It’s the root of things that inspires integrity. The trick to a healthy tree is in the roots. Considering the fact that we are such a polarized society, it begs the question what is at the root of our beliefs? Do we believe in the heart of equality and the soul of justice? What is the common ground that needs to be fertilized to keep the roots nourished?
This basic ethos of the “Golden Rule” has shaped our world. The common tenets of decency and kindness have served civilizations for thousands of years. If we did some digging into our own personal histories, we may be reminded of who we are, why we’re here and what we want in life and what our ancestors wanted for their progeny. It also me reminds me that foundational beliefs shape our virtues.
Unfortunately, I’ve met people who are unsympathetic to certain situations, and there’s a convenience in forgetting where they came from. In America we proudly wear the moniker of “mutts of the world” seeking better terms for our human condition. When I hear individuals speaking ill and buying into the argument that most migrants come here to pillage the coffers of a free society, I have to pause. There is no thought for the fact that most migrants are decent people escaping the political quandaries of oligarchical countries that have exploited them.
When I watch the rich and famous dig into their heritage on the show “Who Do You Think You Are?” with historian Henry Louis Gates, Jr., I hear stories of hardship and immigrant trials that cauterize their wounds with hopes for a better life.
I know a guy who is the son of a union man. He is vehemently opposed to unions. He says, “They ask for too much and are unreasonable.” Well, the union movement has suffered because of attitudes like this. What is the objection to the fact that he benefited from a union that protected the rights of his father? Why can’t this individual afford those particular rights to other individuals? That very system of justice worked out well for him, so much so that he was able to attain a significant position in management. Same goes for people who receive welfare and are better ff now. How soon we forget.
Memory – family memory especially — plays a role in helping us grow. Some people have family memories they would rather forget or have moved beyond certain memories in order to survive in life. This is understandable. Some memories are best left buried in the ground where they belong. Others are hanging in the ethers and waiting for us to pull them down in order to help us see new perspectives.
Narratives ground us. Narratives remind us of our past, and implicit memory is an act of helping us thrive in the vicissitudes of existence. My mother was a great storyteller. I once recorded her telling one of her favorite stories. The only video I wanted to keep of my mother, and it’s vanished into the great icloud of heaven. I have no choice but to recreate the story. I’m recalling her sitting in the easy chair talking about her intentions and feelings and emotions in the story. It’s not the same and will never be the same because she made it her own and told it in her own unique way. I’m now making it my own, as I try to remain true to her original intention. The story is grounded in place and people. I’ve researched where the event took place and her telling of the story rooted the story for me.
My parents’ brothers and sisters have passed on with the exception of one uncle and aunt. I took them on a ride through the old neighborhood in order to claim some of the spots that my father knew. I thought I might be able to get some information to keep his memory alive in this place. The place where he grew up is slowly disappearing. My grandfather’s store and the house behind it was demolished to make way for a dealership parking lot, but there are remnants like churches and old buildings that stand as monuments to many a memory.
Seeing my dad’s birthplace through the eyes of my uncle inspired something in me. My father’s roots, that shaped him, his virtues and his memories, have played a role in helping me become the man I am today. Every breath of experience breathed into this world for good or ill will render a precious perspective.
These days are tricky. I often find myself looking at contemporary issues and saying, “Boy, I wonder what mom or dad would’ve said about this?” I have a good idea because I had a wonderful relationship with them and talked openly about what they experienced and why they believed what they believed. I wonder how we can continue those conversations with generations who have no clue nor necessarily care about their family history.
It’s there in the roots of being. Our roots are inextricably linked. Maybe someday younger generations will pause and see that and listen as I have. Listening to my nieces and nephews, I hear similar sentiments and emotions and their blessed stories and opinions that hearken back to memorable traits of my parents. Maybe, just maybe therein lies the legacy. It’s in the roots of the DNA with goodness as fertile ground.
spirit beat 