Author Archives: Peter Sanford Kahrmann

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About Peter Sanford Kahrmann

Writer, disability rights advocate, civil rights advocate.

Loyalty: More Than Just Words

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Eighteenth Century English poet Alexander Pope once said, “Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.” Were Mr. Pope here to talk to, I would tell him, things have not changed. 

American writer William Arthur Ward was right when he said, “A friend is one with whom you are comfortable, to whom you are loyal, through whom you are blessed, and for whom you are grateful.”

I am right when I say real loyalty is hard to come by. Lots of people give it all kinds of flowery lip service: I’ll always be there for you or for them, you can always count on me, of course you’re my friend, your like family to me, or, you are family.  I suspect most of you who read this already know this and I suspect a good many of you have had your hearts and minds bloodied by those who are, well, full of shit.

It’s a curious thing, while many if not most demand loyalty from those in their lives, a majority of those making the demand do not, when the waters get choppy or, when it’s not about them, reciprocate. To paraphrase something Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, The true measure of a person’s strength is not where they stand in times of comfort and convenience, but where they stand in times of challenges and controversy.

Here is what I would say to you, my reader, do not give the fact loyalty is often no more than lip service so much control over you that it winds up denying you those who actually will be loyal, come hell or high water. They are the minority, but they are a minority well worth waiting for. I promise you this is so. And why do I make this promise to you, because it is so. Because when you read this blog you have a right to count on my honesty. Why? Because it is the loyal thing for me to do, and you, like all of us, deserve some loyalty in your life.

As for me, I will continue to remain open to the possibility of loyalty in people. However, if I am stabbed in the back, I will respond and, when appropriate, expose the person for being the disloyal creature they are.

Patience Can be Pointless, Respect Never Is

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It may be true that patience is a virtue, but not always. Sometimes it is pointless. Many years ago one of the people I love most in the world, Dane Arnold, told me there were times  I was too patient with people. If memory serves, I was being patient with a rather problematic apartment mate at the time who, as it turned out, deserved anything but patience. Dane was right. I’d been too patient.

I am saying nothing unique when I say we are all works in progress. For a few years now I’ve used a  kind of strategy to help me identify when I am either being too patient with someone, or allowing someone to treat me or behave towards me in a way I should reject, harshly if necessary. It might work for you too.

First, pick someone, alive or dead, who you love with all your heart and soul. Someone you know you would protect with your life if necessary. The person I picked is my father. My father was and is the greatest gift life has ever given me and even though he left the world when he was 55 and I was 15, he is with me every day.

Anyway, you choose someone you love with all your heart. Then you ask yourself if you saw this person being treated the way you are being treated what would you do? The answer is usually split-second obvious. And, if the treatment, meaning the respect that you would demand for this person is more than the respect you’ve been receiving, then you have successfully discovered an area where you are allowing yourself to be treated with less respect then you deserve. Then, make changes, disengage from the person or group if need be.

Having patience for people is a healthy thing, but not if it means you will get treated with disrespect or cruelty as a result. You can always accept an apology and re-connect with a person or group in life. In the meantime,  you have the right to disengage from someone or cut someone off who has been treating you with disrespect. Don’t you think that is what the person you used to help you in this strategy would want you to do? I do.

 

Racism in the Mist

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If you don’t think racism is playing a role in some of the opposition to  President Obama supports, dump a bucket of cold water over your head and wake the hell up. 

Here we have a Republican, Rep. Lynn Jenkins of Kansas, telling an audience, “Republicans are struggling right now to find the great white hope” and we have citizens bringing weapons to events where the president is. I’ve seen pictures of one fool with an assault weapon slung over his shoulder and God knows how many other fools with handguns strapped to their waists. Ask yourself this question, if the president was white, and armed black Americans showed up at speech by the president, what do you think would happen?

Jenkins’ staff said she was not aware that the term “great white hope” would be offensive. Spare me. She used the word white and whether you knew about the historical origins of the term great white hope, used when racists wanted to white man to defeat Jack Johnson, or not, you raised the issue of skin color. What is also troubling is reading a missive by columnist Cynthia Tucker, who happens to be black, who wrote, “I doubt she (Jenkins) meant “great white hope” literally, and she probably had no idea about its troubled origins.”  Tucker should be ashamed of herself.

By the way, Jenkins did know of the origins of the term. On  July 29th of this year she was one of those who voted to pass a resolution asking President Obama to pardon Jack Johnson. The resolution in part read, "Whereas the victory by Jack Johnson over Tommy Burns prompted a search for a White boxer who could beat Jack Johnson, a recruitment effort that was dubbed the search for the ‘great white hope.’" Confronted with this, Jenkins staff said, she hadn’t read it. 

But the latter is a moot point. Jenkins said the Republicans are struggling to find the great white hope and unless you just started walking erect in the last two seconds, you know great white hope means white person, and so, it was a racist statement. What is astonishing, and scary, is the silence of too many members of congress about her statement.

 

 

He’s a Dick

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Forgive me for unleashing a flash of elegance here but five-deferment Dick Cheney should shut the fuck up. While his name, forgive me, provides all kinds of fuel for my comedic streak, for example, the man gives men’s genitalia a bad name, the damage he has done and continues to do about all that can be true and should be true about my country is so savage he ought to be jailed. He is, in short, a war criminal and ought to be tried and, if justice is served, jailed.

Dick races around making as many appearances on Fox  News (God help us all) as he can defending torture. If you are truly loyal to what my country, the United States of America, is supposed to be about, you should be sickened by this, not to mention angered. Not only does torture not work, it violates all we are about: morally, legally and ethically. To have government sponsored torture puts us on the same level as the very enemies we are now fighting.

I suspect some hear the words Geneva Convention and think weakness. Bullshit. The term Geneva Convention refers to the agreement reached in 1949 in the aftermath of World War II. Now pause here and think or a minute. No person or group in history could exceed the brutality of  Hitler and the Nazis. Yet the world responded, not in kind, but in a joined commitment to the sanctity of human life and the decency that is present people and countries who are strong in character, not cowardly murdering little wimps like Dick.

Here is an excerpt from the 1949 accord signed, by the way, by 194 countries.

“Protected persons are entitled, in all circumstances, to respect for their persons, their honor, their family rights, their religious convictions and practices, and their manners and customs. They shall at all times be humanely treated, and shall be protected especially against all acts of violence or threats thereof and against insults and public curiosity. Women shall be especially protected against any attack on their honor, in particular against rape, enforced prostitution, or any form of indecent assault. Without prejudice to the provisions relating to their state of health, age and sex, all protected persons shall be treated with the same consideration by the Party to the conflict in whose power they are, without any adverse distinction based, in particular, on race, religion or political opinion. However, the Parties to the conflict may take such measures of control and security in regard to protected persons as may be necessary as a result of the war.”

Disagreeing with what you just read is abhorrent to all that America stands for, so, rather than being a Dick like the five-deferment coward, you might want to read the passage again and reconsider.

The Gift of Reading

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Somewhere, damned if I know where given that on some fronts I have the organizational skills of a tree stump, I have a shirt that reads, So Many Books, So Little Time. So true.

Frankly, I can’t and don’t want to imagine life without books. I am utterly baffled by those who don’t read books. No doubt there are joys they have found in life that are foreign to me, or joys that I simply don’t understand. Car races for one. Millions get enormous joy from them so I am glad they are there; I like seeing people happy. But when I try to watch them, the cars going round and round  again and again and again and again…all I can do is shrug and think, Well, at least they won’t get lost.

When I am, as I like to say, without book, meaning I don’t have a book I’m reading in life (a rare thing), I really am like a fish out of water. My life is out of alignment. Hell, I’m out of alignment. On edge and physically uncomfortable throughout the day, I am swept up in a kind of anxiousness. When, finally, I find a book that I can develop a relationship with,  an enormous sense of relief sweeps over me.  Much the same kind of relief, my dopey mind imagines, that someone lost at sea feels when they finally reach the safety of land.

Reading has been my refuge for many, many years. When I was homeless as a teen, I would go into drugstores or five and dimes and steal a paperback off one of those wire racks that always screech when you turn them. This way, alone at night, or fighting for warmth or dealing with hunger, tucked away in a basement or abandoned building somewhere, I had a world other than my own I could visit.

It was my father who gave me the whole wide world of books, the never-ending always-present adventure of reading. He was in his room one day working at his desk. Behind him was a ceiling to floor bookshelf filled with books. I think a wall full of books is visually more beautiful than any painting I’ve ever seen.   “I’m not a reader like you and Mommy,” I announced.

He set his pencil down, leaned back in is chair, gently smiled, and said, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, every time I try and read one of these books I can’t finish them.”

And then he said the most remarkable thing. “What makes you think you have to finish them?”

I was floored. “Aren’t you supposed to finish them?”

“No. You’re thinking school assignment. We’re talking about reading. Let me ask you something, don’t you think the author has some responsibility to keep you interested?”

“Sure.”

“Okay then, here’s what you do,” he gestured at the books behind him. “Pick ten books that perk your interest and read them until you lose interest. Don’t look at page numbers and don’t worry about finishing them. One day you’ll look up and you’ll have finished a book.”

I was free! The world of books was mine! I grabbed ten books, even some I wasn’t sure I was interested in but wanted to see what was inside them anyway, and brought them to my room. To this day, if I lose interest in a book I put it back on the shelf and move on.

By the way, the first book I finished only weeks after my father’s advice was a novel called The Folded Leaf  by William Maxwell. It’s a great book. And there’s lots more.