WELCOME TO MY NEIGHBORHOOD

As a child, I was surrounded by language that was demeaning and often ugly toward those who were different than “us”, especially if you were black, Catholic, Jewish, or gay.  By the time I was seven years old, I experienced enough to know to challenge this language, both in thought, word and deed.  

We lived in Waukegan, Illinois, and our home was located in the city where school was diverse.  I was a minority in my class.  Top this off with the fact that our home life was not the ideal and often surrounded with alcoholic chaos.  

For me, kindness and generosity, was often felt first outside my home…not from within.  So as a kid, when I would hear my parents and the adults with them, discuss people of color using derogatory terms, in my head I would be thinking, “but so-and-so is not like that, she/he is nice.”  The truth is, my experiences most always were the polar opposite of the language I was surrounded in.

So at an early age, I learned to not trust the adults in my life.  The seed was planted to not only challenge but to base my opinions on my own experiences.

This has brought great joy in my life.  By being open and accepting of differences, (even political ones), I have been blessed to make friends with very interesting and kind people.  

At my age, I have watched society grow more open and tolerant of one another.  I can remember the day when marrying outside one’s religious believes would bring condemnation from family, and often the member who dared to love outside the circle would face living outside the circle forever.  This behavior would bring about great sadness and turmoil to those involved.  

Although it is better today, than how we lived in my early life, it is obvious that we still have a long way to go by the headlines and activities I see today in states where laws are being passed that say, my religious beliefs give me a right to not treat you the same as I expect to be treated.  I don’t get it.  We live in a country that cherishes the right to practice our own faith without harassment or interference.  That government is separate from our faith and is to be allowed to govern the whole, not just the parts.  

Historically, all faiths have a history of challenge to it’s existence.  But we live in America.  We live in a country where we ALL have rights to be who we are, follow our own faith without harassment, and exist in peace.  

My own conversion to becoming a Catholic came about, not by someone trying to convert me, but by experiencing first hand from the Leuthe family of Milwaukee, the joy and binding love of a family unit, that just happened to be Catholic.  I was drawn to them all by their welcoming and outreach.  I have carried them in my heart since those days of long ago.  I have often thought, if they had been another religion I most likely would of converted to that, it was the joy of their existence that I longed for.  Making the decision to follow the Catholic faith, brought me first hand to the prejudice of such an act.  I didn’t convert because I was marrying a Catholic.  My conversion was personal.  Something my family didn’t understand.

I hold with honor, the distinction of being kicked out of my Grandmother Curnes’s funeral gathering, because I had the audacity to challenge the family support of George Wallace and his run for President under the umbrella of segregation. 

Our own existence cannot come without the acceptance of those around us, no matter who they are or what they believe.  For if I want the freedom to believe as I wish—and I do—then I must grant it to all those around me.  I have friends who are Buddhist, Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Muslim, Agnostic, black, hispanic, foreign born, American, politically Republican, Democrat, Independent, gay and straight …all people who hold a special place in my heart.  I don’t love them because we all think alike, I love them because we accept each other for who we are.  Out of these relationships come wonderful conversations that broaden my own understanding of what it means to be human.  

I was given a writing assignment once, that asked me to describe how a tossed salad was like life.  It was easy.  One vegetable in the bowl alone would be boring and dull to eat, but mixed together with an assortment of fresh and tasty vegetables, bound together by a dressing makes for a satisfying edible experience.  

I believe in us.  I believe in the U.S.  I believe that goodness will prevail.  I welcome you to my neighborhood where diversity brings a richness in life that can only be measured by how I make you feel.