I Want America to Be Good For You

As folks who follow me know, I've been in and out of the hospital, ER, medical clinics, and other ancillary offices related to medicine.  Back in the early days, I decided that I was going to engage those who treated me, those who were likely not born in the US. They have been from India, Ethiopia, Nigeria, and all manner of other places.  They have treated me well.

Here is a conversation that reflects a myriad of other conversations.  This one is with Amira, the phebotomist at the end of her shift last week.

Amira:  Have a seat over there, Hon.
Waymon: Do I get to choose which vein you use?
Amira: Sure (tapping my left arm and the big vein there).
Waymon: I like to live in the no pain zone with needles, can you help me out? (Teasing)
Amira: I think so but you get to decide (smiling back)

The needle goes in and the blood flows.

Waymon: I felt no stick on that one.  Nice job.
Amira: You are welcome.
Waymon: Where are you from?
Amira: Ethiopia (she speaks from beneath her lovely wrap around her head and down to her waist).
Waymon: How long have you lived in the states?
Amira: 18 years.
Waymon: Has America been good to you? I want America to be good to you.
Amira: Sometimes.
Waymon: I want America to be good to you.
Amira: Thank you.  It is people like you who make it easy for me.

She gives me a huge, lengthy embrace. I am moved to tears.  I sense that there are many stories that she could tell. A few moments later, as she was taking the vials of blood to the lab, I was able to introduce Charla to her.

This is not a good time for immigrants in our country.  The rhetoric from the WH is startlingly brutal, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, and mean-spirited to people of color, to those who have come to our country.

I am thankful for Amira. I wish her well.  I hope America will be good to her.  I hope we will all be good representatives of our country to those who dress differently, speak with different accents, and the like.

America the Wounded

Oh, beautiful for spacious skies

Except for the ones filled with our childrens’ cries.

This land is your land, this land is my land

One of the 2^nd amendment, lots of guns, and parents' mournful sighs. 

My country ‘tis of thee

With our AK-47s and many rounds 

Let music swell the breeze

Let mothers grieve their dead children, hear those anguished sounds. 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord

And the Supreme Court rules that the right to bear arms is an individual right

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea

And somewhere along the line the NRA has become our nation's blight. 

God Bless America, land that I love

Make weapons of mass destruction easy to obtain

Hurrah for the flag of the free

And fill our airwaves with vitriol and white nationalism, our saddest refrain.

I pledge thee my allegiance, America, the bold

More guns, more violence, more mass shootings, so many lives wasted

Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton

Where the seeds of racism were planted, watered, and harvested.

I’m proud to be an American

Where I can own as many guns and ammunition as I desire

God bless America, My home sweet home

And when the dead are counted, never putting white supremacy on the funeral pyre. 

Give me your tired, your poor

Especially if you are white and educated and wealthy

My native country, thee, land of the noble free

And with the NRA owning our congress as far as I can see. 

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light

News of more mass killings in El Paso Dayton Uvalde Nashville make for fitful sleep

O beautiful for patriot dream

The caskets all in a row, we offer our thoughts and prayers, words pretty cheap.