climate of anger | Pujakins

The town common in Grafton was alight with candles. I looked around and saw people of all ages gathered for a vigil to honor the victims of the Orlando massacre. It was a collection of many faiths and lifestyles. With the my friends and neighbors I listened to prayers and invocations from a variety of individuals and religious leaders. With them too I lifted my voice in songs that spoke of the need for change as well as the desire for peace. Yet in all my years here on earth little has changed.

During World War II my father was an Air raid warden and had to go around checking to see that the blackout curtains on the neighbors’ windows kept the light from coming through so no targets were visible. I remember he wore a funny looking hat–a sort of helmet to identify him as an official. The windowpanes of the big windows in my school were crosshatched with some brownish tape. We were told that this was to prevent them from shattering in the event of a bomb explosion.

We were also given bomb drills, which were different from fire drills, when we all filed outside and stood in lines with our classmates. Bomb drills took place inside. I seem to remember going down to the basement, but I was small and it was many years ago. Now children are being given drills in the case of an armed person coming into their school and shooting people, and some people want teachers to carry guns.

The last time Stephen and I were at such a vigil was on 9/11, after the twin towers in New York city were destroyed. Since then the climate of violence in this country seems to have accelerated. It grieves me that the children of today have to live in such a conflicted world. I regret that they must be taught what to do in schools or other places if some crazy person arrives with a gun and begins random shooting.

The climate of violence when I was growing up was in some ways the same. The difference was that the war was somewhere else. It had not come home to our cities and towns in the form of gun wielding terrorists It seems so tragic. What can we do? One thing seems clear. We need to see things differently in order to do better. We must start now by setting an example. Perhaps if we begin in small and simple ways we can make big changes happen.

We can begin by lighting candles of love and kindness wherever we are. Let us keep a vigil each hour of each day by shining our light into the darkness of ignorance and fear. Random acts of kindness are good, daily, simple acts of kindness are even better: holding the door for someone, smiling to a weary stranger, donating used items or goods to charity, helping a friend or neighbor. When the intention is made opportunities will manifest, and every candle we light helps dispel darkness and brightens the way for someone to see better.

Tasha Halpert

There seems to be a great deal of anger circulating these days, whether in the form of “road rage,” destructive actions involving armed individuals, bullying that makes the news, and more. The majority of video games and even the comics and illustrated books for young people are very violent in nature. Furthermore, this country has been at war with some nation, group or another for a very long time. Anger is all around us, yet it is also a band aid over grief.

I am reminded of the fifties, a time for bleak news, back yard bomb shelters, and dark tales on TV and in the movies. The climate then was one of fear and to some extent, existential responses to dire circumstances. “Die young and make a good looking corpse,” was a popular saying. Although people were more polite on the surface, anger and fighting were also a common reaction. Bullying was almost acceptable–considered normal, many thought it would toughen someone up for the “real world.”

When I was in grade school I was often the object of bullying. One of the reasons may have been because I was slow to anger, yet when I did finally respond, I would explode into a fit of rage. Toward this end my classmates would taunt me, snatch my hat or my eyeglasses and do whatever they could to get me to that breaking point. Most likely they enjoyed the show. When my parents complained they were always told I had started it.

My father and mother were both rather fiery and temperamental, which might be why I disliked getting angry. I was uncomfortable with their arguments, which frightened me. Although they loved each other dearly, they disagreed about a lot of things. Being as young as I was I didn’t really understand much about this, I only knew I felt uneasy and afraid when their voices rose. This in turn made me want to avoid that kind of behavior.

Often it has been my job to try to get people who disagree to come to some kind of understanding. Yet each person has a point of view based on his or her experience and perhaps his or her beliefs. It is almost impossible to argue with someone’s beliefs. By their nature these are not based on logic but have an emotional base. What we feel generates and supports our beliefs. Perhaps the best that can be done may be to agree to disagree.

However, anger is a conditioned response that can be controlled and then changed to a different one. With practice, a compassionate response can be substituted. To me anger seems a waste of energy. When I encounter senseless violence or cruelty, I have taught myself to feel my sadness, and then to say a prayer for the afflicted. For my part, to counter the disturbing news items I read in the papers or see on TV I make an effort to be kind when and where I am given the opportunity. It might be only a drop in the ocean, however, it’s something I can do.

Photo and Text by Tasha Halpert