On Memorial Day, we not only remember, but also honor those who gave their lives in service to our country. We grieve with their families whose loss will never be forgotten. I’m fortunate that my father survived his military service in World War II. But last week, I spoke to an Army veteran via Zoom whose new movie, The Keeper, taught me that suicide means Memorial Day includes more veterans than you think.
Constance Hayes Matsumoto and Kent Matsumoto are authors of “Of White Ashes,” which is based on the true story of their Japanese American family during World War II.
Hear them discuss the inspiration for “Of White Ashes”.
It’s always a pleasure to attend community festivals that combine great fun with service to those in need. Over the weekend, I attended several of these events and I’ll be smiling over them for weeks. The first of these events was Derby Day on Saturday at the East Ridge Local Coffee. Derby Day was a fun way to support the East Ridge Needy Child Fund. This amazing organization does the important work of making sure that East Ridge children have shoes, clothes, toys and a food basket for the family.
We live in a time of chaos and raging hate. How do we survive? The Arts can help and we should turn to them. My dad read poetry non-stop when serving as a US military intelligence officer during World War II. He said that’s how he kept his sanity dealing with the horrors of war. Dad summoned the Arts generations ago, when we moved reluctantly to American and us kids were heartbroken leaving Bermuda behind. He took us to art galleries and art museums and, fantastically, to a Broadway theater to see the musical, “West Side Story”. Wow! Maybe this America thing isn’t so bad!
Have we time-traveled back a century when child labor was a thing? That’s what I first thought when I heard that a food sanitation company was being sued for illegally employing over 100 children ages 13 – 17. The kids cleaned razor-sharp saws with caustic chemicals while working overnight shifts at 13 meat processing facilities in eight states including Arkansas, Colorado, Indiana, Minnesota, Nebraska, Tennessee and Texas.
Honoring Black History Month often comes with events that tell African American history through arts and culture, which resonate across cultural boundaries. For example: the National Center for Civil and Human Rights will display jazz music that “inspires movements, evokes revolution, and lightens troubled spirits.”
Corporate celebrations may elevate Black artists, creators, entrepreneurs through storytelling, content and products. But as memorable as these celebrations are, they may be considered once-a-year, check-the-box events.
Writing about abortion is like leaping into a tornado, but here goes. I’ve always hated the idea of abortion, the term evokes pain and suffering as well as sorrow and mourning, whether you’re pro or anti-abortion. But I’ve advocated for giving women choice over their bodies since joining the many Jewish women involved in the first Women’s Liberation March in Manhattan in 1970.
While the protests of the seventies were a revolution, touching multiple area of our lives in the workplace and community,anti-abortionists saw us as irrational, unattractive feminist shrews. They called us “anti-family,” “angry battle-axes” and “radical Commie lesbians.” The “Domestic Infant Supply” language in the current supreme Court draft doesn’t just echo those sentiments, it magnifies them. Continue reading “Domestic Infant Suppliers” buckle up – by Deborah Levine→
Holiday traditions cling like ivy.
As a youth, come mid-December,
I went hunting for a cedar tree with Dad.
We trekked across tan, sage grass fields,
December-drab pastures, or maybe drove
a mile or two into nearby woods
in his ’49 Chevy to find a suitable
dark green specimen about six feet tall,
not so misshapen it couldn’t be trimmed
to some semblance of conical symmetry.
We hauled it home, square-cut the trunk,
made a stand of two crossed boards
nailed to the bottom.
Whacked off a stray branch or two,
whittled the top to take a star.
These days, everyone I talk to sounds anxious, scared and miserable. My first reaction is sympathy and empathy, the way my mother taught me. My second reaction is relief, since misery loves company.And when I feeling a bit guilty for that, I say to myself, “How can we not be?” Every time, I turn on the news, there’s another calamity. It feels like our world isimploding and none of us will escape unscathed.
First there’s a sense of world disintegration with the mess in Afghanistan. Seeing thousands of folks trying to cram into the airport to leave – scary. Watching people clinging to planes to get out – horrifying. Hearing the fears of women for the future – words escape me.
As we come to the end of March, Women’s History Month, we need to see this time as a wake up call regarding women’s safety. The shootings at Asian spas in Atlanta, where most of the victims were women, underscore the vulnerability of these women. Yes, the Asian-American community as a whole is experiencing a rising number of hate crimes given COVID. And Asian-American women experience twice as many hate incidents as men.
An Asian American studies professor noted that women have always dealt with harassment and public safety issues, but COVID provided another excuse to target Asian women. Bullies attack the vulnerable and stereotypes of Asian women as meek and subservient make them easy targets. That’s why it was unusual that a 75-year old Asian-American fought back when attacked on a street corner, sending her attacker to the hospital. She isn’t the only woman to be fed up with harassment and violence.
