My Thinking Rock

Today I went to my thinking rock; a special place in Warrensburg on the Hudson River. The Hudson River flows by; today it sparkled. I grew up along the Hudson, and this place is always a comfort to me.

I am overwhelmed by some personal things it would have been my husband’s and mine 43rd anniversary today. I try not to dwell on that too much; but it is there always. I tried the dating scene on line for a month-disastrous. A friend of mine let me down 2 times recently. I remember Anne Frank saying she believes in the good of people. I do, too. Most of the time.

I am overwhelmed more though by the state of our beautiful country. Covid is spreading again, I am scared, helpless.

And the BLM movement. It is beyond comprehension what is happening still in our country. I first became aware of the systemic racism in our country in the ’70s when I worked with migrant children whose parents picked apples in the Hudson Valley. All of the workers were Black.

I developed a rapport with a little girl and one time when she was sleeping, I just waited for her to wake up. When she saw me when she woke up she had the biggest smile on her face. She had a cut on her leg that was obviously untreated. For these kids there is no consistent schooling, no health records all so we white folks can eat apples.

I wrote a paper on the disparity of our culture in America and maybe at that time I began to refuse to say the pledge each morning in high school. I didn’t believe and still don’t believe there is liberty and justice for all in our country.

I am sickened by what is happening with people because of the color of their skin.

And here I sit a woman of white privilege.

My thinking rock in Warrensburg told me to listen to myself, to others and to the Shema. To ” hear oh God our God is one.”

There is hope. I know it. Perhaps in the deepest places we all can find ways to listen to each other and more importantly to hear what is being said.

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