Random Thoughts on Random Acts of Violence

Random thoughts on random acts of violence…

I burst into tears this morning and then I couldn’t breathe.

I was thinking about the shootings in Vegas, in Orlando, in New Town and every day in Chicago.  And sadly, the FB posts from mothers who fear for their children’s quality of life in a violent America. The moms who want to wrap their children up in body armor and not allow them to go to a concert or even outside for fear of being gunned down by a crazed individual with an assault rifle.

Yes, I cried and couldn’t breathe. I was having a panic attack and a revisit of what I thought were healed emotions. See, I survived gun violence. It was at my home, in Chatham, with my daughters.  I was affected, they were mostly.

It was random, a drive by shooting.  Not intended for me or my family. The shooter shot into the wrong apartment. The bullet smashed through my kitchen window one  early October evening. There was take-out pizza on the counter below the window. My girls were watching television.

The bullet went past one daughter’s ear, ending up in the wall above my other daughter’s head.

It was sudden, it was loud, there were screams and then it was quiet. 

What just happened? Who would do this and why. I picked glass out of my daughter’s hair and threw away the pizza and eventually over the days, months and years went about the task of healing two beautiful humans, who in a moment saw the possibility of their mortality at a far too young age.

I was both numb and hyper-vigilant for days…for months…for years. Fearful in crowds. In restaurants, I would sit with my back to the wall. I would bolt from a cocktail party with no warning. I could not sleep at night sitting outside on my porch, smoking packs of cigarettes until the wee hours of the morning. I was the sentinel guarding my home.  There was always the underlying feeling of fear.

It took many years to heal, we are different but we did.

And thus, I was surprised by my reaction this morning. This time though, I cried and couldn’t breathe for another reason. For our collective society.

  

What I have to say right now in this forum, in my feed (and feel free to unfriend/ unfollow me if you must) is to those mothers fearful for their babies, fearful for their children and their quality of life.

I have fired a gun, rifle and pistol or two, all in controlled situations. I do not own a gun, I have never, nor will I ever. I will eat hunted game and appreciate the sports of target and skeet shooting.  But when a television commentary says what happened in Vegas, Orlando, New Town is the cost of freedom and the right to bear arms and defend the second amendment, I call bull shit. The second amendment today is about fear and fostering the gun industry and their profits.

Unfounded fear, systematically fed to us for centuries. Generations of bias, prejudice and profit-making. Making some of us cache arms and weaponry for the impending assault on our nation by those who don’t act like us, don’t look like us, don’t believe like us. It makes most of us oppressed by fear. Fearful of a gun in the wrong hands taking us out while we eat pizza and watch television.

Fear is oppressive, polarizing and takes away from you the very air you breathe and the thoughts you think. So, when you think of your children becoming victimized by random acts of violence- it can happen anywhere, anytime. If you allow it to consume you, it will polarize you and they, the oppressors, win.

Sp please teach peace, kindness and random acts of kindness. Fight hard to make changes.  Teach that we can be brave and defend ourselves with words and positive change. That we are one humanity and should love and protect each other, most of all respect those who look act and believe differently. Do not live in fear of the uncertainties. Live to the fullest.

Mothers. You have the power. Rise up against the gun lobbyists and a Congress who accepts money from them. Ask congress to pass gun control laws. Say no to fear.

Be, like me, no longer fearful.

A BLESSING FOR THE SEASON OF THE FISH

On May 23, 2015, I spoke at the Women of Fishing Families' Annual Blessing of the Fleet at the Chatham Fishing Pier, Chatham, MA. Here is an edited version of the words I spoke. 

After a cold winter it is great to stand here at the Chatham Fish Pier, right now, in this moment, with the sun shining, the wind blowing out of the northwest and the tide low.  

It’s late May and we are blessed by the arrival of our Cape Cod version of spring. The sun rises higher and stays longer in the sky.  Baitfish have moved in turning the water a turquoise green and the ospreys have arrived to nest and fish. The peeper’s sound, the herring are in the runs.  Dandelions grace our lawns and squid has showed up in Nantucket Sound. The daffodils bloom, the cherry blossoms waft in the breeze and the quahogs and clams rise closer to surface of the shoreline flats.

The world awakens to the season. Shops open on Main Street and the town and the harbors explode with activity.

As fishing families we live in harmony of the seasons, harvest in harmony with what the provider, the sea allows.  Stand in those thoughts for a moment, regard-the peepers, the daffodils, the ospreys, the fish, the fisherman and the cyclic nature of the seasons, the weather, the wind, the tide-the harmony of nature and the harmony of the harvest.

We hear and you hear,  there is no fish left in the ocean. True, there may be a limit of resources and fishing may not be the way it was in it’s hey day when the saying  ‘Anyone got some Chathams?’ meant something at New York's Fulton Fish Market. Or, when a line of tractor-trailer trucks idled on Stage Harbor Road waiting for mackerel and scup to be packed and loaded. Or, when there were more shucking shanties than guest cottage in the backyards of our neighborhoods.

And, most importantly, the fishmongers and restaurateurs on Main Street could proudly and truthfully say, ’Yes it's fresh, it's local and just landed down at the harbor.'

What is magical is,  just like the Chatham Fishermen’s Monument depicts, and what the seasons show, the sea is a provider, and a diverse provider at that.  We in Chatham are blessed with the opportunity to have a diverse seasonal resource of fish and shellfish.

As I walked around the harbor last week and among the crowd today I heard these comments:

‘It blew hard southwest on the changing tide the other day, Gladys and Chape must have had a wet ride back from digging steamers on Monomoy.’

‘ The water temp must have warmed up Nick, Jamie and Bill are catchin’ up the conch in the Sound. Is Jamie going dog fishing when the season opens?’

‘Saw schoolies as far as the eye could see off Monomoy the other day. What’s the word from Drew on bass season?’

‘Have the monkfish and skates moved north enough that Dave, Jim and Mark aren’t steaming 12 hours to set gear?’

‘I saw Kurt at the trap docks jigging up squid with his son William last week,  are his lobster pots in yet? ‘

‘Did Bobby get his boat back in the water?’ 

‘Are Coralie and Wendy going quahogging this summer?’

‘So is Russo going to land any cod in Chatham this year.?’

‘I wonder how Doug and Paul are doing sea scalloping off Maryland.’

‘The mackerel came and went from Nantucket Sound fast.

‘Did Shannon Ernie and Russell get squid today? Any sign of scup?’

We live and work synchronized by the provider we call the sea. I cannot eat clams, quahogs, mackerel, squid, scup, conch, monk, skates, lobster or cod without regarding what season it is, when it will show up in our waters and what fishing family provided it. 

We are tied to seasonality of the sea and are blessed by its diversity and the opportunity it continues to provide. And in that blessing as we stand in this moment at the Pier, regarding the sun shining, the wind blowing, the tide-changing, think about the seafood you eat.  Be thankful for the diverse seasonality of our fisheries and honor it. Especially with all the rhetoric and the challenges faced by fishing families; their catch limitations that are managed and monitored by those of whom holding the reins of power to fast track the corporatization of the world fisheries.

Without a doubt, even years from now, I will look for a dandelion even if it’s on a well manicured, managed lawn, to tell me squid will be here soon. And I will feel blessed by the fishing family that provides it. ~SD 

LOCAL CATCH LANDED AT STAGE HARBOR: May is squid season for our weir fishing family

A stage at Stage

6 am,

Dec 6, 2014 , Stage Harbor, Chatham.

Sitting in a familiar place, not feeling a part of it for the first time in my life. A place I have lived and work, a place where my ancestors lived and worked. The shoreline and docks of Stage Harbor. 

A production company has created another world here for a movie. A Disney film -based on a actual event that occurred in Chatham decades ago- the biggest Untied States Coast Guard small boat rescue ever. The movie, The Finest Hours. 

It’s a drizzly morning with mild temperatures and I am surrounded by a world of friendly and polite strangers- set designers, electricians, carpenters, handlers and managers. Gypsy-esque folks from all travels of life.  I wonder, after spending a week with them, do they ever have a real moment in their life or do they travel from project to project building a reality that is based upon plans designed by a preconceived notion of what should be, living in a perpetual world of planning? Their perspective is the reality and this is the reality I am surrounded by. 

The crews arrived last week in mass. Trucks, cranes, wind machines, boats, gear, paints and props and the artisans and pre-production workers who proceeded to stripped down the dock, remove fishing gear and eclectic possessions to recreate a look of a 1950s  Chatham Fish Pier, fitted with coal bins, wooden lobster pots, ropes and gear. Ironically as this area is one the last in town not to be rehabbed to look like someone else's perspective of  Chatham by the sea.  now, after a week of decorating the dock looks like it always has, except more cohesive, precise and muted in color. The area will be the back drop for film scenes, movie stars, and about a 100 local extras. 

This is day one of filming in the Stage Harbor-area. I hear today's plan is to film out at the entrance of the harbor. The collective properties at the junction of Stage Harbor and Champlain Rd are the jumping off point for the days filming out near Hardings Beach Light and the cut.  

It is not yet sunrise. A floodlight washes over the shoreline next door. It’s quiet, except for the whispered directions of a handful of overseers, beeping trucks and the hum of a pontoon boat at the  adjacent town landing.  

A lone Chatham police office stands watch in the parking lot. It starts to rain.