CarlaGEE.me

Probably no one was more surprised about the announcement that President Obama was being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize than perhaps the President himself. He even admitted so having been awoken at 6:00 AM to receive the news which had been announced hours earlier half way around the world.

It’s not surprising, however, that as soon as the news from Sweden arrived in the States, folks began posting, tweeting and blogging on the matter. Social media is like that. It provides anyone with an opinion, internet access and at least a third grade education the many platforms to instantaneously and simultaneously share it without thought or care to how it might be received.

Thus on the morning of Oct, 9, 2009, opposing factions, lines drawn between supporters and haters of Obama, began posting expressions of disdain and disbelief along side those of pride and honor. Initial comments launched into the web-o-sphere seemed to have a flavor of thought to them as if they had been slow getting out of the gate. Once affirmed or lauded as truth, however, a rapid exchange would ensue growing in both intensity and tone. Soon thereafter someone with an opposing opinion would toss a little fuel of disagreement to the flame and a bit of grandstanding was ignited. I sat at my computer and imagined mini and large scale political arguments bursting into flames all over the internet that day. I was almost pulled into one when I retweeted a friend’s post.

After reading what I felt were more than enough slams against Obama for the prize, I saw a Tweet that spoke my personal sentiment, “‘It is becoming increasingly clear that the ‘extreme right’ hates Obama more than they love America.” I retweeted it with a personal addition, “[agreed]” and caught some attention. Apparently one of my polite Social Media Club acquaintances took offense, “There is no Extreme Right there are only Democrats and Socialist[s] and then those who want America to remain the home of the Free” followed by “We are all Americans except some of you are bad Americans and the rest are Conservative.” OUCH!

I was uncomfortable. I don’t like confrontation. Open, frank, mutually respectful face-to-face dialogue, I relish – even in the midst of disagreement. Never do I require that one agree with me only that they understand my perspective. But it is hard to learn much of anyone’s perspective within a 140 character statement.

I wanted to back peddle wishing to return to exchanges about the weather, lunch and upcoming local events. Preferring those polite exchanges on interesting reads or famous quotes, I wondered how we could refrain from the temptation to lob the last word, one-up each other and spiral out of control. Certainly such efforts would risk setting up awkward moments at the next Social Media Club meeting or outright avoidance at group mixers. Ugh! This was not my preferred mode of communication.

Remembering my mother’s repeated admonition, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” I bit my tongue. Eject! Eject! I then saw a tweet expressing the exact same thought – literally, “*bites tongue ” I felt the smiley face was a nice touch. Just as quickly as the exchange began, came other tweets attempting to douse whatever flames still smoldered, “ I’m just a guy living in America with a bunch of other crazy Americans. C’est la vie i guess. ” followed by “that’s what make this country so great. lol ”

To that, I think we all agreed offering each other the Beattles’ invitation to just “Let it Be.”

In his “retirement”, my father is driving a school bus for the Corpus Christi Independent School District. He’s been doing so now for three years referring to himself as Captain of Starship 13, 16 or 11 (whatever bus number he’s assigned for the year). Perhaps an initial attempt to endear himself to the elementary students specifically, the Captain routine, however, has won over even the high school gang members who’ve come to acknowledge him with a soft chunk to the shoulder.

His routine includes shuttling passengers of all ages, K-12, morning and afternoon from all sides of town. The first year he drove students that had been kicked off their main campuses for a variety of infractions and sent to attend classes at the Student Learning and Guidance Center (SLGC). He hauls elementary students who believe Starship 16 is their personal playground or hormonally enraged middle and high schoolers simultaneously talking without volume control. Rival gang members, BFFs resistant to assigned seats, foul mouthed third graders and kids that remember the Captain among their holiday card giving, he knows who each and everyone is and greets them ALL by name.

The “unseen driver”, Dad learns the lives of his frequent fliers much like car pooling parents find out all the latest teen gossip. It was in his first year driving that he learned about our local ‘couch surfing’ students. Unlike those ‘surfers’ who inexpensively travel the world by staying on the couches of website registered hosts, the CCISD couch surfer is the student living off the generosity of friends or relatives who provide a place to periodically lay their head for the night. Homeless? Some. But more often they come from broken homes to which they are unable or unwilling to return.

He shared the story of one boy, Mario*, who is frequently unable to go home. His mother gives him money to leave so he’s not home at night. With it, he plies himself with food, alcohol and drugs; miraculously managing to arrive at the SLGC bus stop the next morning. Tired, stoned, disheveled but he’s still there. Somehow his mother believes this is taking care of her son; for running  the streets and/or crashing on a friend’s couch is apparently better than being at home where the risk of his step-father beating the crap out of him is far worse.

Dad isn’t driving the SLGC students this year.

One of the nicest parts of his new route includes passing every morning a parking lot where a hundred or so ducks and geese gather waiting for someone to feed them. Dad thought my boys (BigGEE & LilGEE) would like to help him and my mother feed the birds one weekend morning. So today he and my mom took the kids to visit the feathery friends.

The only experience my kiddos have at feeding animals is the inadvertent dropping of crumbs from the dinner table or the occasional trip to the back of the house to drop dry food for the dogs. Knowing that the birds in such numbers can become aggressive when feeding, Dad encouraged the boys to throw the bread away from where they stood. But BigGEE seemed hesitant. My mother encouraged him again to toss those crumbs way out there to which he replied, “I’m looking for the ones that don’t have any.”

When I heard the account, I was struck with 1) What a sweet boy! and then 2) How many of us take the time to scan the crowd of eager takers to find those who may really need a little extra help? Someone like Mario or perhaps a bus driver

Would that we were we all filled with the willingness and grace to just be on the lookout. . .

*Mario is not the real name of this student.