by Joni Abilene
I’ve had a tough week. As far as tough goes. As far as weeks go. And I just realized it’s only Tuesday. Right. That’s not good. I’ve had a few too many days of migraines to be sane. But I have to get over it and keep my chin up.
I’m still reading The Grapes of Wrath, so that’s a nice thing to keep my mind off the headaches. It really is such a beautiful book. When Grandpa died I shed tears; he never got to squash those grapes all over his face like he talked about.
A person can’t help but see the parallels of what is happening in the book to what is happening today in real life. There’s always going to be somebody who struggles against the haves and have nots. Who tries to see reason, who tries to make things right, who puts their neck out to cross the border of human decency. That person usually gets sacrificed in the end. But the truth of what he was, or she was, remains forever. The Ghandi, The Martin Luther King, the unnamed person who stood against force; many of them. But not enough. Ever seen that picture of a monk who lights himself on fire and sits motionless in the street until, finally, he dies? It’s tragic and horrible and fantastic. You think, I could never do that. But maybe you would. Maybe we would all light ourselves on fire, in one way or the other, just to save humanity. But then, sometimes, humanity is too stupid, and too damn selfish. Truth is laid out in large letters of black against white, and yet we blindly go by pretending not to see. Should anyone stick their head out for another’s purposeful ignorance? Well, I am a fool and I probably would. But then, who knows? Maybe those old fight or flight reflexes kick in and I chicken out. It keeps me up at night. I always wonder . . . would I?
I’d better get back to the book.