1946 was quite the year. Bill Clinton, Liza Minnelli, Tommy Lee Jones, Cher, Danny Glover, Diane Keaton, George W. Bush, Candice Bergen, Reggie Jackson, Connie Chung, Donald Trump and many unknowns such as me were born. We may not have had much in common, but we experienced the same social mores. Men had their roles, women had theirs.

Those roles became real to me when I went away to college in San Francisco. A friend asked if I’d join her and go on a blind date with an acquaintance, explaining that it would be a foursome. I agreed because it sounded like fun. That night I got into the back seat with a young man I had never met. All was fine until my friend’s boyfriend parked his car at Coit Tower and pulled a curtain across the middle of the car, separating the front and back seats. My date turned to me and suddenly became quite aggressive. His hands were all over my body as he tried to hold me down and remove my clothing. I finally pushed him away and climbed out of the car. I don’t know who he was or how I got back to the dormitory. I only know that I was scared. The year, 1965.
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I suspect most women in my age group have similar stories they could share. Young men and women were not taught how to interact with one another, and they often learned about relationships and sex through James Bond and backroom gossip. This does not excuse inappropriate behavior, but it is the reason why seemingly good people behaved poorly.

Fast forward three decades, Bill Clinton was president when I was the Dean of Students at a prestigious university in the East. When he declared that “I did not have sexual relations with that woman,” shock waves traveled across the campus. His words and actions blatantly violated the university’s Code of Conduct, a code which I was charged to enforce. Several times, I had to explain to students why they were held to a higher standard.

Now two decades later, we are confronted with the Kavanaugh vs. Ford case. It is not easy to handle a she said, he said situation, but it is nearly impossible to fairly adjudicate a case that is as old as this one. Details are elusive, memories are fragmented, and slander is a risk.

And yet, this dispute has become a platform for many and an outlet for others. It has resurrected hurts across the population and in so doing, it offers us a rare opportunity for healing.

I sincerely believe we are together creating common ground. This is not only extraordinary, it is also revolutionary. And, it is the reason we must proceed with care.
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I share a meditation as a closing.

I remember those anxious hours, waiting for word from my son, his office just a short walk to the Trade Center. Had he stopped there for coffee? Was he okay? My fear soon grew into panic.

When we think of 9/11, aren’t we all aghast by the senseless madness of evil? And don’t we all mourn the innocent victims, while we salute the heroes who ran into danger?

Shortly after the attack, I visited my son in New York City. He had not yet gone to the site, explaining only that he could not. So, I walked alone through the Lower East Side, silently praying.

The stench of the remains of life confronted me, while the air hung heavily with debris. As I walked I came across a mountain of flowers, in front of a FDNY Ladder Company. Most of its crew had lost their lives, risking everything in the hope that they could save even one. In that moment, I understood why my son could not walk these streets, for I, a stranger, could barely.

Going further, I went into the Grand Central Station. The walls of its long corridor were covered with hundreds upon hundreds of photographs of the missing, as well as letters from loved ones asking for help. Old faces, young faces, white faces, black and brown faces – the faces of innocent victims unrecovered. 

9/11 is a day of remembrance, and who is not hushed by its solemnness? But it is not simply about remembering the victims; it is about remembering who we are.

Behind the man-made atrocities of life, from the war-torn streets of Aleppo to the terror in an Orlando nightclub and the horror of 9/11, there are those who craft a world of hate and clothe it in rhetoric. Why do we humans listen or follow?

If we could remember who we are, I think miracles would abound.

I leave you with this beautiful message of hope:

Dear readers, I invite you to visit my new website and follow. www.gwenmplano I'd love to meet you via its pages. 

Today I extend my heartfelt congratulations to author Karen Ingalls, an award winning writer of non-fiction and fiction, and the newly selected Spotlight Author for the Rave Reviews Book Club.

Each of Karen’s books earned my 5-Stars on Amazon. If you do not know Karen, please take a moment to peruse her website and read the reviews of her books.  You’ll learn of her commitment to help others and her love of good writing. 

My full post is located on my new website, which I invite you to visit and follow. It is called Reflections. 

                                                ~~~
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