Intolerant of Intolerance

Most everyone has heard of and knows about Matthew Shepard, but for those of you who don’t, Matthew, or “Matt” for short, was a 21 year old student at the University of Wyoming who was beaten, tortured, and tied to a barbed-wire fence and left to die near Laramie, Wyoming on the night of October 6, 1998.  Matt was found by a cyclist who thought Matt was a scarecrow.  He died six days later in a Hospital in Fort Collins, Colorado, on October 12, from severe head injuries.  Shepard was gay, so this was considered a hate crime.

One of the two men convicted of the murder said it wasn’t a hate crime, but that they “just wanted to rob him and beat him up.”  Coincidentally, after leaving Shepard to die, these two men went back into town and beat up two Hispanic men.  I suppose that wasn’t a hate crime either.

But I ask you, how is this okay?

Kim and I lived in Southern California during the Rodney King riots.  One of the graduates in my counseling caseload, a young lady, came home from her shift at a fast food restaurant and told her parents that she was going to sit on the front porch and eat her dinner before she went to bed.  Her parents found her beaten body on the front porch steps the following morning.  She had died and no one knows why.  No one knows who did it.  Her parents are left with many questions and precious few answers.

To be very clear, I’m not taking any sides other than to say that we have a growing problem in our society where people are attacked and hurt . . . sometimes killed . . . because he or she is somehow different from us, or because he or she has different beliefs than we do, or because he or she looks different than we do.

I’m worried that we’ve “accepted” that people aren’t worthy of respect because of these differences.  And how is that even possible?  How is it that individuals or groups of individuals are not worthy of respect?

I'm fully aware that there are groups who espouse hate simply because of differences in race, in religion, in politics, in just about anything that isn't equal to or the same as their own race or religion or political belief.  I don't understand them and I don't know that anyone does.  I kind of shake my head in wonder at them, perhaps shake my head in equal parts of disbelief and disgust.

But, I think I’ve become Intolerant of Intolerance.  I sincerely hope I’m not the only one.

There is no excuse for unkindness.  There is no excuse for disrespect.  None.

I think there are many teachable moments where we can help kids . . . and each other . . . to understand that sometimes our words and our actions hurt others.  I think it is important to teach each other that it is simply unacceptable to be disrespectful of another or to withhold acceptance of an individual or a group simply because he or she or they is somehow different from us.  If we ignore these teachable moments, if we accept the ugliness of others and if we ignore acts of unkindness and disrespect, we become just as unkind and just as disrespectful because we ignore it. 

Ignoring and doing nothing, saying nothing is passive acceptance.  Is that what we want?  Is that how we want to be measured?  Is that how we want to be seen and be judged?  I’m hoping that you and I, each of us, grow to be Intolerant of Intolerance.  Otherwise, we really have no future.  None.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

To Be Chosen

We just had the National Football League Draft a week or so ago and I have to admit I watched it, wondering who my favorite team would pick.  I also have to admit that it wasn’t all that thrilling to watch and because of that, I did a lot of writing or worked around the house only coming back to the TV when my team was on the clock.

I tried to put myself in the shoes of those players.  I’m sure it was nerve-wracking for them.  I’m sure it was wearisome for them.  And I’m sure that even though some professed “not caring” as to who might draft them, they probably cared a great deal.  And not only about who might draft them, but when they might be drafted.

When I worked as an assistant basketball coach at the collegiate level, my job was to evaluate talent based upon our upcoming needs.  If I needed one point guard, I never just recruited one point guard.  I actually recruited five, hoping that we’d be able to sign Number One or Number Two.  The problem for me, and what actually drove me out of collegiate coaching, was that after signing Number One or Number Two, I’d have to inform Numbers Three, Four and Five that we were no longer interested in them.  Very tough for me to do: dash a kid’s dream, see the look on their face, hear the hurt in their voice.  It tore me up and as I said, that’s what drove me out of collegiate coaching.

Remember back in the good old days of having kids pick teams in PE class?  Remember the agony of having to stand there wishing, hoping someone would pick you?  I think of two guys I went through elementary with, Robert and Jim, who were always picked last.  It didn’t matter what game it was, Robert and Jim were always picked last.  Talk about dehumanizing and humiliating!

And now we’re in Prom Season.

I feel so very badly for those kids who want so very much to go to Prom, but no one asks them to go.  They don’t want to go by themselves, not when all their friends are going “with someone.”  Many of them hope, as do their parents, that someone would pick them.  They hope, perhaps long for, just one night to put on a pretty dress and dance.  To be one of the chosen.  To be included.  To be one of them.

I get the fact that not everyone will be chosen.  Really, I get that.  Probably many reasons for not getting chosen.  It doesn’t lessen the pain of not getting chosen, to be on the outside looking in.  It doesn’t lessen the hurt, the feeling of “I’m not worthy” and “I’m not good enough and perhaps even, “No one likes me” and “I’m not pretty.”

I also get the fact that there are differences in the NFL Draft and signing a letter of intent to play at a college and being asked to go to Prom.  But there are some similarities too.

A dream ends.  There is sadness and hurt.  There is exclusion rather than inclusion.  There is the feeling of “less than” and “not as good as” and probably a whole lot of other feelings that kids and adults have.

I guess we can chalk it up to, “That’s life!”  I guess we can shrug our shoulders and say, “Sorry, but that’s what happens sometimes.”  We might even say, “Life isn’t always fair!” or say, “That’s the reality of it.”

But it sounds far too cold to me.  I don’t like it when kids get hurt.  Not even a little bit.  All kids need to be chosen.  Sometime, anytime, they need to be chosen.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Under Construction

It’s always nice to have something brand new to move to.

Everything is clean and shiny.  There is the “new” smell.  Even though the old might be comfortable, I think anything new brings about a smile.

Yes, there is the “getting used to it” time when we aren’t sure of where things are, or how things work, or where things go.  But . . . it is still new.

And, there can be snags.  There can be delays.  There can be some miscommunication.  There can be some misunderstanding. 

Weather causes delays.  Rain, snow, cold- each impacts the “time frame for delivery” (even this old guy is learning the language of construction).  Recently, we were told that the move to our new school building would be delayed a couple of weeks.  Who knows?  If there is additional weather-related or construction problems, it could be another couple of weeks.  But . . . it is still new.

And then once we’re in the new building, we’ll have to deal with the boxes and “stuff” of the move.  Kind of frustrating.  A bit aggravating.  A bit tedious.  But . . . it is still new.

I think the part of construction I don’t like is the actual construction itself.  I don’t like the “ugly” stage.  You know, the mud, the dust, the “stuff” around and out of place.  I’d rather see the new building more towards the completed stage. 

I felt that way about our house as it was being built.  Of course, Kim and I would drive past it, maybe sneak into it to see the tile floor, the ceramic back splash.  But even then, I honestly, I’d rather wait until the construction was almost completed before I wandered about.

But is a building really ever “finished” or “completed”? 

I don’t think so.  There will always be a paint job to do.  Waxing to do.  Things to add, maybe remove.  There will be things to remember and moments when we sit back and say, “Should have thought of that.  We need that.”

Got me thinking . . .

Constructing a building is kinda, sorta like constructing ourselves . . . us . . . you and me.

Just as a building is seldom, if ever, “done” or “finished”, I think we are seldom, probably never, finished.  We are always Under Construction.

It’s in our nature to want to do better, to be better, to want to improve.  And just as with a new building or a home, there is the ugly stage, the “Now what?” stage, and inevitably, the “Should have thought of that.  We . . . I need that.”  A new building or a new home is seldom perfect, and, we aren’t either.

There is the “ugly” stage we tend to go through as we “become” different than that which we were.  At times, we feel and act awkward.  And as we become closer to that person we wish to become, we discover, just as we did with the building, there will be things to remember and moments when we sit back and say, “Should have thought of that.  I need that.”

Just as with the building, we are never really ever “done” because there is always something else to do, to change.  Becoming is a verb.  It’s action.  If we are trying to improve, trying to become, we keep moving and don’t remain in place.  And we will never be perfect.  Never.  I think if we recognize this in ourselves . . . in others . . . we will be a bit happier in the long run.  You and I are always and will forever be Under Construction.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

For My Readers:

Thank you for your wonderful comments and messages to me about the Lives Trilogy!  It’s very humbling.  Book One of the Lives Trilogy, Stolen Lives, has 60 Reviews with a 4.7 average out of 5 possible.  Book Two of the Lives Trilogy, Shattered Lives, has 14 Reviews with a 4.8 average.  Both are available in Kindle and in paperback on Amazon.  I have copies of both for signing and selling, along with the Prequel, Taking Lives, which has 79 Reviews and a 4.2 average.

Taking Lives can be found at: http://www.amazon.com/Taking-Lives-Joseph-Lewis-ebook/dp/B00MG2JAWE/ref=pd_sim_kstore_2?ie=UTF8&refRID=00W58M55GZ0W2SD56EZZ

Stolen Lives can be found at: http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Lives-The-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00PKKN6W4/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=19H9C9C16DY57W3P29C3

Shattered Lives can be found at: http://www.amazon.com/Shattered-Lives-The-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00UZRP828/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=1XMD9DG092A792T0WC1N

Thanks,

jl