responsibility

It was June 19, 1953, my parent’s 7^th wedding anniversary, and we were going to celebrate. My mom made fried chicken, coleslaw, baked beans and Dad’s favorite cake, Chocolate with Chocolate Cream Frosting. Oh yes, there was one more dish, French fries, the one dish my mom would wish she had not made. You see, her anniversary gift from my older sisters was a deep fat fryer and it would lead to tragedy.

At the celebration were my parents, my 3 older sisters, me, my younger sister, my paternal grandparents, and one of my sisters’ boyfriends. Everyone was in the kitchen of our farmhouse. My grandparents were laughing with my dad, Judy, the youngest of my older sisters, was setting out the dishes, and my other older sisters were playing with my little sister. I was helping mom.

I was always mom’s little helper in the kitchen. I loved to watch and help and even at the age of 6, occasionally made simple dishes for dinner. So, when my dad asked for the catsup from the cupboard I was ‘Ruthie on the spot’ jumping up to get it. As I reached into the cupboard, I didn’t notice the deep fat fryer was sitting, just above, on the counter. I didn’t notice that the fryer cord had dropped down with the cord looping over the knob of the door. When I grabbed the doorknob I grabbed the cord as well, pulling the fryer, full of hot oil, down on top of me.

The world slowed down, I heard screams, I didn’t know if the screams were mine or my mother’s. I felt dad pick me up and carry me over to our big stone kitchen sink, he started pumping cold well water over me (we didn’t have running water yet in the kitchen). Over dad’s shoulder I saw a bright light and heard a voice speak to me. “It will be ok,” it said. As Dad tried to remove my jumper he had to stop when he saw it was pulling my skin off. So, he wrapped me in a light blanket, laid me on the couch with our dog Rex to guard me. To this day I swear sweet old Rex spoke to me telling me “I’d be Ok”.

In the early 1950’s there were no ambulances serving the farming community, so my dad and mom had to drive me into our little town of Oberlin to our 50-bed hospital themselves. I do not know how long I was in our little hospital, one or two weeks at the most, because, at some point, my mom received a call from a surgeon in Cleveland. That call saved my life.

Dr. George Meany called my parents in response to a write-up in a Cleveland paper about a little farm girl being burnt. He told my parents that he was coming to take me to St. John’s Hospital where he would take care of me. From what my mom told me he was there that night taking me, with my mom, to Cleveland, and setting my mom up in the YWCA.

I would spend two months in St. John’s leaving just in time to start school and I would go back over the next 6 months to have grafts replaced with new skin. When my parents received the hospital bill, they learned Dr. Meany had paid it in full and he never charged my parents for his services. Without Dr. Meany I would have been horribly scared and disabled. His gift was life for me, and I am eternally grateful for that gift.

That accident changed my life, my very young life, forever. In school and on the street, I experienced bullying due to the scars and was afraid to wear clothes in public that revealed too much skin. Because a sunburn would damage the skin grafts, I had to wear long sleeves and jeans even in very hot weather. But there were also positives to my life. Originally an extroverted kid, I became shy, and introverted after the accident, which led me to a world of books and learning that would guide me through my whole life. Instead of playing in the sun I sat in the shade reading everything I could get my hands on. During the summer I practically lived in our public library. During the school year I had plenty to read and study and I discovered the joys surrounding the practice of learning, study, and reading. I have carried that practice throughout my life. Always finding something new to learn.

Every June, for the last 70 years, I have remembered that horrible moment. Yet during my ruminations I always found some good associated with that year of fear and pain. I have met people who have inspired me to be courageous and fight back the fear, bullying, isolation, and discouragement that comes with being different. I learned to open my eyes and heart to those who were suffering with physical and mental disability and to offer them comfort and support. I realized my greatest gift from Dr. Meany may have been a body that moves normally, but he also gave me a gift of heart. He taught me that my talents didn’t depend on a perfect form, my talents were part of my soul’s heart, and I could offer up my gift of learning, of spirit, and love to all who needed it. Dr Meany was nothing like his name. He was one of the kindest people I would ever meet and the kindness he gave me I have tried throughout my life to pass on to others.

Being severely burnt at such a young age was traumatizing. But the accident taught me I could overcome anything if I didn’t let the fear paralyze me. Yes, there have been those times when I have been struck dumb, stopped in my tracks by fear, but only for a little while. Soon I would shake my bones and tell myself “If I could survive being burnt, I can survive this”. It always works out in the end. Maybe not the way I would like it to, but all is good just the same.

Humans all too often let accidents and tragedies stop them, they become permanent victims of their lives. Blaming others for everything going wrong. But I couldn’t do that, I wasn’t going to be a victim. Taking responsibility for your actions and your decisions, good or bad, makes us stronger, smarter, more compassionate, kinder, and justice loving. Why? Because when we are accountable for our lives then we have more within to help others who are struggling to be accountable. We become mentors of life.

I am not saying I did any of this by myself. I had help from so many people. My tribe, my community is vast and it’s one I don’t always recognize. Some people stayed in my life for years, others dropped in for just a moment and then passed on. I must admit I don’t know all my tribe because some are just shadows passing in the night. Yet all of them have given me something that helped me in one way or another. Dr. Meany was one of my tribe; my first grade teacher, Miss Worcester, was another one. The kind soul who helped me cross the street when I broke my ankle is one, and nearly all the ministers I’ve known are also on my list. In 70 years, I have had so many become members I couldn’t tell you all their names.

What I’m trying to tell you is my story is only one of many, you have yours as well. You have had accidents, tragedies, you have had joys, and sorrows but somehow you made it through, not by yourself but with the help of your tribe. In my long years I have learned to acknowledge those who saw me through some of the toughest times, and those who celebrated the best times. The month of June is my time to acknowledge my tribe of kind, patient, tolerant, and forgiving community. That is the takeaway from this sometimes-rambling essay that I would like you to learn. Recognize those who have been there in your toughest times and joyous times. People whom your life wouldn’t be what it is without those who lifted you up, chastised you, cradled you, and mentored you. Give them their dues. If not in person, then in your prayers.

Ruth Jewell, ©June 19, 2023

We stand at a crossroad. A political, and soul crossroad. I do not know which one we will take but the choices we make will be the most important ones we will ever make. I say this with caution, sadness, and with hope. I am not going to tell you how to vote or what to believe, only you can make those choices. But I am going to ask that you think hard and look deep within before you make your decisions.

There are questions you need to ask yourself that only you can answer.

What kind of world do you want to live in? I am not talking just about your neighborhood, state, or country, I mean the world.
How do you see yourself, or your children, in 50 years? Do you expect your world to be just as it is now? Because if you do you are sadly deluded.
Do you expect your children and your children’s children to have a better life than you have today? Because if you do you are sadly deluded.
If you are white do believe you will continue to be that privileged group where everything just comes to you? Well it does not happen today so why the heck do you believe it will be happening in 50 years? Are you that stupid?

Our world is changing and how we change with it will determine what this world, locally, nationally, and globally will become. Those of you who are afraid of change can fight to stop it, but it will not work, the world will change any way and you will be left behind. You see we have reached a tipping point environmentally, socially, and politically and the world is never going to be the same no matter how much you cry in your beer.

People of color, culturally different people, people with differing beliefs, the differently gendered, and most of all womxn will no longer accept the white, protestant, Western European, and male world view. We believe justice, compassion, and kindness, and political and religious freedoms are greater than hate, divisiveness, and political and religious manipulation, and domination.

The majority of people have begun to see the nonsense taught by political and religious leaders for the last three or four millennia for what it is, that one small group of people can protect us from ourselves is a lie. We who are different, who have different skin colors, different genders, and different beliefs from our white male dominators are striking out on our own. We will stand up for each other, we will protect each other, we will walk hand in hand toward a future that will leave our manipulators and dominators behind. Those of us believe in a faith that honors justice, kindness and compassion will change this world and unless you change your ways it will not go well for you. I am a follower of Jesus, the Carpenter from Nazareth, not everyone is and each culture and belief have their own stories. My stories come from Jesus and Jesus once told a parable of the rich man and a poor man. Do you, who claim to know the bible remember it? Since I doubt it let me refresh your memory.

“There was a rich man who feasted sumptuously every day. At his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table, but the rich man would give him nothing. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died, buried, and was delivered into Hades, where he was tormented with fire.

The rich man looked up into heaven and saw Lazarus sitting beside Abraham. He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, Lazarus in like manner evil things yet you failed to comfort him. Now Lazarus is comforted here, and you are in agony.

The rich man said, ‘Then, Father, I beg you to send Lazarus to my father’s house for I have five brothers let Lazarus warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ 29 Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, ‘I know Father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ Abraham replied to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’” (Luke 16:10-31)

Just as the rich man was taught the laws of Abraham, we too have been taught by the words of our own prophet Jesus and you who claim to follow this carpenter have failed to do so. Now those of us who are tired of receiving your scraps from your table are banding together and doing what we have been taught some by Jesus, some by Muhammad, some by Moses, Some by the Buddha, and there are many more. We have been taught to do justice, love kindness, walk with our God, however that may be described. We will feed the hungry, care for the poor, the imprisoned, the elderly, the young, and the stranger amongst us. Everything you have not done. We will see the divine in the eyes of each and everyone one of us no matter their gender, their beliefs, their skin color, or their culture and we will honor them. We will do everything you have not.

However, we will do one thing more. We will forgive you. But while our forgiveness is free it does not relieve you of your responsibility or accountability for the evil you have done in this world. You who have done so much to the poor, hungry, and homeless. You who have ignored the stranger and abused those who were different, female, and young will have to admit your wrongs. We will not let you go free, to travel on blithely without punishment for that too is wrong. So, like the rich man your time of abusive domination is over.

Life’s Stories

Crossroads