They branded him.

http://www.navajotimes.com/news/index.php

It seems to me that this sort of behavior is reoccurring at a truly alarming rate. Even this poor victim expresses such feelings, on a less violent basis, when he observes that he is neither a goat nor a Jew.  I know that he did not mean that it was ok to brand Jews.  Given his mental status, he, no doubt, was repeating something that he had heard from someone else. Still, this comment demonstrates to me the pervasiveness of this sort of attitude. 

I am not naive enough to think that people had stopped having these sorts of feellings, but for a while, it seems to me, with the exception of the truly off the hook types, most people knew enough not to express such feelings, either verbally or through hate filled actions.   More and more, however, it seems to me that people feel that this is the 'New OK'.  I have heard people say that everyone has these feelings towards other ethnic groups.  'Everyone is prejudiced.  You are prejudiced, and if you don't admit to such feelings and thoughts then you are lying both to yourself and to others.'  Nonsense!

Lately, also, as a part of studying for my teacher certification examinations, I have been re-reading history and all sorts of these ethnically centered epics of madness have found their way into my reading:  Krystalnacht, the treatment of the Navajo people by the Indian Fighter, Kit Carson, the regime of PolPot, the Rawandan massacre, on and on and on.

 I am as proud of my 'roots' as anyone on the planet.  My cousin, Sharol, has done some truly great research into our background, and through reading it, I get a feeling  of who we are , as a family.My Aunt Skeet did, before her death, quite a lot of research on my Dad's side of the family, but she quit  when she got too close to the possibility that we might be directly related to John Wilkes Booth (I doubt we are even remotely related to him, but still it was a worry for her).

Of course, in our recent history, our family brings new meaning to the term, multicultural.  As a unit, we are neither Christian, Jew,  Muslim nor Buddhist.   We are not White, Black, Asian, Hispanic  or Native American. I had a friend, once, when I explained to her the nature or our multicultural family, observed, 'My goodness, the only food you can serve at family reunions that everyone will eat is squash.' I had to tell her that, not even squash was an option for me  as I didn't like it very much.  I told her that my mother, at family dinners, always managed to make sure that the vegeterians, non pork eaters and unrehabilitated carnivores had plenty to eat, and that no one walked away hungry.  She never set a table that did not include pears and cottage cheese. She even made a separate bowl of potato salad for my uncle, because he didn't like onions.  (After his death, however, no one else got that sort of service.  Uncle Dink had been special;  anyone else, according to Mother, could just pick the onions out)

 Perhaps. that background is why it is so easy for me to make this next observation:  At what point do we cross a line between pride in our own background and condecension,  hostility  and hatred towards others?  It seems to me, when people join clubs to play for the death of our duly elected President we have crossed a line and are headed into a state of complete depravity and yes, evil.

Now, the question becomes, what do I, a borderline senior citizen, do to make a difference on this issue? I do not want to  leave this world without making an attempt to leave  it  a better place  for my beloved grandchildren.   I could , and given my own temper would love to, start running around slapping people, but that seems kind of counter productive.  Reminds me a little of the story about the  proverbial mother in the supermarket, who spanks her child and yells, 'I have told you (swat), and told you (swat) and told you (swat), not to hit your brother!' 

I can't do anything , truly, except monitor my own behavior and be a spokesperson for my beliefs. And, one more thing, since I still believe that love trumps hate, I can pray and meditate and send out goodness and love.  Which is what I think that I will do.  Every night for the next month, at seven o'clock p.m. Mountain Standard Time, I am going to stop what I am doing , breathe deepy and recite the Prayer of St Francis of Assissi (which I remember now, thanks to my cousin, Jaynie, and sister, Terri.   I invite you to join me.