a spark of
in a single piece
And, here we are. My three postcards seemed to fit hand-in-glove, so I want to share them with you. I believe all our art sends messages that are as telling as the letters we write. The images here were saved for an "I can use this someday" day. See? Hoarding can be a good thing.
Take the fine image of Dr. King. I was instantly in love the moment I saw it. It came as part of an ad for Houston's Alley Theatre's current presentations. The yellow stars remind me of lightning bugs no matter how I look at them. The sign is what it is. The Loraine Motel was designed for destiny. Remember when men wore white shirts, ties, pants with sharp creases? Oh. They still do? Well, what about that Clybourne Park street sign? Does it remind you of the sign from Roseanne? What street did the Conners live on? No matter. I popped that rooster there because they always herald the day. Do you recognize the significance of Clybourne? No matter. Any image of Dr. King reminds me that I still need to overcome.
The hardest thing to make itself behave is my self. I hope I can someday overcome the parts that need overcoming; and give my power to increasing the good parts. I still have to deal with my inherent and learned prejudices and racism. I believe that I'm better for the growing friendships that I have developed, and am still developing with some of you. Learning fosters growth and destroys fear of the unknown. People go to war because they fear their "enemy." I have no enemy unless I accept one. And, as Maya Angelou informed me, since "we are more alike than we are different," I know that you understand what I am trying to say.
I am proud to be an American. We are not a perfect nation, but we are better than we were once upon a time. We can only get better. Why? Because I believe we are working hard to regain our pride. We are like a 64 colors box of Crayola crayons. Surely we rub shoulders with every culture on the planet, and we manage not to kill ourselves with self-hatred. The way I see it, if my neighbor is a part or our Creator, then I have to hate myself first, before I can hate someone else. I might not like everything they do, but here, in America the Beautiful, I live among good people who defend their right to live as they see fit. As long as it does not infringe on the rights of others. Well, it's supposed to be that way, but . . .
In my America, I can write to whomever I want. I won't be stoned, or beaten, have acid thrown in my face, jailed, or killed because I like you. Our country is a reflection of our homes. Families argue, disagree, fight, hug, laugh, love, and grow. You know what I mean, right? You might not like your sister today because she wore your new sweater, and spilled latte down the front, but if someone says she looks like a pig, well, you will defend her to the max. America is just like that. We try. We fail. We try again. We try harder. We will get it right, eventually, don't you think?
Not to get too sentimental, I will stop here, and say good night, and God bless.
God shed His Grace on thee.
And crown thy good
To shining sea.
P.S. It's not finished until it's signed. See the white space. It's waiting for something. The finish. Hmm.