A Letter to My Nephew — Writing My World

Dear David,

I took this picture a few weeks ago up in the mountains. It was at dusk when the forest around our house was shrouded in darkness, yet Savage Gulf just beyond our overlook was still bathed in light. I stood there mesmerized, caught between day and night. Looking at it now I wonder if it isn’t a metaphor for this point in our history. America seems poised at a crossroad. One that could lead us into further darkness or towards the light.

You have certainly been in my thoughts and prayers this past week…first with the awful death of George Floyd and now with the riots springing up everywhere. Even Nashville, where I foolishly thought we were impervious to the violence. While I do not know what it is like to be a police officer, I do know you. A young man, whose dream was to become a police officer ever since you were a small boy. I hate that the actions of some have tainted that dream. Surely, it has made you weary or worse afraid. Perhaps more than I can possibly know or imagine.

I cannot condone the actions of the officers implicated in Mr. Floyd’s arrest and death. Nor could I watch the video so horrifying was Chauvin’s face as he casually placed a hand in his pocket while ending a man’s life. It was as if he was merely squashing a pesky bug and not killing a man who was a father, a brother, and a dear friend. It is easy to understand the rage African Americans feel, because I felt it too as I looked at that cold, implacable face. Yet, I keep thinking of you and all the others who simply want to serve and protect. You out there dealing with the rage and the hate that should be directed elsewhere.

As I look for places to direct my own anger, perhaps it is best to first take a good look in the mirror. Did I, too, uphold my own “thin blue line”? In conversations did I stand in polite silence when I heard a racial joke or slur? As a teacher, did I expect less from my students of color unwittingly letting empathy lower my expectations for them? Did I write off a parent as uncaring when they didn’t show up for conferences or return my phone calls? Did I give up too easily on those who were undoubtedly facing struggles beyond my comprehension? These are questions I still struggle with today.

Yet as I looked into the young, diverse faces that marched peacefully in Nashville last night, I am hopeful that they are leading us to a better future. I believe we begin by owning up to our slave owning past, because it still plays out in our unequal education systems, red-lined housing districts, voter impediments, unequal and inadequate healthcare, prisons, and yes sadly police practices, too. Perhaps the greatest tool Americans have in our toolshed is our right to vote. We can vote for leaders who are willing to address the systemic biases embedded in our laws and mores. This is NOT just a police problem, a Trump problem, or a media problem. This is an American problem which we all must help to resolve.

As I look back at my photo, I realize we each have a choice. We can stay in the shadowy forests of fear and conspiracy theories continuing to pit one against the other. Or we can walk towards the light I saw shining in those beautiful young faces marching in our city. We can stop yelling over one other and listen to each other’s stories with open hearts. We can choose and follow leaders who want to take us beyond rhetoric into much needed and sensible reforms that benefit us all.

If we choose this path, it will surely mean riding through difficult days with open hearts and minds. Open to the lessons and the things that we can change within ourselves as well as our country. I’ve been reading a bit of Pema Chodren lately and this struck home….

“With practice, however, we learn to stay with a broken heart, with a nameless fear, with the desire for revenge. Sticking with uncertainty is how we learn to relax in the midst of chaos, how we learn to be cool when the ground beneath us suddenly disappears. We can bring ourselves back to the spiritual path countless times every day simply exercising our willingness to rest in the uncertainty of the present moment-over and over again.”

May you, too, find rest in this uncertain time and know that you are deeply loved not only for what you do but for who you are.

Love, Aunt Cathy