Liberty & Freedom
Mr President and the First Lady are a mated pair of bald eagles that nest within the capital building in Washington, DC. Their eaglets, Liberty (hatching March 18th) and Freedom (hatching March 20th) both fledged in early June at a little over 11 weeks. The American Eagle foundation partnered with the National Arboretum to install and stream two high-definition camera's to document their activity. They will resume filming in 2017. With an election upon us, and a resent visit to two geographic locations, this seemed an appropriate month to explore the proponents of Liberty, Freedom and faith.
The Declaration of Independence - We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable (cannot be taken away or denied) Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I was driving through the Mojave desert in California last weekend when I passed a road sign that said Manzanar visiting center. Having written a paper in college twenty-five years ago on the relocation camp of Japanese Americans following the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1947, I decided to take the detour on a dusty trail in September 2016. Like bookends at the library of Congress on Independence Avenue in Washington, DC, my summer began with a visit to the Civil Rights museum in Atlanta, GA and was now ending here where remnants lie and like our eaglets, thread the elements of Freedom and Liberty across a worn flag.
Part I: Liberty Fear drove the movement to round-up Japanese men, women and children into buses where their possessions were sold and parceled out as people where incarcerated in barracks for three years (1942-1945). Under President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Executive Order 9066 was signed February 1942 authorizing the Secretary of War in the pursuit of relocating over 110,000 Japanese-Americans (2/3 of which were native-born American citizens) into one of 10 camps along the western states. Once rich in water and orchard trees, the Owens Valley became the home of the first detainment facility called Manzanar. Established in 1910, the town was vibrant with vegetation as ground water was abundant but as early as 1905, the city of Los Angeles began secretly buying water rights and by 1929 the town was virtually abandoned and the water gone. The ground was fertile for re-location as this was not the first time people were forcibly removed from their homes. Manzanar (Apple Orchard in spanish) was first inhabited by Paiute Native Americans but after the discovery of gold and silver, a power conflict arose over the abundant resources in the valley and at the end of the Owens Valley Indian War of 1861-1863, natives were re-located at gunpoint by the U.S. Army. The forced migration was one in a series known as the Trails of Tears Indian removal act of 1830. As I stepped on the grounds this day, I thought of people torn from communities - a pilfer of dreams and an abandonment of ideals and tried to reconcile history and faith and my place in it.
Manzanar was set up with 36 blocks, 14 barracks per block, each separated by four buildings - a laundry, ironing room, men and woman's latrine as well as a mess hall and recreation center. Almost everything is gone now - erased from the memory of those involved in a mistaken expression of fear. While the footprints have disappeared, a basketball hoop stands as a reminder of life inside these walls - where rules don't limit people on a journey. Despite the forced containment, people managed to fall in love, were married, had children, were educated, worked, lived and died. Eventually water gardens, parks and paths were chiseled into the landscape. Rooms were made with sheets or blankets, teams were formed and life continued despite the barbed wire. As I wandered through the museum, I listened to voices and sifted through pictures searching for clues of freedom and liberty. I drove the perimeter where vacant lots were only shadows of something different: a school, a hospital, churches, homes, a baseball field, a cemetery, a park, they reminded me of the people that once inhabited this space. Looking at the map, I walked over tumbleweeds and rocks toward a tree where the high school once stood. There were no carved initials or markers. I quietly prayed as an active expression of respect for the young men and women that once stood beneath this tree and hoped the narrative of their stories were ones of faith and hope. The Declaration of Independence - We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
In June 1782, Charles Thomson, secretary to the Congress assembled communication from various committee meetings to blend thought and ideals into a shield baring an Eagle holding in it's talons thirteen arrows and an olive branch with thirteen leaves as a symbol of war and peace. Revised and refined, the American Bald Eagle was adopted on the Great Seal of the United States of America and is used to authenticate documents issued by the Federal Government. Seeped in symbolism and history, the Great Seal stands as a symbol of freedom. I stood on the edge – closing my eyes and with the current of air glided forward above the roof tops of houses and fences, higher and higher I drifted upward, outward until sound softly fell on pillows of white - free. Part II: Freedom "Freedom and Justice cannot be parceled out in pieces to suit political convenience. I don't believe you can stand for freedom for one group of people and deny it to others". Mrs. Coretta Scott King These were the words I wrote on a post-it from my backpack with the words "Escape" written on the outside. It was a 12 hour journey - a solo flight. Black tea, cinnamon, ginger, clove, cardamom and black pepper, it was as if my soul was seeped in spiritual goodness. Plans changing beyond my control, I found myself alone in a new town in an unfamiliar neighborhood. I had never stayed in an air B&B but it was cheaper than the normal hotel and the bio of the owners seemed good. The house was built in 1910 (a date that has meaning for me) so I booked the room for three nights. a) Lens Maps are not my strongpoint and fear is a comfortable perch so this adventure needed an element of faith - trust, prayer and a willingness to step out of my comfort zone. Eagles have a keen sense of sight and like this great bird, my lens needed to be through God's eyes, not my own. The background: Each step of the way, I needed to rely on people. I was visiting a new town at a time when my personal life was vulnerable. This was an important key to the transformation of my character - humble and not in control. Humble and not in control : Isn't that where the real work begins? If we rely on currency - our money, our plans, our judgements, our experiences, our worth, our ability, then how will we see life through faith - where God not only knows our deepest desires and largest failures but invites us into the lives of others? Where hope is not in gold, silver, property or possessions but points toward an eternal kingdom rich with relationships, experiences and a deep abiding faith; only there does the real freedom begin. I was visiting the birthplace of civil rights leader, Martin Luther King, Jr, the pulpit from which he spoke, the Civil Right's museum, College Football Hall of Fame (see Sept) and finishing up with a jazz concert at the High Museum of Art Atlanta. From the outside, these destinations have been well traveled, documented and studied but on the inside, the people that showed me the way there were illuminated like trees with a little sunlight.
Life: Amazing what water can do. As I was writing this morning, I took these pictures as an illustration of God working on the inside and the trail I took on an ordinary day in Atlanta, GA. Having maneuvered trains, trolleys and buses, my first stop on a civil rights walk was one in which I needed directions and like a reverse order of things, I asked several black school-aged children who were on a field trip headed in the same direction. Now I get the "don't talk to strangers" but the fear in their eyes was as if they were more cautious of my skin color than of my words. Even the leaders ignored my question - it was an odd feeling as I looked at my compass pointed toward grace. I hitched a ride alongside other folks headed in the same direction and found myself in a crowd waiting to enter a house on Autumn street. As if a strong breeze blew through tall trees, my judgements were being swept toward faith. I had peered through what I thought to be the church where King, Jr preached, I passed small rows of houses on modest lots and thought back to my honorary God father who challenged people to go deeper in their faith. A personal friend to black musician, Duke Ellington, he is credited alongside a few others in inspiring Ellington to write and perform the sacred concert at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, 1965. That same man was inspiring me in the 1970's as we talked about what it was like to be a black musician during the civil rights movement. He introduced me to the music of legendary jazz musicians and a dialog about music, faith and culture. I thought back to moments as a junior high school kid sitting in his living room with music loud and the quiet ripple of his influence. God was in the midst - I just hadn't realized it. I no longer saw rows of houses in need of fresh paint but in porches filled with the song and dance of people full of life; I stood wondering if my voice had any meaning in a conversation about civil rights. Deep in thought in the midst of a crowd, the imagined melody of their music crept into my space and challenged me to go deeper. I stood reticent not wanting the emotions of missing people to seep in. The once vibrant Sweet Auburn historic district was an African-American neighborhood that grew in affluence following the Atlanta Race Riots of 1906. As I stood among the crowd of kids, my height, color and ignorance stood out like a clash of the cymbal in a jazz concert. There is no way I could ever understand the significance of this small plot of land like my young friends. At least three generations of black men born into a community of faith and social activism was represented here. Adam Daniel Williams, grandfather to King was a pastor and social activist at Ebenezer Baptist church for twenty-five years. Martin Luther King, Sr was a pastor and civil rights leader. Martin Luther King, Jr was born into large shoes. God was in the midst - he just didn't know it yet.
Last night Paul McCartney said, living across the pond he wanted to say something about the civil rights unrest of the 1960's. In the song, Blackbird, I too am living across the pond, metaphorically, from the social unrest of the times. A lot has happened since I visited the civil rights museum 5 months ago. Voices clashing in culture, and patriotism. A sign flashed across a video screen last night with the words, are we still protesting this shit and even I was surprised at the timing of this month's post An Eagle has many attributes that make it stand above the rest. It is the only bird that flies directly into a storm. It uses the wind currents to take it higher and farther. The Eagle is a bird that before choosing a mate, examines the males trustworthiness in a series of acrobatic tests. An Eagle will coax the eaglets out of the nest as an act of independence. Eagles are fearless. At about thirty years, Eagles retire from flight, plucking it's feathers to allow new growth to strengthen them for new flights. It is no wonder the forefathers gathered to discuss the proponents of liberty and freedom, using the attributes of an Eagle, branding the image into the threads of a dream. Back on the trail: I toured the birthplace that morning and followed a crowd toward the visitors center where pictures, words and artifacts were scattered. Pulling away from the crowds, I pulled into the experience. Hearing King, Jr's voice while sitting in a pew at the real Ebenezer church, befriending men on a bus that were born and living in this community and who had never been outside of this neighborhood but were rich in wisdom and insight. Putting my hands on a make-shift counter at a "white-only" experience where the taunting voices and spat threats that were once a reality for men and women. As I listened to the speeches amid a 180 degree theater, I listened to songs, speeches, words and sifted through images of living a bold faith where a fight for freedom stood. People speaking - voices, music, speeches, flags, faces, judgements, heartbreaks, courage, set-backs, successes, threats, unity, injustices, together, alone, depth, trust, hope, confidence, love - the ideals of a dream in a country founded on freedom. The Declaration of Independence - We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness. It was really beyond words ... i sought an escape. I had walked into the Civil Rights museum with skies that were blue and bright. It was hot on a day in June but something had changed. Quite to my surprise I walked out into a storm. The clouds were dark and heavy, the air thick, the rain drizzling. It was exactly how my heart was feeling. Deeply entrenched with introspection, it was a light tune of the Adam's Family theme song that drew me out of my thoughts and made me smile. I kept walking but when the theme song for Star Wars came on, I looked and smiled; a nice looking black man in a crisp gingham dress shirt was playing a trumpet under a covering from the storm. I reached into my pocket retrieving money to put in a tip jar for someone who brought levity to my day of walking in another person's shoes; I needed this stranger. The currency was not in paper. My gesture was met with a few words and as I looked deeply into his eyes, I talked. He listened and said the same thing happens to him when he leaves the museum. The bartering in currency was in our mutual understanding. Pent up tears began to slide into my dry hands under stormy skies. We laughed. We cried. We hugged. As I left, he said "this song is for you" and like the wind in a storm, the tune that played that afternoon swept my spirit higher and father than my plans had taken me and the sound drifted like a breeze through tall trees. Where was God in the midst? Later that evening, sitting in an art museum with new friends listening to a jazz concert surrounded by stark white marble and brilliant colors of paintings in the images that surrounded me, the same song that a stranger played just for me hours beforehand echoed in halls of freedom on a day of civil rights. I stood on the edge – closing my eyes and with the current of air glided forward above the roof tops of houses and fences, higher and higher I drifted upward, outward until sound softly fell on pillows of white - free. I cried myself to sleep most nights as a child and often dreamed of flight. God's currency is not ours. It is about the relationships that come to define us. I recently watched a short video clip on social media about people's cynicism of how God would allow such bad things to happen; the response was that He sent you. Civil Rights, freedom, an election - as I thought of the people at Manzanar, or the ones in Atlanta, GA or in the words, images and voices in a country built on the proponents of liberty and freedom, I could not help but feel the patriotism of men and women of all colors and genders and experiences bringing together the hope of what our forefathers dreamt. God in the midst? It is not difficult to find the weaknesses in the leaders, musicians and ordinary folks of this world because they are human living in a fallen world with fragile humanity. Faith, hope and love - but the greatest of these is love. Living on the downward flight path, I wonder if my voice (one voice) really matters. But I have learned that the more I lean into faith, the more deeply I feel loved and with God's breathe, allows me to love others. My prayer is that you will, if only for a moment, walk in the shoes of someone else because in the process, their currency might just change you and you may be who God sent.
And ye shall hallow the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof: it shall be a jubilee unto you; and ye shall return every man unto his possession, and ye shall return every man unto his family. Leviticus 25: 10 The bolded portion of the quotation is inscribed on the Liberty Bell. In God we trust. Amen.
Pictures: Taken by me or Fotolia, music may be purchased my I-Tunes, video links through You-tube and attached, information wikipedia, stories my own. copyright 2016.
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AuthorA person who searches for depth and beauty in the simple things. Archives
November 2017
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