Woolly Mutts

"No, I am not a Muslim, but would it matter if I was?"

Above is the answer I have given an alarming number of times since I have told people that I am taking a class about the nation of Islam.  "Are you a Muslim?", is the most typical response, followed closely by "why?".  Really?  Why not?

I am, indeed, taking a six week class on Islam.  It is held here in Rockford at our Muslim Community Center and Mosque....pictured below.

The new section is still under construction and we hope to be able to tour it at the end of the class session.  The class is offered through our local community college's Center for Learning in Retirement.  Though I am not retired, I am over 50, so I qualify and am pleased for the opportunity.

Last Wednesday I joined ten or eleven other "older" folks in the center's school library to begin our studies into the mystical world of Islam.  Not that Islam is any more mystical than any other religion, but in the times we live it holds a strange status as being on the other side of the fence, so to speak. I'm attending with my friend Nancy (Hi Nancy!) who brought the class to my attention in the first place.  Being our first time we entered tentatively and were immediately greeted by smiling men who pointed us toward our room.

Our teacher is the Imam Shpendim Nadzaku.  I can't even begin to pronounce it, though he is kind about our western attempts at the Arabic.  Even so, I wouldn't even try.  He is a tall, thin man with a kind disposition.  He is pictured below in front of the mosque.

The Imam was born in Albania, immigrated to New Jersey, and then did his Arabic studies in Saudi Arabia.  His English is impeccable, with the exception of a few Jersey "yous" thrown in from time to time.  His manner is patient and his desire transparent.  From the beginning he offered that no question should go unasked or unanswered.  He promised to take no personal offense and did not when one of the first questions was about his beard.  No, all Muslim married men do not have beards.  It is simply a choice to emulate Mohammad.  Makes sense to me.

It was, for me, an experience that I have never had before, one of being the minority in a environment.  My woman's uncovered red head and large earrings were in stark contrast to the white covered heads of the young women that passed the door.  I found all of them, man, woman, boy and girl to be incredibly beautiful.  As the class bells rang and children hurried past,  our class  agreed that school children are all the same regardless of religion or culture.  That, I think, was a good first step.

I am also a minority in the class itself as being the only one that was not classified as "christian".  As stated before, I believe in a creator/god, but in lifestyle I lean toward Buddhism.  Rose, seated to my left was  Catholic and several others were members of the same Methodist church.  You have to give those Methodists credit; they do their best to keep their minds open.  I can't say exactly why all the others were in attendance.  I, myself, am there to learn.  Knowledge is the best weapon against fear.

After one class, it sounds an awful lot like old testament christianity.  Names like Adam, Eve, and Noah came up, as did Jesus.  Islam is monotheistic...one god and only one.  No holy trinity, no salvation through blood.  Just you and god.  I especially enjoyed when the Imam talked of God's beautiful names.   Fascinating stuff. 

Am I a Muslim?  No, nor do I intend to be.  My goal is to be able to see them with the same eyes I see christians and jews and hindus, etc; with respect and understanding.  Just another way to look at god however he/she/it is perceived by others.  It is a privelege to live in a country where that opportunity is available to me. 

If you have thoughts you would like to share, they are welcome here.

Who will make things right. Or, maybe left.

I work in hippie-ville, and I say that in the most positive way possible.  For those unaware, I work in a not-for-profit fair trade store, meaning that everything we sell comes from about 50 different developing countries and the artisans are paid a fair, living wage to provide us with product to sell.  We also ask them to take care of their workers, children and the planet.  You can read more about fair trade on our website if you so choose. We have a wind turbine on the roof, frequently house concerts and green group meetings. Every flavor of organized religion (and probably a few that aren't organized), color, race and lifestyle choice walk through our doors at one point or another. In addition to our store, the building also houses the office of the esteemed Stanley Campbell and RUM (Rockford Urban Ministries). 

This pic makes Stan look a little intense, which he certainly can be, but in truth he is sweetheart and a champion hugger.  He is also a fierce activist.  He calls me Dearest (I used to think it was because he couldn't remember my name, but I'm pretty sure he's got it now), always says thank you and can talk anybody into doing anything.(the good kind of anything.)  The only person I know who wants peace more than I do is Stan, and that's saying something.  

Stan writes a weekly column in a local progressive newspaper.  You can read this weeks submission here. In the article he explains that he has the button pictured (click to embiggen) for sale here in the building.  Early in the day we had  already had signs of interest.  (For those local, if you want one ask at the desk. $3)  I have to admit that while I appreciate the sentiment and have nightmares featuring Sarah Palin I'm not sure I have what it takes to wear the button.

Here's what I love about Stan; HE has no problem with it AT ALL.He'll wear that button and hope you ask him why.  The whole oil spill thing just makes me crazy.  I'm torn between wanting to go down there and clean off animals until I drop, or find someone, anyone responsible and slap them silly.  But, exactly who is responsible? I mean, I'm all for hanging the CEO and any and all henchmen of BP by their toe nails, but really, who is asking for the oil in the first place. I am.  We are.  As Stan wrote in his intelligent column, if we drive or use petroleum based products we have to shoulder at least some of the blame.  Sure BP was hugely in the wrong to drill without a safety protocol to deal with events such as this, but if there was not such a huge appetite for the slimy, black stuff there would not have been a drill in the first place.  

Ah, the grim truth.  Stan had some great suggestions of actions to prevent feeling, or being powerless in the face of such overwhelming ugliness. Someone asked me today if I thought the spill was a sort of Divine wake up call. I can't answer that, but I think Mother Earth has tried to get our attention in countless more subtle ways and it appears that humans, in general, need to be reminded of our charge to care for her in bolder terms. 

As Ghandi said, we have to be the change.  Nobody else is going to make things right if we don't take our own personal responsibility.  Right, left, middle...it shouldn't take such a disaster to make us sit up and take notice. Take notice and take action.

Nashville

 

A year ago this June AH and I spent a week in Nashville at the Gaylord Opryland hotel.  AH had a work related conference and I was lucky enough to tag along.  Every morning he walked across this magnificent hotel to the conference area and I spent the day getting to know Nashville. My blog posts of the experience begin here.  It was such a great time for me.  I spent hours wandering around this grand place checking out the gardens, shopping, having a bite to eat.  I even had several days of room service from some of the loveliest people I've yet to meet.  We were supposed to go again this year, but the company decided it was too costly.  I was SO disappointed.  It is a lesson on how things work out as they should because this is how the Gaylord looks today:

My heart goes out to the people of Nashville.  If there was one thing I learned about the South while I was there it is that nothing can keep them down for long.  Here is an article with ways that you can help if you feel called to do so.  It's a beautiful place, with an extraordinary history.  Stay strong, Nashville.  There is still more of your story yet to be written.

In the end, it all has caffine.

Work today was an interesting mix.  It always is, except on the really slow days.  Today was anything but slow.  First thing this morning two HUGE orders from Ten Thousand Villages and SERRV arrived and needed to be unpacked, checked, entered into the computer, and either stored or put on the floor.  There had to be at least 20 boxes so all hands were called in to help with the effort.  By noon the room was a total wreck.  I left at two and I feel bad for the afternoon crew.

So, about 1:00 the store fills up with people.  Everywhere I looked there were people with cameras and notebooks and in the center of all these people was a small Korean woman in awesome black boots and a pretty cool blue jacket.  My boss grabbed myself and friend Nancy and brought us into the circle to meet her.  She is Annabel Parks, founder of the Coffee Party.  I snagged this picture off the internet.  Anyway, apparently she was in town as part of a tour and had spoken last evening at Katie's Cup.  As we stood talking, cameras were flashing and I felt a little bit of the celebrity paparazzi dilemma. She met us both cordially, shook our hands and asked to have a picture taken with us.  She loved the store, commented on the space and spoke about Rockford in a way that told me she had done her homework before visiting.

I had done a little bit of research about the Coffee Party and she explained that while it's inception was in some part a response to the Tea Party movement, the Coffee Party's vision is to leave party lines at the door and work together as a people to create civility and support a government that actually gets things done.  Sounds good to me. You can see a video here about how the process came about.

In searching for this picture I found all sorts of sites blasting her for any number of supposed "left leaning" crimes.  Whatever.  I don't much care if she worked for Obama's campaign.  I don't care if she is his long lost 2nd cousin twice removed (she's not).  If she can get people talking about how to make things work instead of how much we hate the other side of the aisle, I'll listen to what she, and the Coffee Party, have to say. I'm not saying that I'll become a card carrying member, but knowledge isn't ever wasted.

If you are local and are interested in more info about the Rockford chapter you can email rockfordcpm@aol.com, or call (815)908-1794. Again, not currently affiliated, just offering some info.  If you're on facebook; facebook.com/coffeeparty .  Go forth and ponder.

Levels of Misery

Yesterday, when I did my first morning log in to facebook, I learned that Forbes Magazine has declared Rockford, IL, (home of the sock monkey...I kid you not.) the town where I was born and still live today, to be #14 on the Most Miserable City to Live In list.  Technically, I live in Machesney Park, which is a northern suburb (village connected to the north end of Rockford...not sure it actually qualifies as a burb), which, to be honest, makes Rockford look damn good, so everything is relative in life and geography. At least we aren't #1.

The criteria Forbes used had to do with crime and unemployment, and there is no question that Rockford has more than its share of both.  The crime part isn't something that has ever been a big issue for me, and I work in an older, sadder part of town next door to the needle exchange program.  The crime is there, but I've managed to avoid it, though have witnessed the drug problem frequently.  The unemployment is horrible and has touched several people I know and love.  

For me, who has lived here for-ev-er, its problems are different than those Forbes touched on.  Rockford is stuck in a conservative box that I don't ever for-see it breaking out of.  I'm not sure it wants to.  Part of the problem is that we are located close enough to larger, or trendier cities that most of us make fine use of on a regular basis. I certainly do. Perhaps if better shopping/dining/museums/films/theater/education/art were not quite so close at hand Rockford would step up to the plate and provide for itself. Maybe not.  I've heard the powers-that-be talk about it since I was old enough to grasp the concept, and that's been several decades.

Now, I'm no authority to talk here, because my idea of a great evening involves my husband, a fireplace, knitting needles and Netflix, but I think most of us that have lived here a long time have stopped looking close to home for our entertainment/leisure time options.  It's the proverbial forest from the trees scenario.  Rockford does have some really great qualities, but my jaded eyes have lost the ability to see them. Perhaps it's time for me to become a tourist in my own town and rediscover the positives that Rockford has to offer.

Case in point: this photo is of Anderson Gardens.  It's located ten minutes from my house.  The only time I go there is if visitors come from out of state and we have to figure out how to entertain them.  

 

Jane resides at the Burpee Museum of Natural History in Rockford. Confession: I have never, ever, been inside this museum.  Ever.  What is up with that?

So, before I spend much time complaining about where I live, I guess I ought to take some time to really get to know her first.  The real her, and not just what I think I see.

Still, is a Trader Joe's too much to ask for?

I had a dream.

And today it comes true.  It's a good day to be an American.

Too close to home. (updated)

Our thoughts and prayers go out to the students and their families that were involved in the shooting at NIU yesterday.  Both my son and his girlfriend graduated from that school.  While it is a large campus, it is located in the center of a relatively small town less than an hours drive from our house.  It is still sinking in that something this heinous happened so close to home.  I keep trying to remember if I had been inside that building, what the layout of the hall looked like. 

Please keep this little part of our world in your prayers as they try to put all the pieces together and begin to heal.

*update - Just got home from work and talked to my son on the phone.  He wanted to tell me that he had several classes with the shooter while he was a student at NIU.  Said he was extremely intelligent, always sat at the front of the class and frequently spoke up in class with a comment or argument.  I, to put it lightly, am freaked out.  If the shooter had reached this point a couple of years sooner....well, I'm just counting my blessings. 

Yes we can.

I have no desire to turn this blog space into any sort of political statement and I promise that I will not make a habit of doing so, but with Super Tuesday just around the corner the thoughts of civil right and obligation has been on my mind.  I encourage you, no, implore you, to vote on Tuesday if you live in one of the states that will be holding primaries that day.  The upcoming election is history in the making; more important than any we have seen in years and years.  Do the homework and vote your heart. Make your voice count.

It took me some time to decide on my candidate, but my vote will go to Obama.  He inspires me and gives me hope.  No candidate is perfect, but I believe that he is what this country needs to regain it's spirit and self respect, as well as the respect of the rest of the world.  Obama '08, a change we can believe in.  Yes we can.

Well directed passion.

I can't tell you how much I dig you guys.  Each and every one that reads this little blog and feels safe enough to share your opinion.....DIG you in such a big way.  (Even Tomsc2, who happens to be my father-in-law and a very fine person, despite his Bush support.)  One of the things that I have to say that I do like about the Bush administration is that it has stirred up some passion and that is a good thing as long as we direct it in the right direction.  To clarify just a tad, my choice to make my words about our president more peaceful does not mean that I don't still feel the same burning frustration that I did before.  It doesn't mean that I don't think he is an embarrassment to this country and that he should not be held accountable for his actions.  It means that I will choose my criticism appropriately to the action.  It's a big pill to swallow, I know, and I won't be successful all the time.  I've been reading "Creating True Peace" by Thich Nhat Hahn and I highly recommend it.  Perhaps I'll talk a bit more about this when I have more time.

Right now, Amazing Husband is packing the car and we are heading to our own personal nirvana, East Bay Suites in Grand Marais Minnesota. It's a long drive, but worth every minute.  We'll be three days in Grand Marais and three days in Duluth.  We are bringing the lap top, so there will be pics and blogging.

Again, thanks to you all for being willing to be open with your thoughts about anything I write.  Hugs to you all!

Roaring or Weeping

I'm still in the "re-employed and loving it" adjustment stage which includes busy days and falling into bed exhaustion so I don't have much great to report on.  Here are a couple of things that I am pondering on this blustery Fall day:

* Last night Ted Koppel was on the Daily Show.  He was promoting a special he is doing for the Discovery Channel called, "Iran: The Most Dangerous Nation".   Jon Stewart was asking him a few questions about his feelings about Iraq and the response he gave got my attention.  He said that there is that old joke, we knew that Saddam had weapons of mass destruction; we still have the receipts. So not funny.  They went on to discuss all the reasons Iran has to hate the US. It wasn't a long list, but powerful.

*Yesterday on NPR there was a short piece on some Russians that hate Americans so much that they have written a folk song about it.  The lyrics involved spitting and cursing.  Several of them were interviewed the vehemence of their hatred was frightening to me.  It appears that the most powerful country in the world is becoming perceived as the playground bully.

*I've been listening to Josh Groban's newest album and there is a song he does with Ladysmith Black Mambazo that tells the story of a man that lives in fear so huge that he builds a wall of steel and flame all around it and guards it with armed men.  The fear was huge and angry and terrifying until late one night when someone went to listen and heard not roaring, but weeping.  It wasn't roaring it was weeping.  I find those words resonating in my heart and head many times throughout the day.   

I still believe Peace is possible, but some days the road appears very long.