Tuesday, June 16, 2020

Happy Trails


I was on call this past weekend and my outdoor allergies have still been pretty bad when it's sunny and warm-ish, but Kelvin took the kiddos on some more outdoor adventures in the mornings to break up at-home time.

They rode bikes from McKinleyville to the Mad River Bridge and back (about 10 miles round-trip). Some other walkers/passersby were really impressed at Iver's ability to ride up hills!











They stopped for a donut treat at Safeway (where Niall was scared that the giant totem pole was going to topple over on them).  We asked Iver this weekend if he has noticed any life changes amidst the COVID pandemic or if he feels like he's suffering at all. He answered, "Not really. Life is good!  I go to (pre)school, where I love my teachers, and I do lots of playing at home and riding bikes. And sometimes I get two, instead of one, donut on a weekend!")


On Sunday, they again visited Trinidad beach. 



 Can you see Iver atop the rock?










These little happy munchkins are enjoying the nearby outdoor beauty and lots of happy trail time. 

Tuesday, June 9, 2020

Simple Creations

Our weekends are super mellow these days. Even though there is a lot of the same, the kids find pleasure in simple creations (and we adults are trying to do the same). 

There's always trusty Trinidad beach to visit. 








Iver helped me rescue some bananas to make muffins and bread.



We took out some Lincoln logs, which have been in a closet for a year. (Iver is playing dress-up).


Homemade (half-naked) "pizza making"

Here is some three-item and multi-column math by Iver (his first request upon awakening is "tell me a math problem"!). He can even do two-digit addition with carry-over in his head now, which is impressive for a five-year-old (we don't yet know if public schools will be open for him to start regular Kindergarten in the fall but feel that academically he should be ok).


Fort-building was a major hit this weekend. The fort has moved from the living room to the kids' bedroom, but has provided many hours of entertainment!


Sunday, June 7, 2020

Three women, six feet


I don't know about the rest of you, but despite being an introvert, I've definitely been craving in-person social connection (other than from my family/kids and co-workers) in the last few months with a little boredom setting in of the "same old, same old" every day and weekend.  Talking through masks or via phone or Facetime is better than not at all, but definitely leaves much to be desired. So many expressions are missed when you only see someone's eyes.

My friend Kellie (a mom of two similarly-aged kids) recently suggested some outdoor physically-distant chats and I was game, as was our friend Jenna!  During our toddlers' early-afternoon naptime, we've gotten together twice in the past weekends to hang out outdoors, spaced >6 feet apart for a couple of hours.

The first time was a beautiful afternoon in Kellie's back yard.

Yesterday, we congregated on my back deck because the forecast held rain (but we got quite a bit of sun in between the raindrops!).

While it seems that there's not much "happening" in our lives (paradoxically, time has seemed to stand still, but now here we are in June!) to report, we definitely commiserated on our challenges with young kiddos and the quarantine, anxiety about the world and the future of our kids' public education, as well as exploring our dreams of "what we can look forward to" when "this is better/over."

Thank you, ladies, for your friendship and for bringing some sunshine and novelty to my weekends!  

Tuesday, June 2, 2020

Trio on two wheels (and more)


Kelvin is super dad when I'm on call one weekend per month as I was this past weekend.


This trio is thick as thieves!

When I was rounding or at births, they spent some time with sprinkler time outside.




Glee!

They hiked at the beach 




Our friends Jenna and Sean lent us a toddler bike seat, which K was able to attach to my bike (his crossbar wouldn't allow it), and off they went!







Love these boys!

I don't get enough photos with the boys but here is me as part of a snuggle/reading trio.




Monday, June 1, 2020

A consequential knee






Last week, we learned of yet one more brutal killing of an unarmed black American, George Floyd, at the hands (well, knee, with one smug hand in his pocket) of Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin while three other officers stood by without intervening. The occurrence was just one more heart-wrenching example of police brutality or racist treatment (basically, twenty-first century and state-sanctioned lynching) of a black victim (like Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Sandra Bland, Philando Castile, Freddie Gray, Stephon Clark, Breonna Taylor, and so many more...) by a white or other person in power (and this time in obviously cold blood without the claimed excuse of "being afraid and acting in self-defense"--Floyd was handcuffed face-down on the ground while Chauvin kneeled smugly).  No matter what the (alleged/perceived) offense, not one of these people deserved to die.  I'm even more saddened that this happened in not one of the southern states with a legacy of overt racism and public execution (where it seems less shocking, sadly-- remember Emmett Till and, more recently Ahmaud Arbery?) but northern and relatively progressive Minnesota, where I have family and medical school roots and where I've found most people to be overwhelmingly decent (despite largely lily/Nordic white).



It is and continues to be heartbreaking and horrifying.

This past weekend, protests erupted nationwide after the video was released of the 8-minutes-and-forty-six-seconds-long assault and asphyxiation. The protesters, who overwhelmingly believe in science and who also are disproportionally affected by the Coronavirus, are risking their lives amidst a viral pandemic because of the depth of collective desperation, pain, and hopelessness and because they see no other option. None of them has seen any positive change in police practices or justice despite such egregious criminal acts which have ravaged their communities again and again, ...and again. When "driving while black" or "jogging while black" and the scourge of an epidemic that is racism in the United States could just as easily get you killed on any given day, pandemic protesting (even with masks) sadly doesn't seem so life-threatening. Protest is the language of the unheard.

Thankfully, the murderous officer was promptly fired and has been charged with third-degree murder.  I will not hold my breath, but hope that there is a criminal conviction, because so many of these law enforcement perpetrators  (99%) have been shockingly acquitted for their violent and grievous offenses (and close to 50% are re-hired) and justice is badly lacking, while thousands of black and brown people, including those still adolescent children, are incarcerated for far lesser, nonviolent acts (and this video went viral because the murder was in public and in broad daylight. Think of all the other people that have been quietly assaulted off camera, perhaps not fatally, and before the age of ubiquitous cell phones and social media). I was thankful to see many police officers around the country (because there are good ones among the bad apples even though one rotten one spoils the barrel) speaking out and kneeling in solidarity. But much more radical and urgent change is needed (including widespread bodycams, banning choke-holds, charging bystanding officers and holding them accountable for their complicity, implicit bias and de-esclatation training, independent complaint reviews and termination of offending officers, improved selection of officers with the appropriate temperament for the job, and elimination of the essential immunity from convictions that the system holds for law enforcement officers. Check out 8CAN'TWAIT) so that the police actually STOP.KILLING.BLACK.PEOPLE. Something has to give.


While my heart could only handle only so much viewing of the news and reports, I saw so many pictures and photos were posted on social media comparing the officer's life-ending "kneeling" stance with the gesture of ex-San Francisco 49er Colin Kaepernick who "took a knee" to protest targeted killing of black Americans several years ago (and who was essentially black-balled from the NFL as a result and ridiculed by the White and political Right for being "unpatriotic").  The similarity but contrast is chillingly striking.






I have seen a lot of articles and people commenting about the "right way" to protest, from even well-meaning (mostly white) people and that "violence only harms the cause."



Well-meaning people of all colors with privilege of wealth, education, gender, or race, need to stop telling people of color how to show their outrage and anger and start acting like actual allies (decades of peaceful protest by communities of color has obviously not gotten the job done).  Stop saying "All lives matter" (yes, all lives matter, but all people aren't getting equally screwed by white supremacist educational, social, law enforcement, and health systems). Acknowledge your own privilege and get outraged at the senseless loss of life (murderous "policing" by those supposedly keeping us all "safe"), not at the loss of property or your peaceful bubble of denial and comfort.  Watch and listen to the video of a fully grown, 6-foot, 6-inch tall man (also a Christian, and father) call out for his (deceased) mama as he gasped for air, and try not to cry (when my children call out while playing, "I can't breathe," as George Floyd did [and to which another officer responded, "I don't care"], I literally freeze and experience an emotion of terror that is hard to name, and hard to shake off). The burden of action is not and should not be on the people with the weight of racism on their backs and literal knees on their necks-- it's on the rest of us who have privilege and power.









Please don't gripe about the inconveniences of breathing while mask-wearing and don't just "not be racist" in defensive, quiet and personal ways (otherwise, as Desmond Tutu said, you will have chosen the side of the oppressor and as Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends"). Be actively ANTI-racist and work to change inherently biased institutions. If you stay a bystander, as the Minneapolis police offers did, you quietly benefit from systems of oppression and are part of the problem. Don't be complicit. Black people literally can't breathe.








For ideas of what to do if you're lucky to not be living this nightmare firsthand (and if you will never have to deal with sending your brown or black child out into this world to become an adult faced with such threats), check out this extensive list that my friend (and accomplished black woman) Nicole sent me. There are many actions you, especially if you're feeling helpless, can take to start becoming a true ally.  You may not get everything right. You may be uncomfortable. But you will probably never be "having-a-knee-crushing-your-trachea-to-the-point-of-suffocation" uncomfortable.



Vote (especially to get the Racist-in-Chief out of office so that his views and those of his supporters don't have a national platform). Elect women and people of color to local, state, and national offices that have concentrated abusive power in the hands (and knees) of mostly older, white men.




Donate (money) to worthy causes (as the list includes) and support black-owned businesses.

Encourage diversity and include students, artists, writers, and other professionals of color in your workplace, on your teams, and in your life.

Read the many excellent books and testimonies of black Americans, their history, and their struggles. I personally LOVE Colson Whitehead's and Ta-Nehisi Coates' works, as well as Bryan Stevenson's Just Mercy. The New Jim Crow (eye-opening) and White Fragility (which is on my list) are two others. The documentary "13th" on Netflix is also incredibly powerful.





Talk to your white friends and relatives specifically about white supremacy (systems and individual attitudes) and its harms, and call it out when you see it, even when it's uncomfortable.

Pray (which is one acceptable thing to do on your knees).

Listen--especially to the viewpoints of those of color, because they have important things to say, and their voices are so often silenced and suppressed.

Teach your kids that being "color-blind" is NOT enough. They should and will see color and its inequities unfold in their lives.  They should learn about them (here are some book recommendations), and be prepared to stand up for such injustices (my not-yet-in-kindergarten five-year-old son already knows all about discriminate police shootings of black and brown people, slavery, segregation, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr.'s teachings and assassination ["at the age of 39 in Tennessee," he reminds me], as well as the extermination of Jews via the gas chamber in concentration camps). The world is not all unicorns and rainbows and I won't present it that way even though my children are privileged in more ways than one (even though they're mixed races and brown in color). Black and brown children don't have the luxury of the choice of a carefree childhood or growing up in a world without the imminent and acute threat of violence, and my children will grow up knowing this reality.



As Nelson Mandela said, no one is born hating others-- hate of a group of people is a learned social behavior modeled by the actions and molded by the words of parents, family, educators, leaders, and members of their community including faith leaders. Choose your community wisely. Ensure that your kids meet and interact with kids and people of all shades and backgrounds rather than keeping them sheltered in your safe place and safe space (when physical distancing recommendations are relaxed, of course) so that they don't grow up with prejudice and a fear of people who are "other."

Love your (black, brown, and even rainbow-colored) neighbors, and check in with them frequently.






The last four years have been, by far, the most challenging of my life, with so much anxiety about our country, the world, and the future for my children, stemming in large part from the white-lash that was the 2016 election and its aftermath. All of the pain is more acutely raw now in 2020, with a pandemic and economic depression on top of everything and all-encompassing devastation in the communities of citizens of color, who are incredibly vulnerable in the best of times. I maintain a small amount of hope that with our hearts split open and eyes opened further, looking forward to November of this year, we can (despite disagreements and polarization which have only been widening in recent years) make a statement about what core values we hold dear as a nation. Systemic oppression and violence of such magnitude is not new-- it has been present for more than four hundred years in the history of our country. It will not go away overnight, but we can all (left, right, brown, or white) take small steps to make things better.  It's needed (knee-ded). It's urgent. It's way past time.