Playing Fair and Being Kind

There are days when I want to lash out at the oppressive nature of someone or some group and discharge all the anger and bitterness that comes with failure and humiliation. Quite a human reaction to things that pile up and gnaw away on a daily basis. I believe that’s what is going on in our country at this moment, April 2018. The reason I don’t lash out is because I haven’t reached that point where I want to actually harm another person…yet. Can you feel what I mean?
Think of all that we need in order to maintain the life style to which we’ve grown accustomed. Whenever a condition is presented and we’ve accepted all of the requirements to incorporate that condition we are at a balance. When a change in requirements occurs then stress is raised. So many changes later and there you have people who have resources to adjust and others who have fallen behind for any number or valid reasons. Those who have fallen behind are in trouble in a major way. Unresolved problems, situations, relationships pile up and, as I opened with, stress is cumulative. Conflicts and resultant violence shows up.
These conflicts happen to everyone and the violence happens to those who have been left in harm’s way.

Violence. Let’s define that before we go any further. We usually assign the definition of violence according to our private experiences. When asked to define violence in a group setting many of us stick to the newspaper or tabloid definition because we don’t want to let on how much we really know. So in our own minds just remember the most violent thing you ever witnessed, experienced, or even applied to another. If this is too triggering just stop reading right here and go watch videos of kittens and other baby animals. Don’t try to do this.
Violence can be any action that hurts another person physically, emotionally, or spiritually. Even something as being bored in another’s presence can end up being violent, or lead to a violent act. Battery, slander, libel, assault, yelling, stealing, abuses of all kinds, lying, cheating, stealing. So many acts of violence. Having to remain with someone hateful because of financial constraints is violence. Being ignored is violence. Humiliation is violence. Being disrespected is violence leading to greater violence.
Dr. James Gilligan has been quoted as saying that people are violent in response to a humiliation that has taken away their self respect. The violence is an attempt to restore the lost self esteem.

Is it no wonder that our present culture is so fractured. There are no ways to talk to another person when they are so oppressed by what is happening here in this country. Any attempt to initiate dialog is more than likely to result in snarky responses and put-downs, insults, and general distrust.
Where am I headed with this? I really do have a message. I made contact with a friend who has become a leading member of an opposite political party. We have been polite when we meet at the supermarket but it is not like it was thirty years ago when we first met.
I saw my friend in the supermarket last week. We usually greet each other politely but stiffly. This time I told him that he was on my mind a lot in recent months and I hoped he was doing well. We exchanged a few light comments and then I suggested we meet for lunch or coffee and he became suspicious. I can’t say as I blame him. I quickly told him in a most sincere tone that it was something I needed. His expression changed to one of concern and friendship. He patted my shoulder and accepted the invitation.
This is where things stand. In my fantasy of how things will play out we will meet for a half an hour or so, exchange thoughts and ideas but stay away from politics, stay affirming in our expressions, and not put down ourselves or each other during this short period. We will stay this way and come up with ground rules or guidelines for how we will deal with each other and continue to meet on a regular basis.

I wonder where this will lead.

Peace,
G. M. Goodwin
3 April 2018

Here is a story I wrote some time ago and I saw it today in my list of short stories. I share it with you. Many will not have seen it before. I like it. I did a little editing today.

THE BEST TACKLE EVER MADE

While listening to a press conference tonight that involved the coach of the professional football team New England Patriots I keyed on a comment. The coach talked about the importance of tackling. I had never given that much thought actually since all the glorious and heroic activity centers on throwing and catching the football as well as running and dodging and skipping along to the end zone for a touchdown. Tackling. It never crossed my mind but in retrospect of course! Tackling has to be the most important part of the game of football. The point is to prevent the other team from scoring or even advancing the ball along the length of the field. The comment sent me back to Ronan Park and the most spectacular tackle I was ever involved with. Of all people, I was the tackler!

My sports life peaked when I was 6 years old. Let me explain. The neighborhood where I was raised is situated adjacent to Ronan Park in Dorchester, Massachusetts. We kids on Juliet Street spent a great deal of our play time on the ball fields. This particular time of year featured football. I was a member of a neighborhood football team. Typically the older kids would coral a bunch of younger kids to form a team because we younger kids had no idea how to organize and formalize a team of any sort. I’m talking about kids from the age of 5 up to the age of 9 or so. We barely could tie our shoes or keep our pants pulled up.

So, we little kids had a football team of sorts and we were about to play another team of younger kids from a different neighborhood. This event had been arranged by the bigger kids, kids who were much older but still preteens, adolescents in fact. I found the older kids to be quite helpful. They took time to explain the best methods of playing this contact sport. Generally speaking we had no concept of the game of football. I mean most of us had an inherent sense that we were supposed to run into each other and cause mayhem and push each other over. In my case my survival skills were pretty good so I was skilled enough to grapple with the nearest opposing player and continue to grapple until the whistle blew. Then we’d all turned to see what happened during all the grappling. We were always delighted to see the ball was in a different location and generally gratified to get a chance to rest up for the next grappling.

There were time outs when the older kids would come onto the field and give us instructions. Peter Donlan, whose brother went into the priesthood and whose sister Nancy was the apple of my eye and who became a nun, gave me instruction to “knee” my opponent on the next play. He was quite insistent. He looked at me and punctuating the air with his clenched fists he said, “George. On this next play knee him! Knee him.” I didn’t know what that meant but it didn’t matter. I just nodded my head and said “O.K.”. On the next play I grappled more aggressively. In fact during this grappling play I remembered what Peter had told me so I grasped my opponent’s knee in my two hands and picked up his leg so he had to hop around to keep from falling over. The strategy worked marvelously. I was easily kneeing my foe. My opponent was too busy trying to keep his balance that he couldn’t molest me in any way. I felt empowered by my new found skill. I was coach-able!

The other team’s coach must have seen the advantage I’d gained because a different kid, much larger than I, showed up to replace the one I’d learned to control. On the next play this new kid dove like a madman across the line at me but I dodged him cleverly. He countered by kicking me with both of his feet like a mule while he was on the ground. He kicked at me with deadly accuracy and it hurt. Ouch! This kid played a whole different style and scared me. For the next few plays I got kicked and bruised and I was no longer a threat to the other team. I was no longer enthused about this game.

Then something happened that changed my life forever. The opposing team called a play that was designed to send the ball carrier around my end of the defensive formation. The ball was hiked and Mr. Dive and Kick came at me. I dodged to my right and he was on his feet like a cat. As the ball carrier came around toward me I was fully engaged with the crazy kid with the kicking feet. He shoved me as I was dodging him and I went sprawling into the line of scrimmage. As I was falling the ball carrier collided with me. It was happening in a flash of feet and bodies. To keep from falling under all the feet that were coming toward me and that were chasing him I grabbed the ball carrier around his upper legs and held on for dear life. We all fell down and my team mates rushed to my aid. They picked me up and pounded me on the back and arms for making such a terrific tackle. The wind was knocked out of me. I could barely breathe from the collision. Few of us had pads or proper protection. All I had was a cardboard helmet with a few strips of batten padding that was tight like a beanie. Just the same I made the tackle and forever in my mind I was a star.

As the coach of The New England Patriots rattled on about the importance of tackling in football I nodded and thought how right he was. I knew first hand all about that. You tell them, Coach.

G. M. Goodwin
16 October 2015