purple violets carpet the grass with a fringe of lighter purple phlox. All week, I’ve made a night fire in the cabin stove, but today I opened the windows to let out winter. A friend reminded me that I needed to be here to let the cabin breathe in spring.

I, too, need to release winter and breathe in spring.

I write this on Memorial Day. A sacred day of remembrance of those who sacrificed for our freedoms. Those gone before us out of patriotism or the draft, men and women showing up to protect our Constitution and hope for a better day. Our country has not been nor is it now perfect, but worth the effort to strive for the pursuit of happiness.

Sitting at the lakeshore, refrigerator full of summer specialties, feeling the breeze keeping the mosquitos away and waiting for my high school friend and her husband to show up – now that is happiness. Yet, my heart is heavy. Just a week ago, I bid my detained students from Cuba, Chad, Poland, Somalia, Venezuela, Cameron, Liberia, Ecuador, Mexico, Eritrea and Bosnia, farewell, just in case. Just in case they would be sent away before I get back from my hiatus.

Every week, I sent them off with hands folded in the sign of prayer, bowing my head with a deeply sincere, heartfelt, blessing of love. Who am I to bless? Who am I not to bless? We aren’t allowed to hug, so I’d put my pointer fingers to my thumbs and raise my arms up as they enter  lockdown. After being patted down, they’d turn back and wave with a brave smile. I nod again, gritting my teeth to hold in my disbelief, anger and sadness at what my country has become. I simultaneously want to see them again and prefer to have them back with their families. Is this goodbye forever?

Today, flags fly, the bugles play taps, the surviving comrades march down streets in formation, raising their salutes once again. What would the dead and wounded of the ages think of Trump’s quote: “Americans who died in war are ‘Losers’ and ’Suckers.’” Today, he took another opportunity to name-call his critics. And next, he’s boasting of the upcoming fanfare for the 4^th of July and our 250^th anniversary celebrations. Yet, he does not uphold The Constitution, allow his critics the freedom of speech, the refugee the pursuit of happiness and the immigrant worker held in detention, is far from justice for all.

My head spins from the gold coins made in his image, to his portrait going on “commemorative” passports to the destruction of the East wing for a ballroom (and now bunker), to the cementing over of the Rose Garden, the painting of the Lincoln Memorial reflecting pool blue, while holding up a proposed plan for a Triumphal Arch, not unlike the one in Paris…  and these are just the optics.

The other side of his gold coin enumerates the illegal war in Iran, the “kidnapping” of Venezuela’s president, the bombing of fishing boats along South America’s coasts all while blockading Cuba, literally starving out its people. Cutting off USAID to the world was a “way-long-time” ago. His administration is repealing EPA standards, opening up federal lands to oil companies, and requiring use of coal while cutting funds for green energy initiatives.

Please stay with me a few more paragraphs.

I do not write this to aggravate, to alienate, nor to exacerbate, but to document for myself and my descendants. History is being erased, rewritten and destroyed. At the end of each class, Mary and I give extra sheets of paper to the detainees and invite them to write down what they are experiencing. This is history. Every person’s voice counts. Remember what is happening and what led to the next incident. We aren’t Ann Frank, but each story is a testament for all.

The last time I saw Yasmani, he had written six pages, but wanted to finish before he gave them to me to translate. We’d worked together for months. He’d probably still be here but…

The next Friday, Mary held class alone, then texted me, “The guys said they took Yasmani and Daoud! We’ll never know what happened.”

We now tell their story. We call out their names. We can take their stories to the doubters and disbelievers, hoping for open minds. For the sake of the 250 years of the great experiment, we must lift up the stories with renewed vigor and remember the best part of ourselves.

The pursuit of happiness is a thing – along with liberty and justice for all. 

Yasmani wants liberty. He yearns for justice. As to happiness, he’d like to see his newly born niece and have some chocolates. My last goodbye to Yasmani included a promise to get him some Fancy Pants Chocolates from Nancy. Here are some examples of Nancy’s creations: