by Gwendolyn M Plano

I’m a child of the Sixties. I know what it is like to dream big and fall hard. I remember innocence, a time when I thought I could change the world. While a college student in San Francisco, I danced to the Grateful Dead in Golden Gate Park and the Doors at the Fillmore West. When my friends left for Vietnam and did not return, I marched to stop the war. Martin Luther King Jr was my hero.

Then the world turned upside down - three assassinations: President John F. Kennedy, Senator Robert F. Kennedy, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. The streets that had been filled with flower children became angry with lost dreams.

It’s been 50 years since the tumultuous Sixties, and we are again facing a pivotal cultural shift.

The sexual abuse of children is now center-stage through the trial of Michigan State physician Larry Nassar. Sexual harassment is in the spotlight because of the likes of Harvey Weinstein and Bill Cosby. The government of the United States as a federal republic is under scrutiny because of various election machinations. The streets are again angry with lost dreams.

When I was in my twenties, I reached a point at which I stopped hoping. I had seen too much, felt even more. For years, I ignored Walter Cronkite and David Brinkley; I didn’t trust what they had to say. As a student of psychology and an eventual counselor, I worked at interior transformation, doing a lot of soul searching. There were mountains to climb, rivers to cross and oceans to maneuver. I was not well-equipped to do any of these, but I learned.

Unlike the Sixties, I’m surprisingly hopeful about the current cultural shift. As icons of Hollywood, academia and politics fall, truth is searing our complacency. It is returning people to their hearts, to the only place of real strength.

It takes great love to reach across divides and offer a hand, it takes vulnerability to risk trust, and it takes hard earned self-respect to stand tall for truth. All of this is present now in its magnificence, even while the opposite rears its ugly head.
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2018 will likely be turbulent as there is too much at stake. But if we can show up in our innocence, in our truth and with our hearts open, I believe the year will be like none other, for we will be standing together building bridges of authenticity.  

Each week author Ronovan Hester invites interested readers to participate in a Haiku Prompt Challenge. This week he provided the words hope and magic, and I decided to focus on a mundane topic - sleep. I'm a novice at this poetic form, but I'm intrigued enough to attempt this simple verse. ​If you have interest, please click on the link above, where you'll find detailed instructions. 

​I've entitled my poem, ​THE GIFT.

by Gwendolyn M Plano

This past year was momentous. In fact, for many of us, life was turned upside down because of hurricanes or tornadoes, wildfires or severe drought. Some of us lost our homes, others of us faced helplessness because of illnesses and disabilities. It was quite the year and through it all, the basics of life (food, shelter, and family) emerged in its paramount importance.

My husband and I have been married for almost twelve years. Between us, we have seven children. My four live on the East Coast; Larry’s three live on the West Coast, and Larry and I live in the Midwest.

Because of everything we had been through last year and everything our children had been through, we wanted to be with our loved ones, under the same roof for Christmas. So, as a gift to my tribe and to me, I rented a house at the ocean’s edge, near San Diego. My four kids, their spouses and four grandchildren moved into the home for the week. Larry’s kids were a brief drive from there.

My twelve arrived beleaguered by long flights but were greeted by sunshine and ocean breezes. They quickly found laughter and each other. Similarly, Larry’s family came together to  celebrate togetherness.

What did we discover through this? As we made memories, we re-found laughter and gratefulness. Bishop Desmond Tuto said, “You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.” Can there be any greater gift than this?

Today I share a couple of photos of my kids with their children and me. And I wish all of us a New Year filled with delight. May 2018 awaken our dreams, restore our hope, and provide each of us with the well-being to enjoy each moment. Blessings to all. 

by Gwendolyn M Plano