Let’s start right here with some words from the online edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica: Race is socially constructed, not biologically natural. The biogenetic notion of race—the idea that the human species is divided into distinct groups on the basis of inherited physical and behavioral differences—was finally refuted by genetic studies in the late 20th century. Social scientists, historians, and other scholars now agree that the notion of race is a social construction

I am relatively certain that like me, you have been inundated with stories and snippets and soundbites and memes from social media, electronic media, hard copy media, and most of what you read, hear or watch is from sources that simply align with what you already believe. One of the greatest gifts I was given back in Cardinal Spellman HS back from 1966-1970 was to look at all sides. Back then, of course, in the “stone age”, there was not internet, we had phones with long cords to allow us to go into another room if we wanted to “hide” from our parents or someone else, we “blocked” people by leaving that same phone off the hook and dealing with the incessant beeping for about 2 minutes until the line simply went dead. Radio was limited to what you could bring in over the airwaves, TV was limited to the three major stations ABC, NBC, CBS whatever public station you could get on your antenna, and a few smaller local stations, for me in the Bronx, it was WPIX (channel 11) WOR (channel 9) and WNEW (channel 5). They were mostly sports (11 = Yankee games, 9=Met games and very early wrestling on Saturday night) and old movies and late night talk shows (Joe Pine, one of the first alt-right was one I remember well).

This is to say that you got your news from one of the major 3 for 30 minutes around dinner and again for 30 minutes around 11 pm. They reported the facts without bluster and without slant. Your other option was printed newspapers. In the Bronx growing up it was the NYDaily News, NYTimes, The Journal-American in the morning and the NYPost in the afternoon. I enjoyed reading them all (the Journal-American stopped in 1966 just as I was headed off to HS). I’d pick them up each day at a green newstand across the street from my apt building and right at the entry to the first stop (or last depending upon which way you were going) on the D-Train subway line. While in elementary school I’d go really early and try to read all the sports pieces prior to walking up the block, when I went to HS I’d get the News and Times and read the News on the bus (it was easier to hold) than the Times which I always held off on till I got to school so I could lay it out on my desk. When I became a subway commuter for two year in 1975, I learned the art of the Times fold up so I could read while standing or sitting.

This is all to say that news was something to take in, to think about, to read from all sides, to take the short pieces on the TV or radio news and investigate further. It was about dissecting the pieces for their veracity and not simply marching forth on ideology (there was very little ideology then it was much easier to analyze and compare stories on the various topics and to know what was true). The gift of forming your own opinions based on the facts fostered and incubated at Spellman was truly magical. While it was a Catholic school both the lay faculty and religious faculty encouraged us to read, listen and defend opinions even if they differed from those put forth by them It was also a time where it was ok for them to give their opinions and not have to hide behind “trigger warnings” or fear simply because they were simultaneously encouraging all of us to speak up and contradict them if we could support our positions. There was no “grooming” nothing was banned (yes, even in a catholic school), we were given a summer reading list with some mandatory books, some suggested books and then the opportunity to pick whatever else we wanted to read as long as we were prepared to report on them upon returning to school in the fall. There were faculty who were extremely vocal on the Vietnam war issues on both sides. No one was “injured” by it, and while families may have disagreed with what some of us brought to the table based upon those in school discussions (my dad was a WW2 Navy Vet and was a “my country right or wrong” guy) there were no complaints to the school. Discussions were livelier at home because of it and both sides had the opportunity to state their case without name calling, without disparaging remarks even if sometimes it did end up with a little louder conclusion.

All of this is simply a lead in to my main thought while swimming this morning. Why are many in our nation so worried about learning about what really happened in the past? Let’s face the facts, history is written by “the victors”, what is put forth is usually tinted through the lens of who is writing it, for the most part in our nation, the white male patriarchy, and I say that as a member of that “club”, at least the white male part. Having used the intellectual curiosity gifts given to me over 50 years ago at Cardinal Spellman HS I have always found that most historical stories we are told or that we hear about require a deeper dive. Yes, we are taught that slavery existed (and in some places are taught that it was an economic foundation of part of the nation), but why does that “lesson” not really include, at least at the HS level, the true cruelty of what slavery created and, frankly, continues in sorts to this very day? Why is it not standard practice to teach that women were treated as possessions for so long (and again, in many places it continues to this very day). Here is just one example: It was not until 1974 with the passage of the Equal Credit Opportunity Act that women were allowed to open bank accounts, apply for credit and commit to a mortgage without needing a male co-signer. Why is this significant? Put yourself in the position of a woman in a bad marriage or relationship. She was not allowed to have her own account or credit without “say so” from her husband/partner, so even if she was working, she could not have any money of her own if she didn’t have the ok (do you really think that someone engaged in coercive control was going to allow that to his “possession” or “property”?) so how could she leave, where could she go, how could she pay for an attorney, even if she could find one that would deal with her?

And lest you think that the 19th Amendment guaranteeing women the right to vote was firmly established in with ratification in 1920, South Carolina, where I currently live (that’s a whole different story) didn’t choose to add themselves to the ratification until July 1, 1969. Let that sink in folks, while women in SC did have the federally guaranteed right to vote, the SC White Male Patriarchy (and it continues to this very day) did not see fit to even add their state name to the amendment until 50 years later. Before you say “well it really doesn’t matter if they were already guaranteed” my reply would be, what kind of message does that send in small, “good old boy network” towns to the folks in power as it pertains to how it’s still ok to remember that women, after all, are still property (and remember that even with the 1969 ratification in SC, it was still 5 years away from women being able to open a bank account or get credit on their own).

Living as I do now, in the Lowcountry, southern cooking is a big deal and most of the best dishes were developed by slaves (it sure wasn’t the WMPatriarchy or their wives doing the cooking and cleaning. Since food has always been universal, why did it take until I was 70 to actually learn about the Gullah culture and their impact on the food scene? We sure don’t learn about that back in the Bronx.

I was lucky growing up in the Bronx, most of the folks who lived in the neighborhood had many grandparents who were immigrants from Italy, Ireland, Scotland, Germany, Puerto Rico, Eastern Europe, etc. There were more than a few Holocaust survivors, sometimes with the tattoos visible in the heat of the summer, yet even back at CSHS, what we were taught about that event was brushed over and for the most part sanitized. It was only while talking to some of my friends in the neighborhood about their families that gave me the interest to learn more about it and take an interest in making sure, to the extent that I can, that it never happen again. It was stories from my own folks about the NINA signs (No Irish Need Apply) and the WOPS or Garlic Eaters that had me look further into the fact that immigration even then, was a flashpoint, that the WASPs were, even then, afraid of what might be taken from them (never acknowledging at any time that “OUR CHRISTIAN NATION” was, itself, stolen from the people living here well before those arrived here, ironically, because they were fleeing kings, dictators and controls on their beliefs. They were also willing to do the work that many were not willing to do, or they brought skills that were so much better than what were here that they quickly established themselves as “necessary”.

Why is there so much fear about people looking to arrive to make a better life for their families? When was the last time your gardener, or the person you happily hire to clean your home, or pick your grapes, or your produce, was threatening your job, or the opportunity for your children to have a better situation than you have? Yes, we cannot simply throw open the doors for anyone, and yes, there will be those who slip through the cracks, but in the end, Freedom comes with both responsibility AND empathy. For those (as my father did) who exclaim “we are in America, we speak english” Why, in a global era, do we have the “one true language”? Of course, had WW2 turned out differently, we might be speaking ONLY German…think on that will you?

I guess these were just the series of thoughts I had while swimming this morning. The other part of the title, prayers does not look to take a jab at those who always use this when another child dies from a bullet, but relates to the fact that this agnostic does offer prayers to the sky that we, as a nation, many of whom like to call themselves “christian”, will, sooner rather than later, actually embrace what I was taught it means to be a follower of the historical Christ. It’s not control, it’s love. It’s not denigration of others it’s elevation of others. It’s not ideology it’s empathy. In the end, it’s not what what’s different it’s the fact that we are all in this together.

Let’s close with a piece of the song that was playing on my headphones as I was swimming that started all this in motion:

When you see the Southern Cross for the first time
You understand now why you came this way
‘Cause the truth you might be running from is so small
But it’s as big as the promise
The promise of a coming day