Roots

I pen these musings with apologies to Alex Haley and Mark Twain, who never actually said; The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Roots was written by Alex Haley. I am no Alex Haley. I am just a woman who came to St. Louis not knowing what she would find here.
Twenty two years ago I drove a U-Haul truck filled with a lifetime full of 'stuff' from L.A. to St. Louis followed by a car driven by a wife with two kids, a dog, and more 'stuff'. I return to California after passing through the crucible of the Gateway City. I have shed a facade and a family. I emerge purified, and authentic. I carry less 'stuff' and I am returning to California, San Francisco, by plane.
What are roots? I find roots in front of me, I have roots behind me, and underneath me. If you dig in a garden, you find the roots are interconnected. One plants roots weave and twist together with it's neighbor's roots. I found just that sort of interconnection here. There are ancestral roots; Mother, Father, and their fore bearers. There are geographical roots. There are roots of identity. Roots may be as much about where you are going as where you have been. Roots are seen to be what is true and authentic. Roots are underneath, at the core, they are the base from which each life grows and blossoms in it's own unique and individual beauty. Roots are support and the LGBT Community of St. Louis has been that for me.
I leave St. Louis, but I take my roots with me as I plant myself in San Francisco. Those interconnected roots will take hold in soil that is at once old, and new. I return to California, to San Francisco, where my parents first lived in California. I leave St. Louis where my ancestors lived beginning in 1830. I return to California, a woman fully aware of my roots, my connections, my identity. I am proud of who I am and where I come from. I know where I am going and I have a purpose. Thanks to all who have knelt beside me and helped me dig at my roots. Your help has been invaluable, and at the same time, you are my roots. I will write down more of my thoughts about roots, about digging in the dirt of my soul as I touch down and replant those roots in San Francisco. Home is where the heart is. I leave a piece of mine in St. Louis.

Liz e LaVenture

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Yes, it is a song by U2 that commemorates a horrific day forty years ago, to the day. On, January 30, 1972, which really isn't that long ago, the British Army began firing on a peaceful march in Derry, in occupied Ireland. Twenty-six unarmed protesters were shot by the British Army, fourteen of which died. Two were injured when they were run over by army vehicles. Five of the wounded were shot in the back. Following a twelve year inquiry, The Saville Inquiry was made public June 15, 2010. The report found that all of those shot were unarmed, and that the killings were, "unjustified and unjustifiable." The British Govt. apologized, 38 yrs. after the fact.
The dead:
John Duddy, 17yr. Shot while running away.
Patrick J. Doherty, 31yr. Shot from behind while crawling to safety.
Bernard McGuigan, 41yr. Shot in the back of the head while helping Patrick Doherty.
Hugh Pius Gilmour, 17yr. Shot thru the elbow entering his chest as he ran from the troopers.
Kevin McElhinney, 17yr.  Shot from behind while crawling to safety.
Michael Gerald Kelly, 17yr. Shot in the stomach.
John Pius Young, 17yr. Shot in the head.
William Noel Nash, 19yr. Shot in the chest.
Michael M. McDaid, 20yr. Shot in the face walking away from the troopers.
James Joseph Wray, 22yr. Wounded, then shot again at close range while lying on the ground.
Gerald Donaghy, 17yr. Shot in the stomach while attempting to run to safety.
Gerald McKinney, 34yr. Shot right after Gerald Donaghy, he was running with his hands up, yelling "Don't shoot. don't shoot!!" He was shot in the chest.
William Anthony McKinney,27yr. Shot from behind as he attempted to aid Gerald McKinney (no relation).
John Johnston, 59yr. Shot in the leg and left shoulder, he wasn't even at the march, but walking to the park to visit a friend.

No British soldiers were wounded or reported any injuries, nor were any bullets, or bombs recovered to back up claims that they were fired upon first.

Notice the ages of the dead. The vast majority were teenagers, just kids. All were either running , or already prone on the ground and unarmed.

Why is this important to us in the U.S., forty years later? Northern Ireland is still occupied with an uneasy peace. Great Britain of all world governments most resembles ours. Both countries are ruled by an anglo-saxon hierarchy, both are uneasy in the face of protest, even if peaceful and legally sanctioned. In 2012, times are hard, the economy is bad, unemployment is at record levels, 1% of the population holds a preponderance of power and is unresponsive to the 99%. Many are denied their rights and due process. In sum, forty years is not that long ago....and not much has changed. I just pray there aren't any more Bloody - any days!!

Random musings from a muse.

Since I was a child it has been difficult to get close to people, or for them to get close to me, which is it? Perhaps it is the fire I have inside, I have a fire - a passion deep inside my core. Since I have begun living my authentic life, the fire is more focused and burns with a white-hot heat. Perhaps, people are afraid of getting burned, but the fire is contained and controlled and gives out only warmth and comfort. Humans have used fire for good since, well, time began. The only way someone would get burned by me is if they tried to silence me, or demean me, or push me aside. It would be like trying to stop a brushfire with a gardenhose. I will be heard, I will make a difference! Alone, my fire may burn out, it will change the landscape before it does though. But -imagine what we can do together!

Creating Change

Change was in the air.
The streets were empty,
no one was there.
Then torrents of rain came
there was no one to blame.

I was all alone
there was no one to talk to-
no one was home.
Still, I knew my goal was true.

I waded across the flooded street
searching for someone like me.
I didn't know who I would meet
but I knew I was finally free.

It's hard to create change alone.
Two hands are better than one.
Several voices create harmony.
United, we can be free.