Hello Friends! It’s Wednesday and the state of the world is, frankly, depressing. I am especially distressed about the war in Gaza. The killing and destruction are inhumane. We must find a way to stop the war and build peace in the whole region.
Exercising our gratitude muscles and practicing empathy and lovingkindness are critical right now. The truth is, even when we are bombarded by bad news, there still is a lot of light and love in the world, in our everyday lives. And we can choose to live in a way that adds to that ocean of light and love.
Remembering Mom
When I think of love and light, I think of my mom, Joan Cannon Tweit, because today would be her 93rd birthday. Her light dimmed in her last few years as she struggled with Alzheimer’s disease, but her big heart and warm smile live on.
Mom grew up in Berkeley, California, during the Depression and World War II. She remembered handing lunch sacks of food to “hoboes”—unemployed drifters—at the kitchen door of her childhood home on Oxford Street, and walking to a friend’s house after Pearl Harbor and finding the house empty and the family gone, “relocated” to a prison camp for Japanese descendants. Mom never saw that friend again.
When I imagine those years during an economic depression so bad that in 1933, a quarter of the nation’s working people were unemployed, plus the terrifying rise of the Nazi movement and the death camps for Jews and others in Germany, followed by World War II and the Japanese relocation camps, my mind boggles. I am astonished that Mom grew into a sunny, optimistic person.
Those times also remind me that things are not so bad today.
Happier Times
Mom's childhood was not all grim: In her last years, she smiled when she remembered hiking and camping in Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite National Park with her dad, beach-combing on Stinson Beach, and riding the ferry across the bay to the city to visit his office at Warner Brothers.
She sang in her grade school and high school choirs—in high school, her perfect pitch served as the choir’s tuning notes—and loved to lose herself playing classical music on the piano.
Mom went to college at UC-Berkeley, walking to campus every day, where she met my dad, a PhD student from New Jersey. Mom introduced Dad to hiking, camping and her love of nature. They courted with walks around campus, football games, hikes in Strawberry Canyon, and excursions with other friends to Carmel, Point Reyes, and the redwood groves across the Golden Gate Bridge.
After they graduated in 1952, Mom and Dad honeymooned at Mount Lassen, and then car-camped across the country to Maryland, stopping at every national park on the way, before Dad reported to the Army Chemical Corps for his service in the Korean War.
At the end of Dad’s service, they settled in Illinois. Mom missed the mountains and California, so our months-long summer trips always involved exploring at least one mountain range, swimming in at least one mountain lake and camping in wild places across the continent.
Mom always had a snack in her pocket, a warm hug, and a sparkling smile. And she passed on her love of all things nature, especially wildflowers and birdsong, hiking—and chocolate, without which no day was ever complete.
Thanks, Mom. I miss you!
Who inspires your gratitude today? And how do you honor their lives?
I am so grateful for my family 'clan'. We are all diverse in our work, politics, and religious beliefs, but are solidly behind each other when life squeezes and tips us over. We remind each other of the goodness found in most people, that beautiful things, however small, can be found every day. Most of all, we know that love, respect and civility can override anger and keep us from packing too much negative baggage around. It's never easy, or black and white, but worth knowing we're not alone, and that the crowd behind us is very solid.
Oh Susan! Such a wonderful paean to your mother. Thank you for sharing her with us. Naturally, this piece triggered memories of my own mother, who died at 52. She also grew up during the Depression and lived through the trauma of seeing her young husband sail off to the South Pacific in 1944... But through everything she remained empathetic, open-hearted and optimistic. I am deeply grateful to have had her as a role model.