THE INNOCENT TOUCHED BY THE RUTHLESS HAND OF MAN

A series of essays....

“THE GOLDEN RULE“ BY NORMAN ROCKWELL
~FREEDOM, DIVERSITY, LOVE~

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Chances are extremely high that most of us, even among eighteen-year-olds and younger, have become more politically savvy within the past few years. Current events have lured our youth into arenas they had previously only hoped to enter after obtaining a college education and sorting-out their career. Too often, circumstances have forced our children to jettison their youth and face a life filled with fear, mistrust, and memories best forgotten.

Having lived in Central Florida for many years I will admit to having a good life filled with plenty of sunshine, sandy beaches that were easily accessible both to my east and west, and being able to wear my beloved sandals twelve months out of the year! Those who know me best know how important the last pleasure is to me and I’m often chastised for having them on while running outside on a quick errand on any given Southwestern Michigan winter’s day. Go figure!

MAPS THAT DEMANDED A REACTION
THEY ALWAYS SEEMED TO STRIKE IN THE EARLY MORNING HOURS!

Yes, I’ve also lived through at least eight major hurricanes with each affording us ample time to decide whether to board-up the windows and ride them out (which we did each time) or pack the most important items and move out of harm’s way for the duration. Even in seemingly uncontrolled natural conditions, we remained in control of our destiny, to a certain degree.

Chills continue to overpower me when recalling at least two major events in Florida that changed my life and the lives of many others, especially the young and the innocent, forever! 

It was what most observers would describe as a ‘little black box,’ subdued and nondescript from the outside. On the inside it was a refuge and a home to the large LGBT community of Orlando, Florida. The patrons of Pulse Nightclub considered it to be a safe haven to just be yourself, a place where you forgot about having to fit in, and a fun venue to be able to enjoy the glitz and music with friends. 

49 PRECIOUS SOULS LOST  FOREVER AT PULSE ORLANDO.
SENTENCED TO DEATH BY THE RUTHLESS HAND OF MAN......

In the early morning hours of June 12, 2016, the world was savagely turned upside down, once again, when a 29-year-old, American born, gunman decided he had the right to eliminate the future hopes and dreams of 49 young people, along with wounding 53 others, in a mass shooting at Pulse Orlando. From 2:22 a.m. to approximately 5:00 a.m., over two and a half hours of living hell transpired with many first responders saying how witnessing the carnage had changed their own lives forever.

It was the deadliest shooting by a single perpetrator in United States history until the Las Vegas Strip shooting on October 1, 2017.

Suddenly, Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, Parkland, Florida, and Broward County popped-up on our radar for all of the wrong reasons.

A Valentine’s Day Massacre for the new millennium rolled into Florida that peaceful, ‘candy heart’ kind of day when a 19-year-old former student of the school decided he could enter the premises, shoot to kill, and then walk away at his leisure. All in a days work.. He left behind him the brutal murder of 17 people (14 students and 3 staff members) and the injuring of 17 others. The images of death and suffering of our innocent youth would remain burned into our thoughts from this February 14, 2018 massacre, and gun control was being placed upon the strong shoulders of our young citizens. The first of many organized demonstrations outside the White House in Washington, D.C. began as early as February 18, 2018, four days after the shooting.

Victims of this mass shooting ranged in age from 14 to 49 years old.

We should all remember these names:

Emma González, Alfonso Calderon, Sarah Chadwick, Jaclyn Corin, Ryan Deitsch, David Hogg, Cameron Kasky, and Alex Wind.

These are the names of our future. 

These are the names of the teen survivors who instantly became activists of Students Against Gun Violence and organizers of marches for gun control and co-founders of the gun-control advocacy group Never Again MSD (Marjory Stoneman Douglas). Their battle cry: “We can’t let fear consume us,” and this is why Parkland activists won't give up! They are today’s critics of politicians who are supported by the National Rifle Association; they may serve as tomorrow’s leaders fighting for a better, safer world.

STUDENTS PROTEST GUN VIOLENCE OUTSIDE OF THE WHITE HOUSE
ON FEBRUARY 18, 2018

Courtesy of Lorie Shaull

I am reminded of the phrase: What doesn’t kill us will only make us stronger. 

There is a good chance that a certain percentage of the survivors of these callous shootings will go on to hold political positions one day in order to encourage reform and remain in control of their own destiny. What the vulnerable, young people of both Pulse Orlando and the high school students in Parkland were made to endure will live with each individual survivor for the rest of their life. This is a burden no one would legitimately wish upon their children. And yet, it has happened more than we care to think about in this country, alone.

My young grandchildren are reasoning on their own the consequences of the coronavirus in their lifetime; this includes the loss of a major portion of their last school year and whether or not it will be a responsible move to return to classes this fall. Wearing a mask over your nose and mouth in public has become the newest version of throwing on a baseball cap before exiting the back door to go play with your friends. Their biggest fear is not when they can get together with their friends but instead, if they do get together, even with precautions, could they still bring the virus home to their own family.

THE SYMBOL OF PULSE ORLANDO WILL
ALWAYS BE ETCHED INTO MY MIND

As badly as I don’t want them to have to grow-up so soon, I’m afraid that this simplistic way of thinking has been left behind by the wayside months ago. So, when I see them playing video games or perfecting no-handed back flips on the trampoline these days, I’m encouraged by this reputed normalcy and my heart swells with love and happiness!

Never, never will we forget the martyrdom our youth has been left to deal with in the form of needlessly losing friends or family due to the lack of outlined gun control laws being initiated and followed; being guided by a narcissistic president who never intended to help make life more tolerable for anyone other than himself; not being able to express their true selves due to lack of understanding and blatant discrimination; having to leave childhood behind at a very early age, and dealing with the consequences of a world-wide pandemic with seemingly no end in sight!

Surviving a few storms in life will help to make us stronger. Managing the heartaches witnessed by many young people today is equivalent to them surviving a raging hurricane every single day, for life. I pray they emerge stronger from all of their suffering and that they help to make brave new decisions and laws that will improve everyone’s life in the years to come. Lesson learned: Be mindful of the gathering of the innocent wronged. Their diligence will strike fear in the savage heart.

Be safe. Stay healthy. Wear a mask in public. Hug your children, daily.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

WRITING THE WAVE FORWARD ON A FIELD OF LOVE

A series of essays....

PASSING THROUGH THE EVERGREEN CANOPY THAT GENTLY FRAMES
AND SEPARATES THE FIELD FROM THE FENNVILLE CEMETERY

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

While I was speaking with my sister, not blood related, rather heart and soul infused, during our weekly walk together, I mentioned how my posts (essays) published each Thursday tend to sink back into the dark hallways of Washington D.C. and the acute negativity of the current administration. This subject matter used to be among my ‘go to’ topics when I was at a loss for other ideas. It is now, as for many of us, the foremost topic of conversation and concern. So, from various angles, I have broached this subject almost every week. I attribute some of this to my year of studies at Indiana University South Bend (IUSB) and the journalism classes I had taken while there.

After transferring to Michigan State University my sophomore year, my preferred style of writing slid into the prose category and was occasionally accompanied by a serious dollop of my love of photography which often served to compliment my stories.

Writing poetry was my original love and my first published piece happened while in high school when the local newspaper printed my poem about the ‘meaning of time’ I’d written for English class. It helped to clarify for me that I was headed in the right direction.             

Having moved to Orlando, Florida in 1997 to follow my husband and his employment in the construction world, I wrote several pieces for the Orlando Sentinel that were published in the travel section. I continued to work on a fiction novel that began as my third child but was already morphing into adolescence, a teenager, if not young adulthood, by this time. Once again, I contemplate the subject of ‘time.’  It always has a way of pushing, pushing forward whether you want it to or not.

In September of 2013 I began writing my current Blog, Moving On...2020, which ceremoniously (with a few clicks on my iPad keys) changes to accommodate each passing year. I am now in my seventh year and Moving On...2020, originally a travel blog, currently pulls so much more from my inner sanctum and allows me to go on wild excursions between the dark depths of my being to posting a poem or two that lovingly hover around my heart and soul.

Following along my journey which includes my writing, travel, and photography, it was always in the stars that we would return to Michigan one day. In August of 2018, we did just that and settled in a pretty little house in Kalamazoo. Constant renovation seems to be the current theme of our lives at this point. It keeps us active and looking forward to what awaits us around each corner.

When I heard the story about John Van Voorhees and Joan Donaldson of Pleasant Hill Organic Blueberry Farm in Fennville, Michigan, and saw how so many people were making pilgrimages there recently, I had to follow my journalistic nose, camera in hand, and check this story out for myself.

Honoring their son, Mateo Donaldson, who had completed a tour of duty in Afghanistan, this loving, hardworking couple chose a four-acre field on their farm and filled it to the brim with dramatic blue cornflowers, rich shades of red and pink poppies, and dainty white daisies that tend to dance at the feet of their taller blooming counterparts. 

Sadly, after Mateo returned home he suffered from PTSD and, eventually, took his own life...

Mateo and his brother had been the dedicated bee keepers on this quaint yet flourishing organic farm since their high school days, and to remember their son they decided to feed the pollinators by planting bee and butterfly friendly plants of red, white, and blue.

FENNVILLE CEMETERY WITH
VIEW OF POPPY FIELD IN THE DISTANCE

MATEO’S GRAVESITE

Mateo is buried in the Fennville Cemetery and Is just two-hundred feet away from this stunning memorial field on the Pleasant Hill Blueberry Farm next door. I’m almost certain he sneaks a peak at the patriotic waves of flowering color that his parents lovingly share with us each season and smiles down on everyone who has found solace and comfort through their unselfish efforts. 

Besides the natural beauty of this enormous project, I immediately experienced inner peace, extreme joy, and comforting hope upon entering through the evergreen canopy that gently frames and separates the field from the cemetery. The first glimpse was such a ‘mindfulness’ moment for me where nothing else existed but this sprawling carpet of love that seemed to stretch out to the horizon. 

HELPING TO FEED THE POLLINATORS

And then I began swaying with the brightly colored flowers as the breeze touched my face, my hair. Its soft, gentle notes created an ethereal rhythm and melody that complimented our dance that felt almost too perfect for this imperfect world we live in; so heavenly and spiritual compared to everything that is happening within our socially deprived pandemic routines.

That’s when the camera was unsheathed and everything impossible became possible in the eye of the lens. Snapping away, I was only inches from the bee drinking its cornflower fill, trying hard to find the perfect poppy to shoot in portrait mode when each poppy was born perfect, and drifting along the designated path sandwiched between the blue sky and heaven on earth!

I want to thank John and Joan for so many things! Thank you for providing organic farming to the public for over forty years; thank you for loving your son with all of your heart; thank you for sharing that love with those of us who feel so nurtured by it; thank you for helping to comfort other soldiers living with PTSD who are trying to find their own inner peace, and thank you for giving the bees and butterflies a home, even temporarily, to buzz and drink and flit through the air like earthbound fairies protecting their domain.

I am sharing with you, my readers, some of the many photos taken at the Pleasant Hill Blueberry Farm this week. I hope they provide you with as much joy by seeing them as I felt while taking them. Life can be such a beautiful adventure; a marvelous journey!

Stay safe and stay healthy. Please wear a mask while out in public.

NATURE’S OWN FIREWORKS!
AN EXPLOSION OF RED, WHITE, & BLUE...
HAVE A SAFE AND HAPPY 4TH OF JULY.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

All Photos Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

FINDING ONE’S VOICE IN 2020

A series of essays....

CITY OF BALTIMORE IS BEING PRAISED FOR PEACEFUL PROTESTS

COURTESY OF WBFF



....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I believe that one of the most difficult things to achieve as an adult is the act of finding your voice within this world, especially when so many others are attempting to drown out your voice with their own. 

To find one’s voice may be discovering your own distinctive style or vision of artistic expression. Expressing yourself within written words that can be enjoyed and appreciated by others may mean that you have found your voice as a writer. The joy of capturing selective moments in life by understanding the importance of light, reflection, angles, and shadows is taking the time to find your voice by perfecting the optimum use of a camera lens via photography. Many budding musical artists, writers attempt to find their voices by flocking to Nashville in the hope of redefining their lives and providing themselves with an inspirational key to uncovering personal music potential.

Let’s say that a shocking or frightening experience has shaken you to the core and it may take time for you to regain the ability to speak, find your voice, once again. 

Losing my voice during public recitation or speaking, even within smaller groups, because of extreme nervousness, will always plague me to a certain degree; at least until I feel more confident and comfortable within a given situation. You would think that at my age I would have outgrown this common fear years ago. Unfortunately, I have not. Maybe it’s my way of keeping myself on my toes, however, it can become quite infuriating at times.

This past Tuesday, yet another primary election day, more and more people were fighting to retain their voices by overpowering the blatant attempts of voter suppression that funneled voters through reduced numbers of polling places and locked the doors right at 6:00 o’clock. Pounding on the glass windows and doors, Kentucky voters were granted an additional half hour extension by a judge due to the pleas made by Charles Booker and Amy McGrath, the two Democratic Senatorial primary candidates.

Not only are voters working on finding their voices in a crazy, unlawful attempt at shutting down their Constitutional right to vote, but the candidates themselves are exercising a strong youthful attempt at finding their own voices within a sea of cheap Twitter endorsements. Madison Cawthorn, a 24-year-old (turning 25 in August) political newcomer, defeated Lynda Bennett, a realtor and President Trump's endorsed candidate, in the North Carolina GOP congressional primary for the seat vacated by the President's chief of staff, Mark Meadows. 

If elected in November, Cawthorn would become the youngest member in Congress, a title currently held by Democratic Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, now 30-years-old, who won on Tuesday and looks set to get some new progressive backup in New York’s congressional delegation next year. Youthful energy and ideas are flowing into Washington D.C. with each election, hopefully eradicating, or at least staunching, old ideas and bringing in new voices for bi-partisan collaboration in the future.

It’s time to talk Black Lives Matter, BLM, and what the importance of this movement means to all of us now that the White choke-hold on Black lives has reached a new level of notoriety and the Black communities are finding their voices in mass numbers. The work of deep-seated, sustainable change remains the hardest work there is. Systemic racism for centuries has, indeed, left an indelible mark on our society. I deeply believe that we must make the best of this opportunity, afforded us by the unabashed killing of a black man, to find our voices and fight for the rights of people of all races, colors, and with the ideals brought forth by the birth of this nation. 

We are moving forward and turning our baby steps into giant ones as more people are working together and marching peacefully forward in a joint, intellectual effort towards opening huge cracks in the wall that surrounds Blacks and the history of slavery in this country. For way too many people...it can be eye opening. Unfortunately, history textbooks are diluted and weak when it comes to depicting an accurate history of minority groups that have suffered the loss of identity and land, respect and life, along with their inalienable rights at the hands of our (their) own government.

Are we looking at a new era of progress? Or, will we be disappointed by the lack of empathy for others, once again? No one knows for sure. However, this time around feels different to me; more substantial, calculated, and hopeful with each peaceful protest march in so many cities and small towns across the country and with each verbal dispute against brute police force and acts of brutality, change is in the air. 

People are finding their own voice in 2020. We’re not hiding behind the shortcomings of our politicians or bypassing important opportunities to speak our hearts and minds. The movement to change what is wrong and make it right has definitely begun and I, for one, am looking forward to it with all the excitement and energy I can muster.

Please stay safe. Stay healthy. Wear your mask in public. Recognize the truth.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

A SENSE OF EQUALITY BETWEEN ALL LIVING THINGS

A series of essays....

LITTLE MAMA WITH HER HUNGRY CHICKS
HAPPY IN THEIR LOFTY HOME

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I awoke this morning to the sound of feathered wings lightly slapping on the outside of the house, about two feet up from where I lay my head down on the pillow each night. Not that the tapping was the cause for my early retreat from slumber; not at all. Actually, the gentleness of the sound was rather soothing and would surely put one to sleep in the first place. It was because I knew precisely what the sound was and how precious and meaningful it is in the grand scope and pattern of the continuation of life.

Last spring we observed a mother Robin making her home in the crook of our downspout at the corner of the living room picture window. What a mighty and persistent builder she was as she gathered materials from far and near to shape a nest worthy of a high ranking on an Architectural Digest list.

The entire time she created the magnificent structure that would eventually be used to hold her eggs during incubation until her tiny hatchlings were fledged, her dark eyes, circled by a broken white eye-ring, watched us with intense suspicion. After all, not every human or human’s structure is worthy of hosting such important guests! 

PROVENÇAL DREAMING

I always enjoyed my early routine of weeding the lavender garden that lives just below our Robin’s unique perch. The lavender scented morning air would create delicate layers of Provençal dreaming. The lingering fragrance may be what has helped draw the Robins back for another springtime venture at Chez Hughes! Anyway, my intense observation of her daily routine so near to me each day encouraged us to create a close bond. The secure sharing of maternal emotion surely brought us together as her fear of me gradually dissipated during the passing of time.

Initially, if she were in her nest working or, later, protecting her eggs, and we’d enter the front door, closing it behind us, she would swiftly fly away and lurk in the bushes around the corner until she felt all was clear and safe, once again. Soon, we were able to go in and out of the door without our lady Robin being fussed or distressed, even after her nest was filled with chirping, open-beaked offspring. 

MY FAVORITE READING SPOT

By the time her precious eggs had hatched and she was scrounging the side yard for food to feed her chicks, the friendship between us had grown tight and unbreakable. Her pecking and bobbing from several yards away soon turned into a matter of inches as she pranced her way over to the red bench that was positioned under the Japanese Red Maple tree and where I would sit and read in the dappled shade each afternoon. 

We would stare eye-to-eye for extended moments, silently speaking with one another under the graceful and elegant, reddish-purple leaves of this hardy little tree. “Has your busy day been productive, Little Mama? Hope everything is going well for your family and there’s enough to eat for everyone!” 

FORAGING FOR FOOD

SEEING EYE-TO-EYE AND COMMUNICATING
FACE-TO-FACE WITH ONE ANOTHER

In time, the spell was broken and Little Mama would retreat and continue to forage for insects and worms in order to feed her brood now chirping in the nest built high above such dangers as domestic cats, snakes, squirrels, and other birds. With any luck, the simple presence of human beings should be helpful in keeping many predators away from her chicks until the fledglings were able to fly short distances away from the cozy nest. “You have earned my trust. I am grateful for your company if it means making my babies safer. Keep weeding the lavender!” At least, that’s what I believe her side of our conversation would have been like.

When I didn’t see a Little Mama utilizing the sanctuary of our small accommodation above the downspout this season, it made me wonder why. Had we somehow failed in our duty as protector and confidant to her and other Robins choosing to share this lofty spot and willing to nest within human habitat?

Not until the mild slapping of Robin’s wings against the opposite corner of the front of the house this morning did I realize that a Little Mama had decided to move in down the block; into a different neighborhood but in the same part of town. 

I didn’t have to go check if my early morning theory was correct or not because I instinctively knew and understood what was happening on the other side of our bedroom wall. Despite COVID-19, isolation, the insanity in Washington D.C., the lack of being able to freely visit family and friends in person, the weight gain due to isolation, and every other reason we may have to be stressed-out and justifiably concerned, we are hosting important residents at our home again!

When the circle of life, or nature’s way of taking and giving back life to the earth, is broken, we lose the notion of totality, original perfection, eternity, and timelessness. The unbroken circle symbolizes the universe being sacred and devine and represents infinite nature of energy. If something dies, it gives new life to another. Our little feathered friend, or one of her offspring, has returned to us. This Little Mama will continue the important lesson of the continuity of life for the next generation to be able to understand how we are all connected and, no matter how big or small the circle is, it ends in the exact same way for all living things!

Stay safe. Stay healthy.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

REBIRTH: A PROCESS OF HEALING AND GROWTH

A series of essays....

“LIKE MIST ROLLING INTO A DREAM...“
MAGGIE VALLEY, NORTH CAROLINA

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

“How can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me?” —Leonard Cohen

Like mist rolling into a dream that gently wraps all thoughts, and each perspective within its opaque wisdom, life proceeds on a daily basis as we take baby steps along this abstract journey into the unknown. We struggle to stand, to walk, and to communicate with others while observIng and listenIng to their personal creation of the dance of life with each calculated breath that escapes their ruby-red lips.

We are infants morphing into our mature selves with so much exotic pain and exquisite joy accompanying our movements that we’ve been known to cry to the heavens either in shock or ecstasy at any given moment. During quieter days, we curl into ourselves and strategically fail to ask the question, “Why?” So deeply afraid of the answer, but with genuine appreciation for the minute respite, we know the realities of our yesterdays will ambush us once again, tomorrow.

All too swiftly, we become the adult form of our beautiful selves carrying the trappings of adulthood upon our shoulders like our Father once carried us, high above the snakes that slithered around his feet…making us feel tall and momentarily secure. Sadly, he let us down from that lofty place...in so many ways. Standing on our own, survival becomes imperative as we hopscotch our way between the serpents and manage incredible bites of sustenance in the form of hard work and play, coupled by profound moments of sweet, enduring love. Lovers, spouse, children, grandchildren line-up to create this undeniable bond of such magnitude and strength, we find ourselves completely blown away by its power!  

We become survivors. Like a flash of lightning in the evening sky, the electricity flows through our earthly bodies with such creative power that we, in turn, charge the world around us and continue the ebb and flow of eternal life. Alternately, the responsibility and power we hold within us becomes incalculable.

As powerful as life is, it can also be as precious and fragile as our newborn selves. We are dependent, to a certain degree, upon the circumstances surrounding us. When mishandled, not respected, either by ourselves or others, life can become a living hell; sucking the existence from within the soft shell of protection we cling to, our hopes, dreams, ideals evaporate in the foggy mist and our bodies are flung along the sandy beach like discarded seashells, unprotected from the mighty tide rolling in. 

“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” —Leonard Cohen

We begin to understand how there is safety and progress in numbers; in like minds with ideals of equality swirling within our souls, searching for a better world for all. We are marching soldiers holding placards filled with symbols of justice and hope above our heads, for all to see and attempt to relate to. Our time here on earth together is fleeting and to pass hatred down from generation to generation is one of the most unscrupulous acts of negligence that should and must be eradicated in our lifetime. Heed the warnings, protest peacefully, and do not cease until the healing process begins to sweep away the loathing of others, the world over.

No longer rookies in this game of life, our baby steps have taken on the grand strides of strong, intelligent adults responsible for change, capable of healing, and striving for the growth and application of mindfulness. We are the grown-ups in the room now. May we always be responsible for our actions. The entire world is watching us.

“Act the way you’d like to be and soon you’ll be the way you act.” —Leonard Cohen

LEONARD COHEN: SINGER, SONGWRITER,
POET AND NOVELIST

Remain safe. Stay healthy.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

WHY WE CAN’T WAIT: FIST SALUTES AND A MILLION TEARS

A series of essays....

THE RAISED FIST IS A SYMBOL OF SOLIDARITY AND SUPPORT AND
USED AS A SALUTE TO EXPRESS UNITY, STRENGTH, DEFIANCE, OR RESISTANCE.

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

“Three hundred years of humiliation, abuse, and deprivation cannot be expected to find voice in a whisper.”  —Martin Luther King, Jr.

An excerpt from his 1963 book entitled, ‘Why We Can’t Wait.‘

Everyday is a crisis within the current presidency. And, like small children awaiting the ultimate joy of Christmas morning, we are tucked into bed each night with the wonder of what we’ll have to face next when the morning’s light awakens us to another day, another challenge. In the meantime, we understand that our prospective joy will be measured this November by the outcome of one of the most important elections this country has held (one we will have to fight for) in a very long time.

It’s been one hell of a past ten days for all of us. A broad mixture of emotions are running through me down into my very soul: fear, disgust, mild depression, the loss of innocence, and anger all swirl within my core and continue to haunt my thoughts, my entire being. My skin is being plagued by itchy hives that were first thought to be bug bites. I know better now. I’m not going to lie or sugarcoat it: I am frightened out of my wits!

We had been trying so hard and with all the best intentions to do something right for several months now with wearing our masks, social distancing, isolation...only to be sabotaged by four men in uniform. A choke hold lasting almost nine minutes but reopening a world of hate and denial that’s been going on for hundreds of years. My gut reaction upon seeing the video of George Floyd’s murder for the first time was, “This man has just been lynched in public right on the streets of Minneapolis!” Four men in blue uniforms effectively placed a noose around George Floyd’s neck in broad daylight and took his breath away forever.

“I can’t breathe.”

— George Floyd as his life was passing away 

What does this mean for the rest of us? Are nationwide protests part of the answer? Yes! We can’t wait or place denial in our path any longer. Peaceful demonstrations allow us to be heard in large numbers and in solidarity. This is very important right now, as is throwing down the gauntlet and openly challenging an administration who has consistently bolstered white supremacy, destroyed the written rules meant to protect us, and strongly believes in dictatorship over democracy.

The challenges we are facing are enormous. Most of us don’t have the power of the U.S. military force under our thumbs (thank goodness) to apply towards those with whom we disagree or want to hold in line via brute force. Our alternative is to continue to make our voices heard loud and clear, never giving up, and always keeping our faith in the system. Our ultimate goal of pushing back against the evil that is residing within the hearts of so many is predicated on the belief in good people. Good people, including ourselves, who must prevail over the hatred that is chewing us up inside and relegating the grave health issues of a pandemic we face together on the back burner instead of in the forefront as they should be. Yet another diversionary tactic, among many, used by this administration.

While a black man is being suffocated in the streets in broad daylight, fires burn within cities set by opportunists bent on stirring-up the cauldron of hatred, and innocent people are tear-gassed in order to clear a path of safety for one of the most hate-filled people walking today, it would be appropriate to ask ourselves, “Where is hope these days?” Hope is with all of us, my friends, sitting right there between faith and charity.  Faith, Hope, and Charity (Love), are the Theological Virtues as defined by Saint Paul who has placed Love as the greatest of them all. There shines hope, ever present between our faith in and love for mankind. Hope can be found in our pragmatic youth and future leaders. We must believe in the power of these virtues and keep them active inside of us because they are our ticket to freedom and a better life.

Lightning makes no sound until it strikes.” 

― Martin Luther King Jr., Why We Can't Wait

Just as I believe that the coronavirus represents the transparent display of reaching out to the world in order to recognize and, hopefully, repair many of the faults perpetrated by mankind throughout our history, I believe that weak, hateful people like Donald Trump will always exist. They exist to remind us of what could and will happen if we deny having faith, hope, and love in our lives. He has already been entered into the annals of history alongside the most evil people and events ever witnessed by humankind throughout the course of time itself and has earned this status a hundred times over, at least.

Taking the words from many placards displayed across the television screen within the past several days, “Rest in power, George Floyd,” your name, your purpose, and your message will not be forgotten. Rest in power because the sacrifice of your life and the power of your death is what will carry us through, by the most amicable means possible, and aid us in acquiring the true peace we are lookin for.

It is time for all good women and men to come to the aid of their country. We can’t wait and risk running out of options. We are encouraged to participate in the process. Keep working as hard as possible on it. VOTE. Vote in November no matter what obstacles are thrown in our way. Keep working to make good things happen. Respect one another even if your beliefs in the process don’t always line-up. Nothing worthwhile is obtained easily because there will always be someone or something impeding our progress. If that’s the case, work even harder.

“No Justice, No Peace.”

— Chant of protesters around the world

May all of us take good care of ourselves and strive to remain healthy. The countdown to November 3rd is our reminder that faith, hope, and charity will gracefully guide our way into a stronger, better future. We can’t afford to wait until all hope is lost and there is no turning back. All the world is watching us.

Rest in power, George Floyd. Rest assured that your death was not in vain.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved