It's Awfully Quiet Out There

It's 11:00 a.m.

I have not received even ONE personal email today. No comments. No Facebook notifications. Not even the usual onslaught of Twitter tweets that come in overnight. (I Twittered about it myself to see if the thing was working, and it showed up on Facebook, so I guess it is.)

Where IS everybody?

Is it the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday? I know a lot of school districts give their students the entire week off. Not ours, unfortunately. We don't get to drive to Sacto for Thanksgiving until Thanksgiving, and now we have both of my sister's college-age kids in tow with us. It's nice, because it gives Megan that sibling experience, fighting in the backseat with them.

There haven't even been that many posts on my friends' sites today. What I have seen has been disquieting; a lot of health issues. One of my oldest online friends, Leila, recently discovered a recurrence of the breast cancer she had conquered a few years ago. Leila is an Arab-American, and I have always enjoyed reading her blog because she has always been willing to engage in dialogue with peace-seeking people of all religious backgrounds, and could be counted on to write eloquently of what is hopeful in the Middle East.

But last month, she wrote a post that was anything but hopeful:

I have long felt a philosophical problem with this blog. For four years I've been trying to post "signs of hope." In the meantime I have felt great despair about the state of the world. Now I discover that some think there's a connection between repressed anger and illness.

It's time for me to be honest and quit keeping silent in the face of the world's miseries. I am very angry. I am angry at what my government has done in my name; I am angry at the State of Israel; I am angry at right-wing Lebanese who call themselves Christians and yet flout the teachings of Jesus; I am angry at anybody who uses violence: suicide bombers, fighter jet bombers, cluster bombs, suitcase bombs. I am angry at what Republicans and Democrats have done to democracy in this country. I am angry at what we are all doing to the natural world for our own selfish greediness. I am angry that I got cancer and I am angry that many women in my country can't get treated properly for their illnesses because our health care delivery system is so screwed up. I am angry at what happened in Nahr-al-Bared this summer, and I am angry at all the militaristic jingoistic people in America and Lebanon who think that their soldiers do anything to "protect" them.

Since that time, Leila's writing is back to reflecting her inherent optimism. She continues to focus on news that is positive.

A new friend, Jo, is also dealing with the recurrence of an old cancer. Jo is fiercely funny; it is no surprise that she is tackling this bad news with humor. She posted the results of her last scan and then went on to describe the tattoos she is planning on getting when she kicks this thing again.

One of them will depict a phoenix, which is an apt symbol for both of these admirable women.

Just because the annual October pink ribbon breast cancer awareness campaign is over doesn't mean we get to stop thinking about it. This year, more than ever, I am thankful for my health. And I'm giving an extra donation in honor of my sisters who can't say that this November.

Comments

[Jo]

Thank you for including me in your post hun. You're so sweet! I heard once (can't remember if it was read or actually heard) the saying "If I stop laughing I'll start crying and I do so hate to have puffy eyes". :)

[Strizz]

I hate it when there are no shout outs as well.

[Leila]

I got a note from the fundraiser organizers saying you donated money in my name. Bless you ! I am so very honored and grateful. Thank you for your kindness... may we meet in real life one day!

[Liz]

I'm here, Donna - though, it's quiet over at my place as well - Happy Thanksgiving and good luck, Leila.

[Daisy]

A phoenix -- how appropriate.