Good News Tuesday: Animal Cruelty Legislation, A Message from a Father, and Prison Reform’s Early Release

Seeking Balance One Tuesday at a Time

 

US House Votes to Make Animal Cruelty a Federal Offense

The US house of representatives voted unanimously to approve a bill to make animal cruelty a federal offense with a penalty of up to seven years in prison.

Republican co-sponsor, Vern Buchanan said in a statement that the bill’s prospects of becoming law were favorable.

“This is a landmark bill that establishes for the first time a federal offense against the malicious torturing of animals,” Mr. Buchanan said. He added, “We are optimistic it will pass the Senate, which has already supported the bill in two previous sessions of Congress.”

Representatives recognize that animal cruelty is closely related to abuse of children and domestic violence. We are making progress.

Here’s the story from The New York Times

 

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Fathers and Daughters: A Comforting Answer Four Years Later

Chastity Patterson lost her father in 2015. She continued to send text messages to his phone number for four years about what was going on in her life: overcoming challenges, graduating from college, and her continuing love. On the eve of the fourth anniversary of her father’s death, 23 year old Chastity was ready to let go with a final message when she received a response. It was from a father who had lost his daughter.

Please read this story from the Good News Network.

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Prison Reform Early Release

527 prisoners were released in Oklahoma yesterday. The release was part of the state’s criminal justice reform which made drug possession a misdemeanor instead of a felony. All the sentences commuted were for low level crimes like drug possession and property theft. Here’s more:

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Got good news?

Please share in the comments!

Good News Tuesday: Forgiveness, Free Dad Hugs, and Rain Forests

Seeking Balance One Tuesday at a Time

Finding the Father Who Abandoned Her Twenty Years Earlier

“I asked the Lord for strength to help me know how to talk to her.” The only thing I wanted to ask her: Forgive me. ”  Ileana’s father,  Ernesto Quintanilla

Ileana’s mother was 16 when she gave birth to her daughter. Her father left when she was a baby, and Ileana was raised by her loving maternal grandparents.  She asked them and her mother about her father, but didn’t learn much more than his name. As an adult, she had a passion for children. Ileana volunteered for the non-profit Food for the Hungry and then became a staff member traveling to rural communities in her country of Nicaragua. One day, she met a boy with the same last name as hers. She asked him his father’s first name. It was the same name as her father’s, Ernesto.

The story below brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. I hope you will read the article and watch the video included in this link:

https://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/fathers-day-miracle-reunites-woman-and-dad/

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Free Dad Hugs at the Pride Parade

This one made me cry too. Scott “Howie” Dittman shares about the responses he got to his offer of free dad hugs at the Pittsburgh Pride Parade.

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Costa Rica Has Doubled its Tropical Rain Forests

Setting an example for the rest of the world, Costa Rica had doubled its tropical rain forests in just a few decades.  In the last half of the 20th century the country’s forests were cleared indiscriminately.  But Costa Rica has reversed this destruction by focusing on tourism and creating programs to protect its rich ecosystems. You can read more about how Costa Rica takes care of its forests in this article from World Economic Forum.

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Got good news? Feel free to share in the comments!

 

Ain’t No Grave (Gonna Hold This Body Down)

It’s strange that I don’t consciously recall hearing “Ain’t No Grave” before my friend Elaine shared it in memory of her father. Strange because it’s such a powerful song, especially with Molly Skaggs’ voice and the stunning images in the video below.

I share this song today in celebration of the spirit of Martin Luther King and hope Dr. King wont mind if I also share it in honor my father who left this earth two years ago today. They both loved Jesus dearly. They were men of courage and conviction. Dr. King changed laws and opened the eyes of a nation with determination, love, and peace. My father worked on a smaller scale. After 20 years of military service, my father  (and mother) volunteered at the local soup kitchen, led a boy scout troop, ministered to disabled veterans, and taught Sunday school into his eighties.

Last night, I discovered a new stash of memorabilia in the attic. I thought I was done with the hard part of processing of my parents stuff, but there’s more. There are at least three big trunks in the attic, and I’ve only opened one of them. Inside the first trunk I found maybe 50 letters my mother sent my father in 1968 when he was stationed at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba shortly after Vietnam.

After reading just two letters, I’m beginning to realize what a difficult time this was for my parents when I was 12 and clueless, though I must have sensed something. Who knows what I’ll learn through my mother’s letters and what more I’ll find on this fascinating journey where the scent of my father’s old treasures makes me want to fall into a puddle on the floor.  But I don’t fall often. And if I do, I get up. I keep breathing and digging.

It’s all a process. Some day, I will have gone through all the physical items. The attic will be empty and the house will be sold. But the memories will live on. The spirit does not die.

As my father told me when I was 12, “Nothing is Impossible.”

 

 

Finally Understanding My Mother

1967

Like another lifetime

Yet the same lives,

My dad, your husband,

Is off fighting the war

In Vietnam.

Your thoughts are with him,

Wondering, is he safe?

Is he hungry?

Will he make it home?

Not wanting to think about it,

Not wanting to watch the news,

But worrying nonetheless.

My little sister wonders too

Though it looks like she’s playing

Making lines in the dirt

Like a meditation.

I stand quietly.

Thinking. Pondering.

Wondering how to help.

Maybe just standing by your side.

Is enough.

 

Now, I understand

How strong you really were.

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This photo is one of the treasures I’ve found as I go through the things that belonged to my parents, Betty and Jim. It was taken in 1967 when my father was in Vietnam and we were visiting relatives in Connecticut. Whoever took it had a good eye for capturing the moment. It’s very different from most of the photos I find where my mother is older, posing with a smile or volunteering at church or the soup kitchen with Dad.

When I was growing up, my mother suffered from depression that caused her to be hospitalized more than once. The last nervous breakdowns came when Dad was in Vietnam. For many years I thought of my mother as weak. She was always kind, but a little fuzzy in the brain. I wanted her to be strong.

Now, I get the fuzzy brain too, like: “why did I come into this room?” Now, when I look at this photo, I feel compassion.

After Mom died in 2008, I asked my dad what helped him get through the horrors that haunted him from Vietnam – things he didn’t want to talk about because they gave him nightmares.

“It was your mother’s love,” he told me.

I always knew they loved each other very much. But I had not known this:

My mother’s love was strong enough to save the strongest man I’ve ever known.

Yesterday, I wished my mom a happy birthday.  I’m glad she and Dad are together again. Strong in faith. Strong in love.

 

For My Father

 

When I was in my twenties

searching for myself,

I did not understand

the man you were,

how you suffered and fought

and how deeply you loved

my mother,

my sisters,

and me.

As I got older, you got older.

And now that you are gone,

I am in awe

of the integrity of your life.

And now, as I pray for my daughter,

in her twenties,

searching for herself,

I wonder if this is how

you prayed for me

and if somehow, some day

my strength,

my faith,

will rub off on her

as yours has on me.

 

The Strongest Man I’ve Ever Known, 1931-2017

 

 

A Pacifist Honors a Soldier

At first, I was going to skip Song Lyric Sunday this week. I had mixed feelings about the theme: Songs about the military. You see, for many years, I’ve been a pacifist. I love peace songs. I’m a card carrying member of Grandmothers for Peace.

My dad, sometime in the 50s?

Still, I want to honor my father. He was a marine for 20 years. He was a good man. A loving man. A devout Christian. He was tormented about what he experienced in Korea and Vietnam. Haunted. He had terrible nightmares about those wars. He was also the strongest and bravest man I’ve ever known. He told me that, “Nothing is impossible.” My father served his country well, both in the military and afterward, up until his death this past January.

So, for today’s military theme, I’m sharing the Marine Corps Hymn. I remember my daddy singing it when I was a little girl. I will always be proud of him.

The last few lines are kind of funny.

From the Halls of Montezuma
To the Shores of Tripoli;
We fight our country’s battles
In the air, on land and sea;
First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
of United States Marine.

Our flag’s unfurled to every breeze
From dawn to setting sun;
We have fought in ev’ry clime and place
Where we could take a gun;
In the snow of far-off Northern lands
And in sunny tropic scenes;
You will find us always on the job–
The United States Marines.

Here’s health to you and to our Corps
Which we are proud to serve
In many a strife we’ve fought for life
And never lost our nerve;
If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven’s scenes;
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines.

Read more: https://www.scoutsongs.com/lyrics/marinecorpshymn.html#ixzz4iLVSNpXA

Here’s the the song:

https://youtu.be/jWbWlz4HWcE

Love Letters From My Father

 That’s me on the right, just in case you couldn’t tell.

After my father died, I found letters he’d written to me over the years and saved, like a journal, hidden in the old cabinet he used as an end table next to his recliner. I’m still processing the content of these letters. One of them is about why he didn’t come to my rescue when I wanted to come home from the college in the mountains.

This excerpt from my work in progress explains:

On my second day in Boone, before classes started, my roommate and I went to a pub not far from campus. I recognized Chris, a super brainy girl from my high school who’d already been at the college for a year. She waved to me and invited us to sit with her. My roommate saw some people she knew and went to sit with them. Chris made me feel welcome, and I started to feel comfortable with her. Maybe the beer helped. She asked me how I was doing.

“Well, I’m a little nervous,” I admitted.

“That’s normal. It’ll get better.”

“And I miss my boyfriend. I’m actually thinking of going back home.”

Chris looked thoughtful. “You know, you’ve got your whole life to go to college,” she said. “If you want to go home, it’s okay. It’s your decision.”

I was surprised by her response. I’d expected her to encourage me to stay. If this brainiac said it was okay to go home, then who was I to fight it any longer?

I called my parents and said I wanted to come home. Having just driven seven hours each way to bring me there a couple of days earlier, Dad refused to come get me. He didn’t say much, leading me to guess he was disgusted or at least disappointed.

Being stubborn, I managed to find another way home, but that’s another part of the story.

Fast forward to 43 years later when I read my Dad’s secret letters last week. One his letters revealed that the reason they didn’t come get me was because their old station wagon had a blow out on their trip home and left him “without a spare.” He wrote in Jan 2011: “Money was very short and, we had very little in the bank, and almost nothing on hand. I would have to have gotten permission from work…We also thought about what you were giving up….I have to admit my love for you was and still is a factor. After we made our decision not to come up, we went to bed, but I don’t think either one of us slept that night. The decision bothered us for years and we talked about it for even more years, even after you were married….I still felt guilty.”

I had no idea that money was a problem back then! I figured it was all about not wanting to bail me out when I should have stayed. I thought it was just because he was mad at me. I’ve carried that shame for years. And all this time, HE felt guilty for not coming to get me. I knew my parents loved me, but I didn’t know how much until I read these letters full of love.

Ive always wanted my father to be proud of me, even when I resented him. Even when I didn’t like his conservative beliefs. Even when I avoided him. I still, deep down, wanted him to be proud of me.

And what I’m finding out from his secret love letters is that he was.

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Love Prevails

Art by JoAnne Silvia

Angel armies guard the grieving

weeping for their sons and daughters.

How long do we wait for love to prevail?

For thirteen years he prayed

For his father to accept him

and not despise the way he loves.

He reached past the harsh words

and called again on Father’s Day.

Perhaps the prayers had made their way

Into  his father’s heart

or maybe Orlando’s anguish

released the simple question,

“How’s your fella doin?”

Melting the wall of sadness and

Confessing a father’s love

While there’s still time.

To read about Orlando’s angels who guard mourners from protesters, click below:

http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2016/06/19/482698337/angels-from-orlandos-theater-community-guard-mourners-from-protesters

Family History: Secrets and Light

We’re in Connecticut this weekend for two events. We come here every June for my mother-in-law’s birthday. She’s 80, and looks about 70. She’s doing great!

I liked her when my husband and I dated in 10th grade, and I like her now. She is gracious and has a lovely laugh. She always reminded me of Sophia Loren. I’ll see if I can find a photo for you…..

My mother-in-law in 1967

The other reason we’re here, this year, is for my father-in-law’s memorial service. My husband’s family graciously waited to schedule that when we would be here anyway for his mom’s birthday. My husband’s relationship with his father was strained. There’s not a lot of information about his father’s family. My father-in-law’s father died when he was very young. The rest of the family history is a mystery. That’s too bad.

I believe getting more information about family history can help us understand why our parents act the way they do.

We have lots of family history on my mother-in-law’s parents, Malcolm and Edna. I know that after my mother in law got divorced, her father used to bring her a bag full of change every week to help her get by. I never met them, but feel as if I know them from the stories my husband tells me.

I love to listen to my father talk about his family, growing up in Wisconsin, and sometimes about his twenty years in the Corps. My mother’s family tree is more mysterious. I never knew my maternal grandfather and heard he worked in the circus and then owned grocery stores in Washington, DC before I was born. There are secrets on that side of the family. Like there are secrets on my husband’s father’s side of the family.

Growing up, I always thought my mother was weak. I wish I had more information on her history, because I believe she lived through challenges I know nothing about. I do know she grew up during the depression and would never throw away food. In restaurants, she’d wrap leftovers in a napkin and put it in her purse. I don’t know if they had “doggie bags” back then when I was a kid.

After my mother died, talking with my father about Vietnam, which he rarely talks about, I asked him how he got through that horrible time and the nightmares after he came home.

“It was your mother’s love,” he told me. Your mother got me through it.

This new information surprised me. The love of the woman I thought of as weak was strong enough to save the strongest man I’ve ever know.

This week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday Post was “information.” If you’d like to join in the fun, visit:

http://lindaghill.com/2015/06/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-615/

Here are the rules:

1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing, (typos can be fixed) and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.

2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.

3. There will be a prompt every week. I will post the prompt here on my blog on Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” or “Begin with the word ‘The’.”

4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people can come and read your post! For example, in your post you can write “This post is part of SoCS:” and then copy and paste the URL found in your address bar at the top of this post into yours.  Your link will show up in my comments, for everyone to see. The most recent pingbacks will be found at the top.

5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. Even better, read everyone’s! If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later, or go to the previous week, by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find right below the “Like” button on my post.

6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!

7. Have fun!