Hey! Didja Fergit Yer Upbringin’?

I visited my mom today.
She’s 90 years old…
…having trouble walking…
…hearing might be even more problematical.
But the equipment upstairs is still pretty good.
So…
…I just listened.

Mom’s neighborhood in Louisville has deteriorated in the years she’s lived there. As the passing of older neighbors has occurred, suspected drug transactions, police cars, exotically costumed ladies, Byzantine and multitudinous tattoos, have all appeared recently.

I’m not happy about it.

If you scramble the words in that last sentence, it spells; “I’m fairly terrified.”

But Mom is fierce and wants to live by herself in her house. After a life of hard work and devotion to her family, she sees that as her reward. Who am I and my sisters to say otherwise? All we can do is fret and hover.

Mom has a new neighbor. I met him last month.

Hassan and his family are from Somalia. They’re Muslim. Except for Hassan, their English is non-existent. Hassan is proud of and misses Somalia, but is very happy to be in America. He and I chatted as his little boy played with a football in the front yard. When I introduced myself, his first words were; “It’s hard here. People don’t go to each other’s houses and share food. They stay alone.”

I explained my concerns about Mom and the neighborhood and introduced him to Mom. I wasn’t sure how my Southern Baptist mom would react to her Muslim neighbor. The introduction was bewildering and brief due to poor hearing, a foreign accent, and a shrill interruption from Hassan’s hijab-wearing wife from the porch next door. Still, it was a start.

I followed up with an email to Hassan.

Since that initial contact, Hassan has called on my mom twice. Once to offer to pick up food for her since he was on his way to the grocery (American grocery stores – my friend Eric Johnson thinks they are a miracle unto themselves – I think he’s spot on), and once to bring a book for my mom to give to me. It was a modern translation of the QURAN.

Today, Mom gave me the book, commenting that she had read a bit of it and noticed a lot of names and stories she recognized.

May I repeat that?

Today, Mom gave me the book, commenting that she had read a bit of it and noticed a lot of names and stories she recognized.

She’s feelin’ pretty good about her neighbor.

This is the same woman with whom I could never discuss Mr. Trump’s outrages.

Grabbing ladies’ private parts, mocking the afflicted, pornography, colluding with Russia against America…the mere whisper of those topics when we were growing up would banish you, not from her family – never that, but from her approval and acceptance of you as a person worth knowing. Good lord…there’s an abyss to avoid.

Hassan and my Mom…
…an America Mr. Trump never knew…
…and his supporters and followers have forgotten.

We have to fix this.

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